Rockstar Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle New Adult BBW)

by Emme Rollins

  The work itself was simple, keeping a lot of balls in the air at once, and triple-checking everything. It wasn’t all that different from the party planning I’d been doing for the past few years, thank goodness. I’d gotten the job based on glowing recommendations from people Ryan respected, but none of them actually had any idea if I could help manage a rock tour.

  It still bugged me that I’d traded on my father’s reputation to get this job, but it was a small price to pay for the opportunity. And it was nice to see that some of his old contacts were willing to help his daughter out, no questions asked. It didn’t change my complicated feelings about that part of my life, but it was something.

  As I went methodically through my list of things to do, certain thoughts kept creeping in, trying to distract me. My father, of course. I’d expected him to loom large over at least the beginning of this job. After all the years I’d spent watching him with musicians, being around them left a hole where he should have been. I missed the sly comments, the silly secrets he’d share with me about each one, taking a lot of the mystique away from the famous faces. And then there was the twinge of bitterness. For the normal life I never got, the protection and knowledge that I was the most important thing to him that I still craved.

  But I also wondered how he’d do without me. The staff at the facility would see to his needs, of course. Every penny he had went to the care that place provided, and they earned it. But they couldn’t be his family. Couldn’t tell him old stories and jokes, kiss his cheek, and tell him they love him like I could. And had, every single day since he’d moved there, after it became clear I couldn’t take care of him by myself anymore.

  I sighed, sending out a few emails while the printer spit out papers that needed to be copied. All the fans who were buying up the last tickets for the upcoming shows would be thinking how cool it would be to be on tour with the band. But from this side, it was a lot of paperwork and communication. Definitely not as sexy as everything seemed when looking up at the stage.

  Speaking of sexy, the other thing on my mind, besides my father, was Dex. Every time I saw a piece of paper with his name, that slow, sexy smile flitted across my brain, and I felt flustered. Even though I knew he was just doing what came naturally and his flirtations had nothing to do with desire for me, he’d managed to get under my skin somehow. We hadn’t exchanged more than twenty words, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. His long stride, or the way the sleek shock of dark hair fell across his face. The sensuous curl of his lips, the naughty twinkle in his midnight eyes.

  Stop it, Becca, I chided myself. There was no point driving myself crazy. Even if I wanted some male attention, it wouldn’t be now, and it certainly wouldn’t be him.

  Pretending that I really believed all of that, I went back to work. In a few hours, I’d managed to complete almost everything on my list and push all of my distractions away. For a while, at least.

  By the time Ryan entered the office I had full packets, electronic and print versions, for him and everyone else on tour staff. Copies had been sent to the members of the band, the label, and a few others on the list he’d provided.

  I was in the process of straightening up when he appeared, seemingly in a better mood than yesterday.

  “Ah, Rebecca. Glad you’re here. Looks like you’ve got things under control.”

  “Yes, Ryan,” I replied, smoothing my hair back. “I think we might be ready to go on Monday.”

  “We better be. There are millions of dollars riding on this tour. Everything must be ready.”

  “Of course. I was just making a little joke. A bad one, I guess. We will be ready.”

  He looked at me for a moment. “Yes. Well, good. So tell me, what did you think of the boys?”

  Ryan sank down into the chair behind his desk where I’d been working. Since we were heading out on the road, there was no reason for them to set up a desk for me, but it was strange to work in someone else’s space.

  “I think they’re ready too. Everyone seems excited to go.”

  “Of course. But what I’m asking is do you think you’ll get along with them? And more importantly, will you be able to control them?”

  “Well,” I said with a small laugh, “As much as anyone could. They’re nice, for the most part, and seem open to working with me, even though I’m new.”

  “Yes. It’s been a little while. My previous assistant left months ago. My other female employees have also been reassigned to tasks that don’t involve close contact with the band.”

  “Um, yes. Joe said there was a…situation.”

  He grunted. “Yes. Very unfortunate. But I don’t expect to have any further problems in that area. You don’t seem like the type of girl to throw yourself at the boys. And, no offense,” he looked me up and down appraisingly, “But you’re not exactly their type either.”

  I agreed with him on both counts, but still bristled a bit at the suggestion that none of the members of the band could possibly find me attractive. I would never win a beauty contest, but I’m not hideous either.

  “Yes, well, I’m here to work, Ryan. Not date.”

  “Good. Though, please remember to be friendly. If the boys think you’re on their side, they’re more likely to trust you and listen to you. It’s a delicate balance.”

  “Of course.” I nodded. “Good cop to your bad cop?”

  “In a way, I suppose.” He sighed and reclined back in the chair. “Everything has changed very quickly, for all of us. Not so long ago, I was their everything.”

  For a moment I saw beneath the gruff and officious exterior. For all his bluster, Ryan really did care about the band. And not just as clients, but as people. It made me smile, and reassured me that I was doing the right thing working for him.

