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

by Emme Rollins

  “She’s after him.”

  Ally replied, “Oh, yeah. Cougar on the prowl. Meow.”

  “Will they…”

  “Fuck?”

  “Yes.” I added an unhappy emoticon, pressing send.

  “Probably.”

  I couldn’t look at Roger, so I glanced out the windows at the buildings of downtown Dallas. We would be at the hotel soon. Roger and Mrs. Hadley made small talk, but it was obvious where she thought she would be spending the night. It was an effort to remain as neutral in my expressions as possible, spending all my time clicking on nothing in particular, staring at the phone. I scrolled through hundreds of tweets trying to distract myself.

  The limo went around the back entrance of the hotel, slipping into an underground parking area and stopping near a bank of elevators. Several security people waited for us. Ally had said the band had taken up an entire floor and rented all the rooms. I hated that Roger had barely acknowledged me, focusing his attention on Mrs. Hadley, but what had I expected?

  As we headed for the elevator, she followed us, slinging a Chanel handbag over her shoulder. “You should come to my place,” she purred. “I have a feeling this will be like a frat party.”

  “Ah, honey, you know me better than that.”

  “Yes, I do know you. That’s how I know this is going to give me a splitting headache.”

  “I have my own room, Virginia.”

  “That’s filled with…” she glanced at me…”employees.”

  “The bedroom door has a lock.”

  We were in another elevator, the door sliding closed. “Well, I guess that’s one good thing.”

  Chapter Ten

  The elevator went directly to our floor, and the door hadn’t slid open yet before the sounds of music and laughter reached us. There were several suites on this level, and, as we made our way down the hallway, the double doors of the rooms were open; people spilling out into the hallway with drinks in their hands. All the members of the band were present, the drummer Todd Braxton and his girlfriend, Jennifer, who his wife didn’t know about, and Ricky Rocker and Steve Bale with the women they would share the night with. It was doubtful that any of these women were their wives.

  Dozens of people loitered, some in various states of undress. Seeing Roger, excited murmurings grew louder, as people began to fawn all over him.

  “Hey, dude!” said a short, longhaired man, who looked like a hippie. “We got some grade-A coke. Have a line.”

  Roger ignored him, heading for the suite, which had a security guard stationed out front. He turned to Virginia. “I gotta have a word with my assistant real quick. Make yourself comfortable. Grab a drink.” He glanced at me. “Brandi.”

  “Yes, Mr. Stevenson?”

  He held the door open, letting me pass. “I’ll be right back.”

  Mrs. Hadley seemed less than pleased; her lips were compressed into a thin line. “Great.”

  “Would you like some champagne?” asked Ally.

  “Sure.”

  The door closed behind Roger and me, and, to my astonishment, he stomped towards a lampshade, knocking it over with the back of his hand. The ceramic base fell to the floor, smashing into pieces.

  “FUCK! Goddammit! Son of a fucking bitch!”

  There was a bowl filled with decorative blown glass balls, and he threw one at the wall, the ornament bursting into flying shards of glass. I stood by the door wondering what to do, but he continued to rage, stomping around the room, knocking furniture over and smashing another lampshade. When he had finally gotten the anger out of his system, he sat on the bed, running fingers through his hair.

  I went to him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Why’d that fucking bitch have to show up?”

  “Mrs. Hadley?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I never should’a started it with her. That was stupid, now I’m stuck in it.”

  “Stuck in what?”

  “I have to have sex with her.”

  This was an unpleasant announcement. “Can’t you just say no?”

  He glanced at me, his eyes red-rimmed. “She’s the boss’s wife, Brandi. It would be career suicide to piss her off.”

  At a loss, searching for something to say, I touched his hair, feeling the dampness of the strands. He had just come off the stage after two hours of shaking that sexy ass in front of thousands of screaming fans. He looked tired, he needed a shower, and now he had to deal with the unexpected arrival of Virginia Hadley.

  “Do you want me to tell her you’re not feeling well?”

  He grasped my hand, pulling me to him. “I wish it was just us. I wish…they would all go away.”

  “We can sneak out the back and go to another hotel.”

