One by one, the band enters the room and steps up onto the podium. My heart is beating a hundred miles an hour, and I clamp a hand over my mouth as nausea swims up my throat.
Please don’t throw up. Please don’t throw up. I repeat it on a mantra as my body floods with nervous adrenaline.
I should’ve made Brody come in my place. I’m sure I could’ve sweet-talked him into it. Why the fuck didn’t I think of that earlier?
Micah Rawlings is the third member of the band to walk into the room, and then I see him, just outside the door, not quite visible as he hangs back, waiting for his cue. My heart stutters, and the fluttering sensation in my chest intensifies. My eyes well up, and I silently beg my body to get with the program before I completely humiliate myself.
I glance over my shoulder, wondering if I can make a last-minute dash for the exit, but the room is packed to capacity, and there are rows of reporters standing behind the occupied seats, blocking the doors and squashing that plan on the spot.
I pinch my leg hard, trying to ground myself, as Ryder steps into the room, and I stop breathing.
The rest of the room disappears in an instant, and I only see him, walking with confidence toward the podium. His dark denims hug his long, lean legs, and his vintage Rolling Stones T-shirt is molded to his toned abs and impressive chest and stretched firmly around rippling biceps. Both arms are covered in tattoos, and one of his eyebrows is pierced.
When I first saw photos of him with his newly shorn hair, I was disappointed he’d chopped off his long blond locks, but now I see how very wrong I was. Cut tight at the sides, and slightly longer on top, there is no more hair left to hide behind, and his flawless features are on full display.
Ryder remains, to this day, the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
He flashes his trademark smile, one I know is orchestrated for the public, because his eyes don’t light up the way they used to when he smiled at me, but half the women in the room still visibly swoon, totally taken in by the act.
I’m in a daze as he takes his seat alongside the other band members, and I can’t drag my eyes from him. It’s as if I’ve been transported back into my teenage body, and every emotion I felt the first time I laid eyes on him is waylaying me again. That invisible pull I always felt in his presence tugs on my heartstrings, adding to my pain.
No amount of preparation could’ve equipped me for this.
“Are you okay?” The man beside me whispers, peering at me with a mix of concern and wariness.
It’s only now I realize my entire body is shaking and a few tears have escaped my eyes. I swipe them away quickly, fixing a smile on my face. “I’m fine. I just got some bad news before arriving,” I lie. He seems to buy that, turning away and refocusing on the press conference which has just kicked off.
I try to listen, to take notes, but my concentration is screwed, and my eyes keep returning to Ryder of their own volition.
He casually leans back in his chair, answering questions when directed to him, and his passion for music still comes across loud and clear as he discusses plans for their next album and tour. But his whole demeanor changes when anyone asks anything personal, and he instantly shuts down.
In between questions, he looks distracted, shifting on his seat in a way that makes me wonder if he’s high. He continuously scans the crowd, his brow slightly furrowed, and I duck my head down on several occasions when his gaze wanders in my direction.
When their manager brings the event to a close, I glance at the page in front of me, groaning when I see the measly three things I’ve written down. The guys better give me something good in private, or Harrison will fire my preoccupied ass.
The band members leave the stage to a rapturous round of applause, and I hang back in the crowd until I’m sure they’re long gone. This also grants me time to give myself another little pep talk. However, my nerves are still frayed as I make my way to the top of the room. At this point, I’d just rather get this over and done with. There is nothing I can do to stop this train wreck from happening. Not unless I want to lose my job, and I can’t afford to.
Before I lose my nerve and run out of the place, I force one foot in front of the other and approach the podium. When I introduce myself to Rod Hemsworth, shock splays across his face, and that reaction tells me a lot. “I’m taking it Ryder doesn’t know I’m standing in for Mikayla?”
He composes himself rapidly, thrusting out his hand. “Forgive me, Ms. Williams. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I wasn’t aware Ms. Evans wasn’t joining us.”
“She went into early labor,” I explain, “so Harrison asked me to step in. I hope it won’t be a problem, and I can assure you of my professionalism.”
“I don’t doubt that.” His smile is kind and warm, and it helps to settle my nerves a little. “Ryder has told me a lot about you, and it’s truly wonderful to meet you at long last.” I can’t mask my surprise, and he notices. “That surprises you?”
I nod. “I can’t imagine why he would have discussed me with you or anyone.”
He scrubs a hand over his neatly trimmed beard as he considers how to respond. “You have been one of the most influential people in his life.”
What a crock of shit, but I smile, like expected, nodding politely. “Should we get started?” I ask before I decide to jettison my career by hightailing it out of there.
“Absolutely.” He ushers me forward, and we head out through the same door the band exited.
I’ve heard that Rod is one of the nicest managers in the business, and by the time we arrive at the suite where the band is waiting, I concur, even if half of what he said went in one ear and out the next. It’s difficult to concentrate on conversation when my heart’s about to take flight from my chest.
I wipe my clammy hands down the front of my dress as Rod escorts me into the presidential suite, repeatedly telling myself I’m a professional and I can do this, in the hope it might actually stick.
When we enter the main living area, only three members of the band are present. Ryder is noticeably absent, and a strange combination of relief and disappointment washes over me.
