“That sounds nice.”
She squeezed his arm, and he grabbed her wrist to hold her hand up in the air. Her new engagement ring caught the morning sunlight streaming in through the window.
“What the fuck is this?”
Roux beamed. “Steve just asked me to marry him.”
Zach crinkled up half his face as if he’d tasted something extremely bitter. “And you said yes?”
She laughed and nodded. “Of course I said yes.”
“I told you that you had bad timing,” Steve said. “We haven’t even consummated the engagement yet.”
He slipped an arm around Roux’s back, resting his hand on her hip.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I should have stayed away—”
“No,” Roux said. She took Zach firmly by one arm and shoved him into a chair at the dining table. “You look like you haven’t eaten since I last saw you. There’s some fruit there to get you started,” she said. “I’ll order you a hot breakfast.”
Steve wasn’t sure why her fussing over his friend made him love her even more. While she was on the phone ordering enough food to make up for two weeks of starvation, Steve sank into the chair across from Zach.
“Are you okay? Why did he dump you?” Steve was careful not to use Enrique’s name.
Zach was helping himself to the half-eaten slice of ham on Steve’s plate. “Why do you automatically think he dumped me?”
“Because you’re obsessed with him.”
“While I was on my way to meet him in the prearranged secret location, I realized I want what you have with Roux, and I’m never going to get that with Enrique. So I stood him up, and then I was ultra-lame and broke up with him via text message.”
Which was probably a good thing, because if Zach had seen Enrique in person, he likely would have faltered.
“What about you,” Zach said, “are you okay? That date-rape stuff with Tam—”
Steve lifted a hand. “Don’t say its name.”
“Sorry I wasn’t here for you when you needed me.” He glanced over at Roux, who was grinning ear to ear and texting a flurry of messages—most likely to her sisters about her new ring. “I left you in good hands, though. Congratulations, by the way. So will you rent your house to me now?”
Steve chuckled. “If she doesn’t want to live there, but don’t make her feel sorry for you so she’ll let you have it. I love that place and hope she does too.”
“Hey, Roux?” Zach called to her. “You don’t want to live in California, do you?”
“Yeah, I do. Especially in the winter,” she said.
“Steve’s house is really small,” Zach added.
“I like cozy. Keeps us close.”
“Knock it off,” Steve warned Zach. He would love to build their lives together in his little shack by the sea.
“I also love wide-open spaces,” she said, and Steve cringed, thinking she’d want a big ol’ mansion in Malibu like Bianca had. “I hope we can stay on the family farm in the fall at harvest time. We’ll need a relaxing, quiet place to stay after all the summer tours.”
He loved that she wanted to spend months on the farm and winters in California, but what about seeing her family?
Oh.
“And there’s no place like New York in the spring,” Steve said, catching on to where she was going with this. They could make their lives together in all the places that were important to them, and once they decided to start a family, they could settle somewhere more permanent. He didn’t care where, as long as they were together.
“I couldn’t agree more,” she said, smiling at him with utter devotion.
A loud knock sounded, and Roux turned toward the door. “Fastest room service ever,” she said, hurrying to answer.
“You will not post another picture on the Internet for the rest of the tour,” Sam said. He jabbed a finger into Roux’s chest, and Steve was on his feet in an instant.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve said, rushing forward and shifting Roux behind him. He blocked Sam’s entry into the room by taking up as much space in the doorframe as possible “You touch her again, and I’ll break your fingers.”
Sam didn’t touch her again, but he did continue to yell.
“If I see one more cutesy picture of you with this character”—he pointed at Steve—“posted anywhere, I’m sending Baroquen back to New York and canceling your appearances.”
“You can’t do that!” Roux squeezed into the doorframe next to Steve, but he threw out an arm to stop her from entering the hall. There were sharks in those waters.
“I can do whatever I want.” Sam crossed his arms and his chin jutted forward. “I own your band. Without me, you’re nothing.”
