Rock Star Romance Ultimate: Volume 1

by Olivia Cunning, Jayne Frost, RB Hilliard, Crystal Kaswell, Michelle Mankin, Emily Snow, Athena Wright

  “Come on, Wynne, this is Sander we’re talking about. Did he promise you the finale if you slept with him? Did he threaten you, if you didn’t?”

  “What? No! I’m telling you, nothing happened.”

  Her face twisted in anger as her hands flew into the air. “You’re not giving me anything to work with! I can’t go to bat for you, if you don’t give me something!” Jayne’s words seared through me as their meaning hit home. She wasn’t just badmouthing Sander, she was looking for something to use against him. Once again, I was faced with a choice. I could lie and say he coerced me, or I could tell her that we never slept together and that Ferris had planned the whole thing. Hell, I could take them both down if I wanted. I could . . . but I wouldn’t.

  “I don’t need you to go to bat for me. Sander did nothing wrong.” Her eyes closed. When she opened them back up, her expression turned calculating.

  “Well, the network can’t leave this as is, which means there will be a formal investigation. If we discover that Sander is in any way at fault, we will be forced to take legal action. If we discover that you breached your contract, you will forfeit your title as Million Dollar Musician to the runner up, Ferris Leon.”

  “And what happens when you discover that Ferris set this all up? What then?” I challenged.

  “I guess we will have to cross that bridge when we come to it.” No, we wouldn’t, because we both knew there would be no investigation. I may be naïve, but I wasn’t stupid. They would find out everything, Sander would be fired, and I would be in the exact same position as I was now. Only then they would know the truth. Right now, they had nothing but conjecture to go on. I wasn’t about to give them more.

  “You know what? Ferris can have it.”

  “Wynne—”

  “I mean it. Ferris can have the money and the contract. I just want to leave.”

  “We can fight this. I will help you fight this,” she argued.

  “I thought Sander was your friend?”

  “Pft,” she waved her hand in the air. “Sander is nothing but a power-hungry man whore. This show is my baby and I’m not about to let his inability to keep his dick in his pants destroy it. He’s known for this, you know. You’re not the first woman he’s ruined and you certainly won’t be the last. Now, wake the hell up girl! Her words stung, but her attitude is what convinced me that I was doing the right thing.

  “Sorry, Jayne. You’ll have to ruin Sander another way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going.”

  She scanned the room, stopping on my packed bags. “That’s too bad, however, I can’t let you leave until we get it in writing.” I could tell she didn’t believe me.

  “Show me where to sign.”

  Her face scrunched at my challenge. “Seriously, Wynne, I can’t believe you’re doing this!”

  It took about an hour for the network lawyers to arrive. While waiting on them, Jayne convinced me to cancel my flight and take the company jet. She claimed it was for safety purposes, but my guess is she didn’t want me talking to the press. She didn’t have to worry.

  Hours later, while I was shooting across the night sky, all I could think about was Sander. A small part of me thought that he would show up at my place tonight. At least then, I could have looked him in the eyes while confronting him.

  On the cab ride to my house, I thought about the guitar. I shouldn’t have taken it, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. If anything, it was a reminder, not just of my love but of my stupidity.

  Slowly, I scrolled to our text thread and stared at the words we’d written. I wanted answers. I needed to know, but all I could seem to get out was one word: Why?

  Why did he let me fall in love with him? Why couldn’t he love me back? Why did he say those things to Ferris? Why did it have to hurt so bad? Why?

  As I stepped inside the house and saw my mother asleep on the sofa with my fur babies curled around her legs, the tears that I’d been holding inside—the soul-shattering, gut-wrenching, God- fucking-awful pain—that I’d somehow managed to keep at bay, flooded to the surface. Sobs wracked my body as I lowered my bags to the floor . . . and let it all go.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  * * *

  “AIN’T NO REST FOR THE WICKED”

  Sander

  After several hours and no ability to communicate with anyone except for the two security guards standing outside the door—time that I could have spent fixing my colossal fuck up, but instead was trapped inside a dressing room and treated like a prisoner—Jayne finally decided to grace me with an appearance.

