Rock God (Hearts of Metal Book 3)

by Ann,Brooklyn

  An answering melody trilled from across the room. Everyone turned to see the bride. She wore a full-skirted crimson wedding gown, playing her guitar as she approached her groom. A little girl in a matching red dress led her, scattering red rose petals. Only one man frowned as Kinley passed, and Shayna guessed that it was her father. Kinley had said she would be giving herself away, not wanting to bow down to patriarchal standards.

  Shayna shook her head. She couldn’t help but admire Kinley for insisting on choosing how her wedding went. Shayna’s uncle had given her away, a man she’d met only twice before, and Shawn’s family had organized the whole thing. If Shayna were ever to remarry, she wanted to decide exactly what kind of wedding she wanted.

  In awe she watched as Kinley and Quinn met, their fingers moving in blurs along the necks of their guitars in an impossibly furious melody. Finally, when their mixed guitar solo faded away, the minister smiled and began a short, sweet ceremony. At the end she pronounced them husband and wife.

  Quinn and Kinley turned and shared a kiss so passionate and tender that Shayna almost felt guilty watching. Her wedding had been nothing like this.

  Dante and Collette made their way onstage, and Kinley gasped in shock. Then, unbelievably, she turned and found Shayna with her eyes, clearly concerned. Shayna hurried to smile and give her a knowing nod, assuring the bride it was all okay. And, actually, watching Dante and Collette perform their song was more tolerable the second time, the wedding atmosphere reinforcing that the passionate mood and longing lyrics weren’t about them.

  After Collette left the stage, Dante did his “Catch the Rainbow” cover, staring at Shayna the entire time. Only for a fleeting moment did she wonder why Collette hadn’t done the other song she rehearsed, but then her eyes and ears were Dante’s alone. And when he took his bow and crossed the room to sit by her side, Shayna’s heart swelled with warmth.

  Everyone soon filed out of their chairs to join the receiving line, and Shayna felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and almost gasped when she saw it was Collette. The pop star’s pale blue eyes studied her intently without giving anything away.

  “Shayna, right?”

  “Yes?” Shayna nodded cautiously.

  “Can I talk to you for a moment in private?”

  The pop star’s voice sounded shaky, and too startled to do anything else Shayna gave her another tentative nod. “Um, okay.”

  Collette led her up the stairs and into one of the White House’s old bedrooms. From the mirrors and hangers and Kinley’s discarded clothes it seemed to have been used as a dressing room. The pop star sat in one of two antique chintz chairs and gestured for Shayna to take the other.

  A hundred speculations about what Collette would say roared through Shayna’s mind: “Go away. Dante and I are getting back together.” “Stay away from my man.” “Oh, you think you can date a rock star? How cute.” What the singer actually said nearly made Shayna fall out of her seat.

  “I overheard the other women talking about what happened to you.” Her sonorous voice held an undercurrent of some familiar sorrow.

  Shayna blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “That your baby died.” Collette’s eyes glimmered with genuine compassion. “I am so sorry. I had a miscarriage, myself, and I completely fell apart.”

  Shayna’s chest tightened in sympathetic agony. “Oh…that’s terrible. Is that why…?” She trailed off, not wanting to be rude. And it would be even more rude to ask if the child had been Dante’s.

  “Why I quit singing?” Collette said pointedly. “Yes. When I finally convinced Michael to start a family, I intended on taking a hiatus. But I lost the baby only three months after I got pregnant, and I also lost the will for…well, everything.”

  The pop star sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, a surprisingly human gesture given her image. “All Michael cared about was me getting back to work. My producer and record company were the same. They wouldn’t understand my refusal. But…how could I sing? How could I want to prance around on stage in a skimpy outfit when my heart was breaking?”

  Shayna thrust aside her relief that it wasn’t Dante’s baby and nodded, remembering her editor, agent, and readers clamoring for the next book when she could barely muster the will to get out of bed. “I completely understand.”

  “I know,” Collette said flatly. “That’s why I told you.”

  “Okay.” Shayna’s mind continued to spin in confusion. Sure, she understood the pain of losing a child, but so did other women—likely even women who weren’t complete strangers, especially one who wasn’t involved with Collette’s ex-husband. “But why did you tell me? I mean, as far as I’ve heard, nobody knows.”

  Not even Dante.

  “Because you went through something even worse.” Collette met Shayna’s gaze, her lower lip trembling. “I lost mine when I was three months along. I can’t imagine how awful it would be to carry my baby full-term, give birth, get to hold him and feed him and tuck him in at night, only to wake up one morning and find him dead in his crib.”

  Shayna closed her eyes, drowning in memories. She barely heard Collette’s next words.

  “Yet somehow I hear you got back to your writing. I read online that your next book comes out in eight months.” Her voice broke, and the pop star took a shuddering breath. “How did you do it?”

  It was more of a demand than a question, and Shayna looked up. “Do what?”