“You’re so wrong,” Steve said, surprised he wasn’t angrier. The man he loathed above all others was threatening the woman he loved, and some strange sense of calm had washed over him. “Without us, you’re nothing.”
“What? I made you.” He jabbed a pointed finger in Steve’s direction but wisely did not touch him. “And her. And even him.” He nodded toward Roux and Zach.
“No, you promoted me, and her, and not so much him, but you didn’t make anything. We’re the ones who make the music. You just help us find people who like what we make. And I can’t speak for Baroquen or Twisted Element, but I can speak for Exodus End. We don’t need you anymore. You’re fired.”
Oh yeah, the guys were going to kill him later for that one, but he didn’t give a fuck at that moment, and the astonished look on Sam Baily’s face was worth any browbeating Max would throw Steve’s way later.
“You can’t fire me.”
“I just did.”
“Well, I’ll . . . I’ll cancel all the promotional events I’ve arranged.” Sam’s face had turned a delightful shade of red.
“Which would be welcome,” Steve said. “You have us running ragged all the time. Besides . . .” Steve shrugged. “If we want to reschedule any of those events, I’m sure a simple phone call to the organizer will fix everything to our satisfaction.”
Sam puffed out his chest. “A, I control the money. B, I control the band. Therefore, C, I control you.”
Steve laughed. “We’re working on A. Remember that audit Max ordered? Well, don’t imagine that we’ve been silent about it because we were happy with what our very thorough accountant found.”
Sam’s face went from red to white.
“As for B, you might think you control the band, but if it weren’t for Max’s insistence that you were worth the headache, you’d have been out on your ass years ago. He’ll be pissed that he didn’t get to tell you himself, but he no longer thinks you’re worth the headache. He wants you gone as much as I do. The only thing keeping you here is that it’s taking Dare’s lawyers a bit longer than planned to file all the lawsuits and criminal charges against you.”
Sam took a step backward. “What?”
“And with your tabloid publishing pictures of my sexual assault, well . . .” Steve shrugged. “I guess we have a civil case as well, don’t we? It was very traumatizing for me—the victim—to see those pictures in print.”
Sam’s mouth opened and shut several times, but for once in his hot-winded existence, he couldn’t seem to find a single word to utter.
“As for C,” Steve said, “you never controlled me. Max kept me under control as best he could, but if I didn’t love and respect the hell out of him and our music, I’d have hit the road years ago. This band isn’t about you. Baroquen isn’t about you either. So go fuck yourself, Sam. We’ll survive without you.”
“God, why won’t you quit?” Sam threw both hands in the air. “I’ve tried everything I can to make you leave, and you just keep coming back for more.”
So Steve hadn’t been imagining things—Sam did have it out for him. “Why would I leave? I belong with the band. You’re the one who’s leaving.”
“You’ve just ruined your girlfriend’s career,” Sam said. “I’ll make sure she and her sisters never get a leg
up in this business—”
“Are you threatening us?” Iona said from behind him.
Sam spun around. “Iona!” he said, his sharkiest smile splitting his face. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to congratulate my little sister on her engagement.”
“We all did,” Raven said from the group of congregated women.
Actually, the crowd spreading down the hall in either direction was more mixed than Steve had first noticed.
When had his bandmates arrived? How much had they overheard? How pissed were they that Steve had taken it upon himself to confront Sam openly and without a lawyer present? He cautiously met Max’s eyes, and Max did look angry, but he was sending his most ball-withering glare in Sam’s direction, not Steve’s. Dare looked resigned that yes, this had happened and now they’d have to work with what they had. Logan grinned and made a victory fist, which Reagan tapped playfully with her own.
“Oh,” Sam said, “is she engaged?” His voice was uncharacteristically squeaky. “Congratulations! Did you post that on Instagram too?”