  “It’s about fucking time,” I growled. She whisked past me, her floral scent following in her wake, as she strode across the room and took a seat. After a moment of fishing around inside her purse, she pulled out my phone.

  “You left it on the judges’ table,” she explained before tossing it my way. Snatching it out of the air, I punched in my security code and scrolled through my missed messages, of which I had plenty. Disappointment, followed by something that felt a hell of a lot like despair, took hold when I saw that none of them were from Wynne.

  “Have a seat.” Her sharp command felt like acid on an already festering wound. Fuck her. If she thought she was going to roll in here after treating me like shit and start making demands, she had another thing coming. Ignoring her, I continued to scroll through my messages. I knew exactly how this was going to go. She would accuse and I would deny. She would threaten, and again, I would deny. My one and only objective was to protect Wynne, and I would do that at all costs. If it wasn’t for Wynne, I would have told the guards to kiss my ass. On the way out the door, I would have flipped Jayne and the network off. Instead, I was going to have to bend over while they screwed me. I would do just about anything, including taking it without lube, as long as they made things right with Wynne. Swallowing back my anger, I shoved my phone in my pocket.

  Once I was seated, she nodded to the guard. The door clicked shut and we were left in a room filled with silence. A long, tense moment passed before she finally spoke. “You’re angry.”

  “How observant of you,” I bit back. A smile lit up her face as she settled back in her chair.

  “Tonight was fucking brilliant. I couldn’t have planned it better, if I’d tried.” A sudden feeling of dread slithered through me.

  “I’m not following.”

  “You were amazing—all pissed off and screaming for justice. Truly, it was an Academy Award worthy performance. I didn’t know you had it in you, old man.” The sound of her laughter was like fingernails on a chalk board.

  “Care to fill me in on what the hell you’re talking about?” I asked.

  Her smile melted into a pout. “Oh, come on. Tell me tonight wasn’t epic?” Was she kidding?

  “Tonight was a major clusterfuck. Ferris tried to blackmail me, and what you heard was a small clip of me telling him to go fuck himself.”

  “No, what I heard was you telling the world that you were above it all. What were your words? Oh, yes, you own the show, therefore you can fuck who you want, when you want. If you ask me, Ferris was simply protecting himself.” The thought that Jayne believed Ferris over me had me scrambling. Jayne and I were colleagues. I wouldn’t exactly call her a friend, but I would certainly have a drink or two with her after work. Ferris was nothing but a twerp with a giant chip on his shoulder.

  Leaning forward, I speared her with a glare. “Are you accusing me of something, Jayne?” My gut clenched at the sight of her smile.

  “When I told Ferris to get proof, I never dreamed he would go so far as to record you.” In that moment, my whole world narrowed down to one word: Proof. “I knew you weren’t sleeping with her,” she tsked. “She’s just a child, for Christ sake, but that’s beside the point. Ferris thought you were.” Wynne was hardly a child. “I dismissed his accusations, of course,” she continued, “but then the ratings started to slip and the big guys started grumbling, and that’s when it hit me. This was an opportunity. Not just
any opportunity, but possibly the opportunity of a lifetime. I could use that recording to turn this show on its head. I wouldn’t just give them ratings, I would make Million Dollar Musician the most talked about show of the year.” Her words left me speechless. How did I miss this? How did I, the master manipulator, get out manipulated? “Go ahead, check the ratings,” she urged, her expression bloated with pride. Slowly, I slid my hand inside my pocket. My mind raced as I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen. Ferris had gotten to Jayne. They’d planned the whole thing. As I slid my finger across the screen in the direction of the search engine, I spotted the dictation app. It was one I used for recording lyrics. “See?” she gloated.

  “MmmHmmm,” I murmured, and while pretending to check out the ratings, I opened the app.

  “Thanks to me, we are now sitting at number one.”