  “But, anyway,” he finally continued, “No time for looking back. This tour is going to send their success to another level. International super-stardom is our aim, Rebecca. Everything rests on this trip.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Now, I have a few more things for you to do this weekend before we leave. You’ll want to write the list down.”

  I swallowed back a groan, and grabbed my notebook. “I’m ready. What’s next?”

  “First, a few errands. Shouldn’t take you more than a few hours.”

  Unsurprisingly, they actually took the rest of the day.

  And the next morning I awoke to an email from Ryan with yet another list of requests. Usually lists calmed me, comforted me. But I was starting to think this job might ruin them for me completely.

  But it wasn’t like I had anything else better to do. There was no loving boyfriend to kiss goodbye, or a huge group of friends to send me off. There had been, at one time. But since my father’s stroke, I’d drifted away from most of my peers. It was hard to chat about clubbing and school, or shopping and sex, when my days were spent caring for my father and driving him to doctor and physical therapy appointments.

  Once I finally made the decision to move him into a care facility, my friends had moved on without me. Oh they’d Facebook me occasionally, and two called when they heard about my new job, but there wouldn’t be anyone at the airport to see me off.

  The only person who’d miss me at all still couldn’t speak much. I’d hugged him tight, and promised to email every day. It took him forever to tap out a response with one hand, but I knew he appreciated hearing from me, and I felt less guilty for leaving if I could keep him up-to-date on what I was doing.

  By Sunday night when I got home, I was so tired I could barely see straight. But I couldn’t go to bed yet. I still had to finish packing my luggage and a few boxes for storage. I retyped the instructions for my subletter, and checked that all the contact information I left her was correct.

  I was pretty sure a bit of light was showing in the sky when I finally closed my eyes. And my alarm woke me a few hours later, but I rose not tired, but hyper. Exhilarated. Ready for the great adventure to begin.

  Chapter Thr
ee

  I’d never been on a private plane before, and didn’t know what to expect. I had researched the storage dimensions and limitations, and reviewed the food and beverage options, but hadn’t thought about what sitting and flying in one would be like.

  Climbing onto the lovely Gulfstream was something of a shock. Fortunately I was the first one there, so none of the band members got to see me staring, open-mouthed, at the plane that would be flying us over the Atlantic Ocean.

  The flight attendant, a brittle-looking woman in her forties, welcomed me aboard and asked if I needed anything.

  “No, thanks,” I told her. “I’m just getting some things ready for the rest of my group.”

  “Fine. I’ll be arranging the galley. Let me know if you do need help finding or stowing anything.”

  I thanked her again, and let myself just gape at the plush décor around me once she’d left. I knew the plane was configured to seat sixteen people, and there would only be twelve of us. Behind the small kitchen area, there were two sets of four seats that swiveled around tables on either side of the aisle. Each had a set of hookups for charging equipment and connecting to the internet. I happily dropped my purse on one, glad I could be online during the flight.

  Then I moved on, checking that everything was clean and tidy. It was, of course. The damn plane cost over fifty million dollars; it’s not like anyone would leave it messy. But I wanted everything to be perfect, so I checked anyway. Behind the business-oriented seating area, there were bench seats, sort of like couches, but attached to the walls. They had tables that slid down from the arms, but were of the same rich dark leather as the other seats. I dropped a folder on each seat for the members of the band, even though I was certain they’d ignore them.

  Past that area, there was a section for storage and eating. A closet on one side, and a table with four chairs on the other. I put the rest of the bags I was lugging into the closet, and turned around. Next to the table, there was a small refrigerator. I opened the door and saw it was fully stocked with wine, water, juices, and sodas. I assumed the beer I’d ordered would be in the larger refrigerator in the kitchen, or galley, as the flight attendant had called it.

  I laughed to myself. Got to get the lingo down.

  Feeling giddy with nervous excitement and lack of sleep, I opened the other door in the back of the plane, and found, as I expected, a bathroom. Compact, but way nicer than any other bathroom I’d seen on a plane. Like the rest of the interior, it was decorated in rich burgundy, cream, and chrome. Even the hand soap matched the colors.

  I shut the door, and went back to the main area. I checked the cabinets across from the bench seating and saw snacks, a telephone, a stereo system, and a DVD player that I assumed was attached to the flat screen that was bolted above it.

  Figuring the guys would want to rest, I decided to move my home base. I folded down the tables in the front so they could recline the seats, plush and almost wide enough to sleep in comfortably.

  I dumped my stuff back on the table and sat down, trying to calm my nerves. As if she understood, the flight attendant strolled back and smiled at me tightly. “Need anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “First flight on a private jet?”

  “Yes. And a brand new job. I’m a little jumpy.”

  The next smile from her was wider, and more genuine, lighting up her whole face. “You poor thing. Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about on this flight. We’re all old pros.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Hey, I know you’re working, but do you want a Bloody Mary or a Mimosa? A little alcohol might be just the thing for your nerves.”

  “I probably shouldn’t.”

  She peered at me closely. “You are over twenty-one, right?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “Well, in that case, come on. I’ll pour you a weak one. Our secret.”