“Not yet,” Roux said. “But if you think people were defensive of us before, try messing with us after they hear how Steve proposed.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s very sweet, I’m sure.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Iona interrupted. “Are you threatening us?”
“Don’t forget who owns your contract,” Sam said.
Dare crossed his arms and smiled crookedly. “That would be me.”
“Huh?” Sam blinked.
Actually, they were all blinking at Dare. How had he managed to gain ownership of Baroquen’s contract?
“Your business partners were quite interested in quietly selling their shares in your sinking ship. I got a very good deal.” Dare’s smile broadened. “On all of them.”
“Even if you bought every share available, I still own the majority,” Sam said, but his usual bluster had diminished to a mere breeze.
“True,” Dare said, “but once all of our various lawsuits are officially filed—”
“And won,” Max said with complete confidence.
“And won,” Dare said agreeably, “you’ll have to liquidate your assets, and who in their right mind would invest in an entertainment conglomerate reeking of scandal?”
“No one,” Logan said.
Max elbowed him and nodded at Dare.
Logan’s eyes widened. “Dare?”
“Keep up, Logan,” Max said.
“But why would he . . .” Logan shook his head.
“So all the entertainers who have contracts under this greedy motherfucker aren’t left footing his legal bills and losing everything,” Steve said, wishing Dare stood closer to him so he could hug him. “If you need additional finances, I’ve got some money burning a hole in my bank account.” Steve nodded, meaning every word.
“I might take you up on that,” Dare said. “It’s a lot of power for one man to hold.”
“And responsibility,” Max said. “I’m in too.”
“You guys aren’t leaving me out of this,” Logan said.
“I don’t have much, but I’ll risk everything I have,” Reagan said. “Down to the shirt off my back.”
“If you’re really interested in buying,” Sam said, “we could come up with a fair deal for my shares.”
Steve laughed. “Are you trying to bargain with us? Why would we do that? In case you haven’t been paying attention, we hold all the cards here.”
“It will put you in charge more quickly,” Sam said, “and I’ll quietly go away. You’ll never hear from me or my girlfriend again.”
Steve pressed his eyebrows together. “Girlfriend?” What woman would date the sleazeball?
“Tamara. My girlfriend.”
“Tamara!”
Sam snorted. “With all your digging around my business, you didn’t come across that little gem?”
“Did you know she staged those pictures of us together?” Steve asked. Because what boyfriend would put up with that kind of behavior?
Sam laughed and started backing away from Steve’s open door with renewed confidence. “You guys don’t have shit on me,” Sam said. “I should have known this was a ploy to make me nervous or, I don’t know, but—”
“You stole from us,” Max said, his hand wrapping into the fabric of Sam’s lapel. “Twenty-seven point eight million dollars. We have all the shit on you we’ll ever need. As for the libelous bull in Bianca’s tabloid? She’s going down too. And your sex-offending girlfriend? Steve is going to press charges against her as soon as possible.”
“I am?” Steve asked. He was still reeling over the knowledge that his two least favorite people in the world were a couple. Had that been why Bianca had been so smug when he’d met with her all those weeks ago? Because the man watching Tamara flirt with Steve wasn’t Pyre—as he’d suspected—but Sam? What the fuck? How had they gotten together? Why? When? He had so many questions. Like why did Sam find it humorous that his girlfriend had drugged and molested a man he loathed? Unless he’d put her up to it. Steve wouldn’t put that past him. Maybe he even gave her the key to Steve’s room so she could stage those disgusting pictures. Hell, he might have been holding the fucking camera. And maybe Bianca had posted those pictures online to get Sam and Tamara to break up, not to hurt Steve. But what did it matter? The three of them were all going down in flames, and their disastrous crash was so fun to watch.
“Yes, you are pressing charges,” Roux said quietly, her hand warm against Steve’s lower back.
“Yeah,” Steve said, standing straighter. He should press charges. He probably had the evidence he needed. He definitely had the support to get through the ordeal. “I guess you and your girlfriend can enjoy conjugal visits while you’re both in jail.”