  I waited for her to look away before pressing record. Then, clicking the button on the side of my phone, I blanked the screen before placing it on the chair beside me with the mic facing in her direction. “So what? This was a ploy for better ratings?” She cocked her head, as if sensing a trap, and my pulse shot through the roof. “Don’t get me wrong, it was genius of you, but also a pretty big gamble, don’t you think?” I needed her confession. If I had to stroke her ego to get it, so be it.

  “You’re really upset about Wynne.” She sounded surprised by this. I was way more than upset. I was furious.

  “Wynne is innocent in all of this. Nothing happened between us,” I said for the sake of the recording.

  “I know that, but if I didn’t do something, there would be no show. Like all others, Million Dollar Musician would be nothing but a one-season wonder, destined for greatness but falling short. I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

  “Great, so now that you have your numbers, you can make it right. Just think what will happen when you call Ferris out on his lie and crown Wynne the official winner? Not only will the numbers skyrocket, but America will praise you for doing the right thing.” Come on, take a fucking bite. We both knew this wasn’t going to happen, but I wanted her to say it.

  “I can’t do that. Surely you can see—”

  Cutting her off, I said, “What I see, is that you used me. Not only that, but you used a lie drummed up by a jealous kid in order to ruin his fellow contestant’s chances of winning. Ferris came at me with unfounded accusations. When he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere, he tried to blackmail me. My words were taped without my consent, taken out of context, and used against me. You condoned this, which means that XtBS condoned it. Talk about a huge fucking lawsuit. Imagine what would happen if this got out? Wynne won. I know it, you know it, and America knows it.” Her eyes flashed in anger.

  “Are you threatening me? Because it sure as hell sounds that way. I did what I had to do in order to save this show, to save both of our jobs!”

  “Fuck this show! You need to make this right! You need to pick up that phone, call whomever the fuck is in charge, and —”

  “I can’t!” she screeched over me.

  “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  “I mean, I can’t. Wynne wanted out. I tried to talk to her. I told her I would go to bat for her, but she wouldn’t listen. She relinquished her contract. I have it in writing.” The air shot from my lungs. No way in hell was I letting this happen.

  “I’ll talk to her. We can fix this. Where is she now, in her room?” Bolting from the chair, I started for the door.

  “You’re too late!” she called after me. “She’s already gone. The jet took off over an hour ago, and trust me when I say she wants nothing to do with either of us.” A wave of anger, so potent that it filled me to the point of exploding, swept through me.

  “Make this right,” I ground out between clenched teeth.

  “I can’t. In fifteen minutes, the network will make a formal statement declaring Ferris Leon the Million Dollar Musician. I’m sorry, but it’s over.”

  “The hell it is!” Turning on my heel, I stormed for the door.

  “Wait! I have your new contract. I got them to agree to five years!” Too late, I thought as my fingers grasped the handle. “I’ll get them to add on the recording deal!” she screeched when she realized I wasn’t stopping.

  “Fuck you, Jayne!” I tossed over my shoulder as I wrenched open the door and exited the room. Damnit to hell. This was way worse than I’d imagined. At least I had the recording to fall back on. A sudden thought slipped into my brain. What if it didn’t record? My steps faltered. Talk about an epic fuck up. I sidestepped into an empty corridor, yanked my phone from my pocket, and flipped open the app. The breath I’d been holding gushed from my lungs when I saw the blinking red light. Just to make sure, I hit the stop button and reversed it to the beginning. When I pressed play, my voice came through loud and clear. I waited to hear Jayne speak before hitting stop on the recording. If worse came to worse, this was my ace in the hole. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to use it.

  Jayne would expect me to go back to the rental property, so I caught a cab to the network lot instead. Four months ago, when we first arrived on set, I traveled back and forth between the rental house and the trailer. After a few weeks of this, I decided it was more convenient just to stay on campus. For privacy purposes, I never bothered to advertise this, which was good because I was now going to use it to my advantage.

  “Mr. James, I wasn’t expecting you so late,” Tim the security guard called out when he saw me entering the trailer. My hand froze on the door. Shit. Had Jayne gotten to him yet?