No wonder the guy downstairs was looking at me like I’m insane, because I’m so highly strung it feels like I’m about to snap.
Garrett Jones is the first to approach me, his eyes drinking me in with obvious pleasure as he steps forward, taking my hand without invitation and bringing it to his lips. I think I hear Rod sigh, but I could be mistaken.
Gosh, Garrett is really fucking hot in the flesh. The videos and pics I’ve seen of him do not do him justice at all.
With his cropped dark hair and piercing green eyes, he’s working a completely different look to Ryder even if they share a love of tattoos and eyebrow piercings. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” he says, by way of introduction, and I fight an eye roll.
“Aren’t you a walking cliché,” I retort, more calmly than I feel, clutching the strap of my bag like it’s a lifeline.
“Never pretended to be anything else,” he quips, gesturing at himself. “What you see is what you get.” He leans in closer to me. “Liking what you see yet?”
Ugh.
“If you think those cheesy pickup lines will work on me, think again.” I take a couple steps back, lifting my chin up and straightening my spine, hoping it hides how badly I’m shaking right now. I’ve faked bravado on more than one occasion, and I can do it again. Although I know it’s easier because Ryder’s not in the room.
“Can I get you anything to eat or drink, Ms. Williams,” Rod asks, holding out his hand for my jacket.
“A bottle of water would be great.” I remove my jacket and scarf and hand them to him. “And please call me Zeta.”
I put that out there as a test because I want to see how the other members of the band react to my name. It’s not that common, and I want to know if Ryder has told
them about me too. But as I subtly peruse their reactions, I realize they’ve no clue who I am, and that relaxes me a little more. The only guy with a spark of recognition is the big guy standing in the corner of the room with his arms folded. Judging by the size of him, and his serious manner, I’m guessing he’s part of their security detail.
“Where is Ryder?” Rod asks as he steps into the kitchen.
“He had some business to attend to,” Garrett says, waggling his brows and enunciating the word so it’s clear exactly what he means.
My face twists into a grimace. Really? He’s that desperate to blow his load he couldn’t wait till after our meeting concluded? A stab of pain slices through my heart, but I latch onto my anger instead, focusing on his lack of professionalism rather than the image of him fucking some random girl while keeping me waiting.
“Don’t sweat it, boss,” Micah says, smiling at me. “We’ll take great care of Zeta while we wait for the slut to show his face.” He pushes Garrett aside, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek. “I’m Micah, and you’re beautiful.”
“Flattery won’t work either,” I deadpan, and he laughs.
“Worth a try,” he says, winking as he reclaims his seat.
Scott White is the last one to come forward. He shakes my hand firmly. “Take no notice of these d-bags. They still act like they’re in high school.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve been around enough rock stars to know the score. And I’d put it more at middle school level,” I joke, accepting a bottle of water from Rod with a smile.
“Mikayla isn’t available because she’s just had a baby,” Rod explains. “Zeta also works for RockOut, and she has excellent credentials.”
“That she does,” Garrett cuts in. His eyes hungrily roam my body, lingering on my chest.
“I don’t think Rod was talking about her tits, dude,” Micah teases.
“Sweetheart, you have the best rack I’ve seen in a long time,” Garrett blatantly says. “How about a little private show after we’re done talking?”
“Not a chance in hell.” I steel my eyes at him.
“You seem uptight,” he says, his hands automatically going to my shoulders. “I can help you loosen up.”
Shucking his hands off me, I give him a tight smile when I really want to knee the presumptuous prick in the balls and flip him the bird. “I’ll pass. Thanks.”
“C’mon, doll. I know you want to, and I’m horny as fuck.” He rubs a hand over his crotch while Rod shakes his head, muttering under his breath.
I take it back.
Garrett may look hot on the outside, but his asshole personality completely diminishes his attractiveness. It’s clear his rep has been well earned. “You’re not seeing my tits. Or any part of me for that matter. Might as well put that out there now.” I glare at him, struggling to maintain my professionalism.
“Famous last words, baby,” he says, instantly dragging me back to a different time and place.
CHAPTER 20
Ryder
Gar’s words transport me back to juvie, and Lopez’s voice echoes in my head as I hear him say the exact same thing to Zeta all those years ago.
I’ve stood in the hallway of the suite these past few minutes trying to make my legs move, but they’re rooted to the marble floor, frozen in shock and disbelief. I thought I was hallucinating at first when I heard her sultry, seductive voice, and it wouldn’t surprise me because she’s been on my mind continuously since my visit to Orange County last week.
I’ve listened as Gar and Micah both hit on her, a proud smile ghosting over my lips as Zeta effortlessly deflected their piss-poor flirting attempts.
My heart is going crazy behind my rib cage, and I’m awash with emotions I’ve worked hard to bury. I’m torn between running in there and grabbing her into my arms or fleeing out the door.
She shouldn’t be here.
I’ve gone to great lengths to ensure our paths never cross, but I suspect fate is fucking with me again.
Now I know why I was on edge throughout the press conference.
I felt her in the room.