Sam snorted, but he was craftily working his way from the center of the group toward open space farther down the hallway. “White collar criminals don’t go to jail.”
“So you admit you’re a criminal,” Reagan said. “I heard him. Did you all hear him?”
There was a general murmur of consensus.
“That’s not admissible in court,” Sam said. “God, musicians are morons. I don’t know how I put up with you types for all these years.”
“Guess you don’t have to put up with us anymore,” Max said. “As Steve said, you’re fired. We’ll see you in court.”
“If you can find me,” Sam said. He broke free of the crowd and hurried down the hallway. Butch stepped in front of him, looking angrier than Steve had ever seen him.
“Going somewhere?” Butch asked.
Two additional security guards stepped in to flank Butch. One of them—Reagan’s husband Ethan—looked particularly lethal with his biceps bulging above his crossed arms.
“You can’t legally detain me,” Sam said, stepping backward.
“I wasn’t planning on this being legal,” Butch said.
“Allow me,” Ethan said. “I still remember how to give Miranda rights.”
“We aren’t in the US,” Butch reminded him.
Ethan grinned. “True. Guess he doesn’t have any rights, then.”
He dropped Sam to the floor so quickly that a collective gasp filled the hall.
“You have the right to keep your lying, conniving mouth shut,” Ethan said, placing a knee in Sam’s back and whipping out a pair of handcuffs. They were lined with velvet and were obviously of the novelty variety, but that didn’t stop Ethan from clicking one bracelet closed over Sam’s wrist or from them being effective restraints. “You have the right to pay an attorney a lot of money to try to defend your sorry, undeserving ass.”
Steve liked this guy. He needed to hang out with him more often.
“If you can’t afford an attorney, you’re shit out of luck, asshole. No public defender is going to work very hard to help a swine like you.”
“You can’t do this,” Sam said. “You have no authority to—”
Ethan sla
mmed a fist into the floor inches from Sam’s face. “I suggest you exercise that first right before you say something that makes me really mad.”
“He got fired from the force for beating the crap out of some perpetrator,” Reagan said helpfully.
“And that perpetrator didn’t make my wife’s life a living hell,” Ethan said, “so just imagine how much crap I could beat out of you.”
“Buckets of crap,” Logan said.
“Now, I’m not sure how we get you extradited back to the States, but someone at the US embassy will know.” Ethan stood and yanked Sam to his feet. “Are you going to ask your girlfriend to join us peacefully, or should I pretend she resisted my citizen’s arrest as well?”
“You can’t threaten us. Who do you think you are?”
“If this was an action movie, I’d come up with a sweet one-liner right now,” Ethan said with a smirk. He settled for shoving Sam toward the elevator.
“Justice,” Reagan said, following the security team down the hall. “That’s what you should have said, babe. You’re justice.”
“Your worst nightmare,” Max called out his suggestion.
“Your wettest dream!” Azura shouted, and then she lowered her voice to add, “Actually, he should say that to me. Rawr!”
“He’s married to my brother,” Dare pointed out.
“And to your sister-in-law,” Logan said.
“That has to be a total mindfuck,” Max said with a laugh.
Dare grinned. “Not really. If Trey’s happy . . .”
“. . . I’m happy,” half the group said in unison.
“Did you really buy out all of Sam’s partners?” Steve asked Dare.
Dare’s grin changed from sentimental to devious. “Nah. That was a total bluff. I knew it would make that weasel squirm, though.”
“I think we should consider doing it for real,” Steve said. “I thought maybe we’d get around to starting our own label, but if we can buy out our previous label, and all the contracts it currently holds, we could do great things for some truly talented people. As much as I despise Sam, he does have excellent taste in music.”
“Let’s give it some thought,” Max said. “We can have a meeting about it in a few days.”
Staged (Exodus End World Tour, #3) Page 49