  “I’m fucked. I gotta do this.” He hung his head. “I’m the hired help. I gotta keep the boss happy.”

  Never had I expected to see Ax Stevenson looking so defeated. For a man who had the world at his feet and the adoration of millions, he didn’t get a free pass exempting him from stress. On the contrary, he seemed to have more than his fair share of drama, and, because of his position in life, it was amplified to a higher degree.

  “I gotta shower, then I gotta get my pimp on.”

  “What?”

  “I used to be an exotic dancer,” he laughed bitterly. “That’s how I got my start. I worked at a club in LA, givin’ ladies the time of their lives. They’d stuff twenty-dollar bills into my G-string. They’d finger my ass and get me hard. I did that for two fucking years before I joined my first band. It’s my dirty secret.”

  I had never heard of this. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I fucked plenty of ‘em too. After getting a case of the crabs, I started using rubbers like a motherfucker. I’d have worn an all over condom, if I could.” He glanced at me. “You’re not gonna go to the National Enquirer with that, are you?”

  I smiled. “No.”

  His arms went around me, his face in my belly. “I don't even know you, but I trust you. I’m probably making a huge mistake.”

  These candid admissions had a profound effect, my tummy teeming with butterflies, as a rush of elation swept through me. “Oh, Roger.”

  “I can’t wait to leave tomorrow. It’s just you and me and, hopefully, my baby girl in the Caribbean. Did you get a hold of her mother?”

  “I’m still working on that. She won’t take my calls.”

  “Of course she won’t, that fucking bitch!” He was angry again, pushing me away, stomping towards the bathroom. “I’m showering. Send Virginia in. The sooner I get this over with, the better.” He slammed the door.

  I glanced around at the room, which looked like a hurricane had blown through. Then I placed a call, hoping to get hold of Ax’s wife, but her answering service picked up. I left a message, telling her that if she refused to talk to me, she would have to face me in person. Then I implemented a little damage control, righting several chairs and picking up broken glass, which I dumped in a trashcan. I hid the lamps behind the sofa. The party had escalated with the sound of the heavy, thumping bass seeping through the walls.

  Opening the door, I came face to face with Mrs. Hadley. “He’s in the shower, but you can go in.”

  She glared at me. “Wonderful.”

  I hated the fact that she would be with Roger…intimately, but there was nothing I could do about it. The buzz I had from the concert was gone, leaving me slightly groggy, but it was imperative that I focus tonight. The sound of glass shattering had my attention, and, a moment later, a naked woman streaked down the hallway, laughing. Several women, all of whom were in various stages of undress, followed her. I spied Denise then, staggering towards me.

  “Where is he?” She looked nearly gray, with dark circles under her eyes.

  “He’s in a meeting.”

  “The fuck he is!” She made a move towards the door, but security stepped in the way. “Get the fuck out! I’m seeing my boyfriend, dammit!” He
r flailing arms connected with the bodyguard’s face, but he withstood the onslaught, holding her firmly. “Let me go!”

  He gave me a look, and I shrugged. “Put her in a room somewhere.”

  “Don’t talk about me like I’m some kind of idiot!” she screamed.

  Ally approached. “Come on, Denise. Let’s have champagne.” She held out a glass. “Roger’s busy right now, but he’ll be out in a bit.”

  Denise pushed Ally, sending her to the wall, while the glass flew into the air, fluid soaking the carpet. “Fuck you too! Fuck all of you!” She stumbled to the floor, but managed to get to her feet. “Fuck you. FUCK YOU, MOTHERFUCKERS!” She disappeared into a room, a door slamming behind her.

  I glanced at Ally. “It’s gonna be a long night.”

  Not knowing when I would see Roger again, I proceeded to find a suite that had ordered copious amounts of room service. A smorgasbord of goodies were neatly presented on several portable tables. Ally and I indulged in shrimp and finger sandwiches along with scrumptious tasting lemon cake. Lauren joined us, and the three of us ate and talked, while the sounds of a woman reaching orgasm registered in a nearby bathroom.