  “Yeah, I . . . uh, just need to grab a few things,” I called over my shoulder.

  “Listen . . . about tonight. I want you to know how sorry I am.”

  “Thanks,” I responded, wishing that he would just shut it and go.

  “Well, I’ll just leave you to it then. Have a good night.”

  “You, too,” I said, as I pushed through the door.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was back in the cab and heading across town to a small boutique hotel I preferred to stay at when visiting the city. The staff was both professional and discreet, two things that were invaluable in my line of business. The cab driver helped me haul my shit into the lobby. When I tried to pay him extra, he waved it off, proving that good people still exist in the world.

  I checked in as Mr. James Sanders and told them I didn’t want to be disturbed. I then carted my bags to the elevator and rode it up to my suite. Once I was safely behind closed doors, I dropped to the sofa. Scrubbing my hands across my whiskered face, I whispered, “Fuck.” What now? I wanted to call Wynne, but what would I say? I’m sorry, but I thought he was bluffing? I’m sorry I ruined your life? Every time I closed my eyes, I heard her voice in my head. “I want you to assure me that this won’t cost me the competition.” Without a second thought, I’d granted that promise. I lied to her. Who cared if it was unintentional. I was a promise breaker, a washed-up loser who never seemed to learn from his mistakes. On my rise to the top, I’d hurt so many people, and on my way back down, I’d burned every last bridge to the ground. Now, I was where I deserved to be. I was alone. For a brief moment in time, I hadn’t been, though. I’d been with Wynne and she’d made me feel . . . alive. The first moment I set eyes on her, I knew she was special. She’d charmed me with her smile and enchanted me with her voice. I was captivated by her spirit, delighted by her innocence, and obsessed with her body.

  “I have to fix this,” I announced to the empty room. It was too late to accomplish that tonight. Tonight, I would get my shit together. In the morning, I would assess the damage and figure out a way to fix it. Then, and only then, would I reach out to Wynne. I didn’t care who I hurt or how many bridges I had to burn. One way or the other, I was going to make this right.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  * * *

  “HIDEAWAY”

  Wynne

  My homecoming was bittersweet. Bitter, because I should have been in Denver celebrating my win. I should have been gea
ring up for the next step in my career. The sweetness came in the fact that I now viewed home in a different light. I could thank Sander for that. He’d shown me that, aside from myself, my family were the only people I could trust in this God-awful world.

  After my breakdown, my mother demanded answers. Even though she deserved them, I wasn’t ready to put words to my feelings. I was beyond exhausted. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to escape to my bedroom, to try and sleep away the pain. Mom finally relented, but only because my stepfather, Walter, saw that I wasn’t going to budge, and advised her to let it go. Trust me, if he hadn’t been there, she would have pushed the matter. We would have fought and I would have said things I would later regret. I may be even-tempered like my dad, but my stubbornness came directly from my mom.

  The next morning, I woke to my mother hovering over me with a cup of coffee in her hand and a determined look on her face.

  “Up and at ‘em, sweet cheeks. It’s time to talk.”

  “Nooooo,” I groaned, pulling the pillow over my head.

  “People are starting to gossip, and I don’t know what to tell them. The phone has been ringing nonstop. I finally had to unplug it.” Shit. I was worried this would happen.

  Pulling up onto my elbows, I took the cup from her hands and downed a quarter of it in one swallow. She wanted answers. Well, so did I.

  “You know you can tell me anything,” she coaxed.

  “I know, Mom. I—”

  Before I could finish my sentence, a familiar voice shouted, “Hellooooo?” from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Carrie’s on her way over.” The conspiratorial smile on my mother’s face told me exactly how far she was willing to go to get answers. I expected subterfuge, but using my best friend was just plain low.

  Other than a few texts, I hadn’t spoken to Carrie since before Christmas break. It wasn’t because I didn’t love her, but because all of my time had been consumed by the competition . . . and Sander. Afraid that she would somehow wheedle the truth from me, I’d pretended to be too busy. I fully planned on telling her everything, just not today.