  “Okay. You convinced me. A Mimosa, please.”

  “Good,” she said, turning on her heel. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled, and opened my computer. I plugged it and my cell phone into the chargers on the wall, and put my notebook and a pen on the table in front of me, ready for anything, or so I hoped.

  I took a sip of the quickly delivered drink and sighed, content. It wasn’t like I’d get drunk. And besides, when in Rome, right? When traveling with a hard-partying rock band, drink a little booze. Not as pithy a saying, but just as apt.

  By the time the others arrived, I’d settled in. I finished the drink, and sent my father an email about the fancy plane, knowing he’d get a laugh out of it. As the flight attendant welcomed everyone on board, I fussed over my shirt and jeans, made sure my hair was secured in its tight ponytail – the casual version of my usual bun – and stood to greet them.

  As expected, the band members were quiet, grumpy, and clearly exhausted, with one obvious exception. Where the others grunted hellos and slouched heavily to the closest seats, Joe was wide awake and grinning as he held hands with someone around my age, who must have been his girlfriend, Liss. She was nothing like I’d imagined. She was taller than me, with shoulder-length dark hair that hung in waves around her round, pretty face. Curvy, her body would have been called rubenesque by some. Not at all the model-like waif I figured Joe Hawk would be so obviously crazy about.

  “Becca, this is the girl I told you about, the love of my life, Liss.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Joe, it’s way too early in the morning for that kind of sappiness.” But the pleased smile stretching across her face told me she was anything but annoyed. “Good to meet you, Becca.”

  “You, too,” I replied, fighting an impulse to shake her hand. This was not a business meeting.

  “Have a seat anywhere, you guys. Give me any bags you don’t need to keep with you.”

  Liss thanked me and handed over a small carry-on before she and Joe curled up together on the long bench seat, lost in their own world. The care and intensity of the looks they gave each other made me a little uncomfortable, and I rushed to store the bag and see if anyone else needed my help.

  Rick was slouched down in one of the chairs at the front, sunglasses and a baseball cap concealing most of his face, except for the scowl I’d yet to see him without. Ryan and two men I’d never seen before stood next to him, clearly trying in vain to engage him in a conversation.

  Quiet Matthew was in the chair across from Rick, and already fast asleep. He’d stretched out the chair, and pulled the seatbelt across his body. If I hadn’t seen him climb aboard with the others just a few minutes ago, I’d think he’d been there for hours.

  I stifled a giggle, and turned around to see where Dex had ended up. He was sprawled across the other end of the bench seat with Joe and Liss, his longish hair a disaster, and dressed in what looked like a pair of pajamas. That laugh I couldn’t keep down.

  He cocked his head to the side and looked over at me. “Are you laughing at me, Becca?”

  I cleared my throat. “Of course not. Just wondering about your outfit.”

  He looked down. “It’s a long flight. I want to be comfortable.”

  “That makes sense.” I stifled another snicker.

  “Quit that,” he replied. “I’m very vulnerable when I’m sleepy.”

  “Yeah right.” I was about to tease him some more but then I remembered I needed to keep a professional distance. “Do you need anything? A beverage, or a pillow?”

  “Coffee. Tell me there’s coffee.”

  I smiled. “I’m sure there is. I’ll ask the flight attendant.”

  “Thanks, love.”

  “No problem.” Proud of myself for managing to talk to him without acting like an idiot this time, I fetched the coffee, and brought it back to him.

  “Ah,” he said after taking a sip. “That’s much better.”

  “Long night?”

  “Long life. By the way, I do have real clothes to change into before we land.” He winked. “You can help zip m
e up.”

  I laughed and rolled my eyes.

  Dex patted the space next to him. “Sit down and talk to me for a while. Help me wake up.”

  There was barely enough room for me between his thigh and Joe’s foot.

  “I shouldn’t. There are things I need to do before we take off. Besides, I’m all set up over there at the table.”

  “All right,” he said with playful disappointment in his voice. “We can talk later.”

  “Okay.” I smiled, still amused by the pajamas, but turned to go check in with Ryan instead.

  He nodded as I approached, and introduced me to the rest of the people joining us on the flight. The two men he’d been talking to earlier were from the record label that owned the plane. They were traveling on unrelated business, and basically just catching a ride over to London with us. The other three were crew members I’d seen at my “welcome meeting,” but hadn’t been introduced to. One was a huge bear of a man in all black. He introduced himself as Red, and was the band’s security for the entire trip. The second was a stringy-haired guy named Steve, who was the guitar tech. Apparently all the other tech positions for the European leg of the tour would be staffed by locals, but the band had insisted on having “their guy” taking care of the guitars, and supervising the care of the other instruments.

  The final member of the group was Mia, a tiny redhead, even shorter than me, and about half my weight. Her I remembered hearing about. She was Ryan’s niece, hired last minute to be the official videographer and blogger for the tour. But judging from her bloodshot eyes and queasy expression, she’d been doing more partying than recording lately.