  The bass player for Trash appeared in the doorway, looking confused. Ricky Rocker was known for his talent as a guitarist, but his reputation as a drug addict trumped all else, and tonight he seemed to be in rare form. There was a slip of rubber attached to his upper arm, which he had forgotten to remove after shooting up.

  “Oh, boy,” I murmured.

  Lauren followed my gaze. “Oh, no. He was good for a while. I guess the five-day break will do that. Thank God, Roger isn’t into smack. I’d quit, if he did that shit. The coke was bad enough.”

  I got to my feet. “I need air. Let’s find an open window.”

  “I’ll join you in a second, guys,” said Lauren. “I gotta pee.”

  A layer of haze lingered from cigarette and marijuana smoke. The pungent smell of cannabis would adhere to the carpeting and the draperies, but that wasn’t my concern. In the hallway, there was a woman on all fours puking, while her boyfriend held her hair out of her face.

  “How romantic,” I muttered, as I went by.

  Ally and I headed for the exit, hoping to find a room that wasn’t occupied, but that would take a miracle. We flung open a door, exposing several people on a bed engaged in intercourse. There were bystanders watching, as music blared from a portable stereo. Someone filmed the encounter, while others held up their cell phones to document the event.

  “Oh, Jesus!” cried Ally. “I need brain bleach now! I’ll never get that image outta my head.” The sight had left us in hysterics, and we giggled conspiratorially.

  The next room was quieter, but…not much better. Someone had emptied what looked like several ounces of coke onto a glass coffee table, and women loitered, holding wrapped up dollar bills, waiting for their turn to snort the drug. We went to the window, managing to crank it open several inches, but a lock prevented it from going further.

  “What do you think he’s doing?” I asked.

  “Roger?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Having sex.”

  I glanced out at the lights of Dallas; the vista was filled with towering skyscrapers. “That sucks.”

  “You really like him, don’t you?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “He’s a good guy, Brandi, but he’s been through a ton of shit. He needs some stability in his life. He needs a good woman. Clair was a stuck up bitch who only cared about publicity. She was all about photo ops and looking good in pictures. I can see her being on one of those stupid reality housewives shows in the future. She’d be perfect for that.”

  “I’ve heard about her. Saw her Twitter pics.”

  “Oh, and there were tons of those. She couldn’t stop tweeting that shit. She loved the attention.”

  “I’m trying to get Cailey to the Caribbean. I might have to fly out to New York tomorrow.”

  “I wish you luck with that one. Clair’s been really stubborn about letting Roger see her.”

  Anger began to prick. “I’m not happy about that. He deserves to see his daughter.”

  “Yeah, but that’s because of the assault on Lenny. There’s a lot of bad blood. They’ve got lawyers dealing with it. It’s messy.”

  “I’m going to have to think of something.” There was smoke all of a sudden, and it had nothing to do with cigarettes or marijuana. It was the smell of something burning. “What is that?”

  “Is something on fire?” Ally glanced over her shoulder. There were people running in the hallway; some were naked.

  “FUCK!” A man entered the room, shouting. “The fucking hotel’s on fire! GET THE FUCK OUT!”

  Chapter Eleven

  The moments that followed were nothing short of total pandemonium. Ally and I rushed from the room into a hallway that was rapidly filling with smoke, the acrid smell burning my lungs.

  “Where’s Roger?” I shouted.

  A sense of alarm raced through me, just as the sprinkler system overhead sprayed ice-cold water. There were women screaming, people sprinting down the hall, as they scrambled towards the elevators, finding them inoperable. A loud, shrill bell began to sound. Throngs of partygoers ran towards the stairs, but the fire raged in one of the rooms, the same room I had seen Denise go into.

  “Oh, my God!” I yelled. “We have to get Roger!”

  “Let’s do it!” Ally grabbed my arm, as Lauren suddenly appeared, looking confused.

  “What the fuck is happening?”

  “We have to get out.” I pointed towards the stairs. “Go there! I’m finding Roger!” I was about to take off, when someone took hold of my arm. It was Roger. “Oh, thank God!” I hugged him; both of us were wet from the water pouring from the ceiling.