I know I sound like a pussy again, but I swear I sensed she was there. I just couldn’t pinpoint why every molecule of my body was on high alert, why static electricity was pulsing in the air, or why my eyes roamed the room, searching and seeking.
I know what’ll happen when I step into that room. And I know I can’t deflect it for much longer. I also know I’ve zero intention of fleeing this place. I’m not strong enough to walk away from her again.
As my mind’s been churning, my feet have been moving of their own accord. I step into the living room as Gar’s hand hovers over Zeta’s chest. “C’mon, babe. Just let me cop a feel.”
Red heat sweeps over me, and I’m two seconds away from charging the asshole when Rod rides to the rescue. “It’s nice of you to finally join us, Ryder.”
Zeta’s facing Gar, with her back to me, and I watch her spine stiffen as the air crackles with electricity. Trailing my eyes over her curvy figure, I note she’s still got beautiful long, dark hair, one hell of an ass, and those long, long legs, encased in a pair of fuck-me boots I wouldn’t mind wrapping around my neck.
While I’ve been drooling, and Zeta’s evidently distracted, Gar’s made a move, and his hand now cups her left tit. Anger burns through my veins, and my hands curl into fists. “Get your fucking hands off her, Gar.”
Gar removes his hand, smirking. Zeta drops her chin for a split second, and her chest heaves. Tension hovers in the space between us, and the urge to comfort her hits me hard and fast. I’m striding across the room toward her without hesitation.
Jerking her head up, she slowly turns around, and my world shifts sideways.
I slam to a halt, almost brought to my knees. I swallow hard as my heart swells to bursting point. Every single thing I’ve ever felt for her hits me like a bolt of lightning as we stare at one another. My heart thuds painfully, and it feels as if all the air is being squeezed from my lungs. A strange, strangled sound escapes my lips, and a single, solitary tear rolls down her cheek.
The guys trade puzzled expressions, watching the exchange between Zeta and me with avid curiosity.
I move toward her involuntarily as if some invisible string is drawing me in. “Zeta,” I rasp, my voice choked with emotion. I can only imagine what’s showing on my face.
My voice seems to snap her out of whatever shared emotional moment we’re in. Thrusting her arms up in front of her, she holds her palms mere millimeters from my chest. “Stop right there, Rock Star.”
There’s not much space between us, and my eyes rake over her familiar features, while I drown in a host of competing emotions.
When I left her, she was still just a girl, but she’s all woman now. I’ve seen photos of her during our separation, but a photo doesn’t come close to the real thing. She’s even more beautiful than I remember, having grown into her skin with flawless ease. She’s the most stunningly gorgeous woman I’ve ever known, and the time apart has done nothing to dull my feelings for her.
She is still my everything.
Her smoldering eyes blaze with an indecipherable emotion, and I can’t hold back. “I can’t believe you’re here,” I croak, struggling to contain my feelings. “You look so incredibly beautiful.”
A muscle ticks in her jaw and she purposely glances down my body. “Your fly’s undone.”
Her cold tone matches her icy expression, and I gulp over the lump suddenly clogging my throat. Gar snorts and Micah sniggers while Rod and Scott look at me with the usual disappointment. Shame slays me as I zip up my fly, realizing she knows exactly why I’m late. I could tell her it’s all her fault for putting me so on edge downstairs I needed the release.
When the reporter from Blazing Trail propositioned me in the hallway outside the conference, I didn’t consider turning h
er down, letting her take me into the wheelchair accessible toilet where she dropped to her knees and blew me so hard I shot my load right down her throat.
Something I’m now seriously regretting because the look of disgust on Zeta’s face guts me to my core.
“It’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” I blurt, wanting to remove that look from her face.
“Who you put your dick in is of no concern to me,” she coolly states. “I’m here for one reason only, and that’s for the interview. I’m on a tight schedule, so I’d prefer if we could get started. We’re already behind.”
My heart hurts. Like it’s seriously fucking aching. I wonder if this is what it feels like right before you take a massive coronary.
“Sit down, Ryder.” Rod sends me a loaded look, gesturing at the couch across from Zeta, and I move toward it in slow mo, dropping down beside Micah and Scott like I’m in a trance.
Of course, Gar has positioned himself right beside her with Rod seated in the chair in front of the fireplace. I glare at my bud, warning him with my eyes. The gloating smirk he sends me back does nothing to reassure me. I’m going to fucking kill him if he as much as looks funny at her.
Rod kicks off the meeting, explaining our idea for the new biography and confirming we had intended to offer the opportunity to Kayla, but as she’s no longer available, we’d like to explore the possibility of Zeta backfilling the place.
His eyes drift to mine as he speaks, and I’ve got to say I’m surprised he didn’t pull me aside to give me a heads-up. He knows she’s my ex and that she’s important to me. He doesn’t know the exact circumstances of how we broke up or that I’m still being blackmailed over my past. I know if I told him that he’d stick a P.I. or the police on it, and I can’t take that risk. They’d throw my ass in jail for breaking the terms of my release agreement, and then who’d protect my girl? He’s always been very resourceful, and I’m taking no chances when it comes to Zeta’s life, which is why we can’t let her do this.
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