  “Let’s go!” he shouted. “Come on, girls!” He grinned. “Saved by the bell!”

  “This isn’t funny, Roger,” said Lauren, who had water in her eyes. “This fucking sucks!”

  “It ain’t a party till the cops come!”

  I saw Mrs. Hadley with a security guard, who held a towel over her head, leading her to the stairs. The elevator doors suddenly opened revealing a contingent of firemen, dressed in fire retardant gear and carrying equipment. Roger, Lauren, Ally and I ran for the stairs, along with the other band members of Trash, who were struggling to get their clothes on. I wasn’t going to worry about where Denise was, suspecting she had been the cause of the disaster.

  Roger was in hysterics, laughing like a lunatic in the stairwell. We burst through the doors onto the floor below, running for the elevator, which we were able to utilize along with ten other people, who stood dripping wet. In the lobby of the hotel, chaos reigned, and Lauren was on the phone making arrangements. We would not be able to slip out the back door, and, what was worse, people held up their phones, taking pictures and videos of Roger, whose shirt clung to every muscle on his chest, his hair dripping wet. He looked like a model for a men’s cologne ad. His expression was interested, intense, and disarmingly charismatic. The excitement of the four-alarm emergency had apparently mitigated whatever anger he had felt earlier.

  “You sure are enjoying this.”

  “Honey, welcome to the nut house.” He held out his hand, shaking mine. “Damn glad to meet you. Now, let’s get the fuck outta here!” He glanced at Lauren and Ally. “I got my girls.” His look was heated, as it lingered on me. “I got you. I’m good.”

  “The bus is out front,” said Lauren, who snapped her phone shut. “Let’s go. We gotta run the gauntlet. Sorry.”

  Roger shrugged. “Follow me, ladies.” He waded through the crowd, who stepped aside to let him pass in all his soaking-wet glory. His jeans molded to his bottom, exposing the firm muscles of his form, highlighting the fact that he didn’t wear underwear. His shirt was soaked, clinging to his chest, as was his hair, but flashes went off, and bystanders documented the drama, which was sure to hit the Internet within seconds.

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sp; I spotted Mrs. Hadley, who was trying to make a quick exit; her expression was tense, her anger apparent. She too had been photographed, and I wondered if the media would put two and two together, understanding the significance of the situation. Her husband, Stuart, owned LiveGate Entertainment, and the implications were scandalous.

  Fans pounced the moment we hit the street, screaming when they saw Roger, swarming around him like a pack of love-starved zombies.

  “Ax!”

  “Omigod, Ax!”

  “Can I get your autograph?”

  “Pose with me!”

  “AX!”

  Someone from security managed to pull two girls off Roger, but the damage had been done. He was now missing his shirt, and one of the teens had scratched his neck, clawing at him like a wild animal. We were inside the tour bus within seconds, the door slamming shut behind us, while Ally threw the lock. Women screamed, pounding on the outside of the vehicle.

  “Jesus Christ!” shouted Lauren, grasping a tissue from a box. “I wonder if you’ll need a tetanus shot?” She dabbed at Roger’s bleeding neck. “What a bunch of idiots.”

  The bus moved then, but dozens of bangs resounded, as women drummed on the side of the bus, screaming in near hysterics. “Where’s Denise?” I asked, sitting on the sofa, suddenly exhausted.

  “I’ll make a couple of calls, but I think she’s done now,” said Ally. “Enough’s enough.”

  “I’m good,” said Roger. “It’s just a scratch. I’m hitting the hay.” He glanced at me. “Brandi.”

  I got to my feet. “Yes?”

  He held out his hand. “I need you.”

  Those three words were like music to my ears. “Yes, Mr. Stevenson.” Ally and Lauren exchanged a knowing look. “Let me know if you hear anything about what happened, okay?”

  “Sure thing,” said Ally. “We got it all under control.”

  “Night, guys.”

  “Night.”

  Roger was in the shower, and I entered the small bathroom, surprised by how spacious the enclosure was.

  “You should get in.” He scrubbed his hair with shampoo.

  “Is there room?”

  “You bet.”