  “How did you get back to writing?” Collette leaned forward until Shayna could see the fine granules of her face powder. “How did you not have a breakdown and give up?”

  “Actually, I did, but I don’t want to go into those details.”

  Collette sighed and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief that had materialized from her designer handbag. “I understand. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve done. But…you’re back to writing now. How did you make it past the grief? I want to get back into music and, well, I’ll take any advice I can get.”

  Shayna nodded, please. So this was what Collette had been talking with Dante about. And that was probably why she’d agreed to do this performance for free, too. Relief filled her that Collette wasn’t trying to hook back up with Dante, quickly followed by guilt for suspecting something so petty.

  She smiled at the singer. “I actually didn’t do anything. Dante did.”

  Collette snorted. “What, did he make you? He thinks he can ride out of the sunset and save the day by bossing people around. Like he’s some kind of white knight or something.”

  Shayna giggled despite herself. Yes, Dante could be bossy, but he had saved her in more ways than one. “I actually kind of like that about him. The knight part. Not so much his bossiness—though sometimes that helps too. After all, I did get back on track with my writing.” A smile tugged at her lips. “My next book hero is a minstrel knight.”

  The singer burst out laughing. “That figures. Maybe there’s hope for you being able to handle him. I sure couldn’t. All of his causes got tiring.”

  “Did you ever discuss babies when you two were married?” Shayna blurted.

  Wait. What had possessed her to ask that? Surely she wasn’t considering… Her cheeks flamed.

  Collette shook her head. “With his workaholic tendencies and constant obsession with furthering our careers? I didn’t dare think about it. Plus, we barely even spoke after the first six months of our marriage. Our tour schedules didn’t line up, and when he was home, he was always working. I got lonely. Michael was there for me, though.” Bitterness crept into her voice. “At least back then.”

  “Dante blames himself for your marriage not working out,” Shayna said quietly.

  “As well he should,” Collette replied, matter of fact. “But that’s all water under the bridge. He can make it up if he can get an agent to speak to me. And thank you for talking with me.”

  “You’re welcome, though I’m not sure I was very helpful. The only advice I have is that if you really love doing something you n
eed to force yourself to get started again. That’s the hardest part. It gets easier when you get your groove back.” Shayna looked down at the floor. “And maybe you can, um, channel your pain through your music? It worked for my writing anyway.”

  She’d decided to make her heroine a wealthy widow who’d lost both her previous marriage and child due to an illness.

  “Yes, I’d thought of that,” Collette said. “When I first started out, other people wrote my songs. But Dante started to teach me how to write my own, and I think I can do it. I have an idea…”

  Tremulous excitement reverberated from the pop star, and Shayna couldn’t help but be happy for her. She herself knew that feeling whenever she came up with a book plot or a perfectly matched hero and heroine.

  “I’m sure you can,” she said. “Your talent hasn’t vanished.”

  She met Collette’s gaze and found herself amazed. She’d wanted to hate Dante’s ex-wife. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work? Instead, all she felt was compassionate understanding and a genuine hope for the woman to succeed.

  Collette stood. “I’m glad I had the chance to speak with you. Now we’d best head back to the party. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dante’s looking for you. The man watches you like a hawk. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

  A warm thrill went through Shayna at that. Could she and Dante actually have something permanent together? Or would his attention dwindle away?

  Shayna shook off the thoughts. She was being stupid. She’d only been with Dante for a month. She was supposed to be just a “project” to him. Just because they were now having a fling didn’t mean it could lead into anything serious. It really didn’t.

  Yet, part of her couldn’t help but long for more.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When he was done congratulating the couple, Dante searched the room for Shayna. Her absence from his side was a palpable thing, making his chest writhe with some unidentifiable feeling—the need to see her again.

  Protective concern also welled up within his gut. He’d seen how shy and uncomfortable she looked among strangers. At least she’d warmed up with Kinley, Kat, and the others. Still, it must be wretchedly uncomfortable for her to be in the presence of his ex-wife. Dante hadn’t missed Shayna’s intimidated glances at Collette. He prayed she didn’t think that he had any interest in reconciling.

  As if conjured by the thought, Shayna emerged down the stairs—with Collette behind her. Dante blinked in surprise. What had they been talking about? His brows drew together. If Collette had been trying to intimidate Shayna or play catty games with her, he’d…

  Collette gave him an unreadable smile before strolling past to speak with the bride and groom.

  “What was that about?” he asked Shayna, trying not to sound too worried.

  She gave him a vaguely guilty look before she shrugged. “Just girl-talk.”

  She didn’t look like Collette had intimidated her, but a pensive line formed between her eyebrows. He wanted to press further, but then it came time to toss the bouquet.

  True to their word, everyone acted determined for Kat to catch the bouquet. The women batted the bouquet towards her like a wacky game of badminton, and Dante grinned as he watched Shayna almost fall over laughing.

  Kat got her revenge for being singled out, though. When Quinn tossed the garter, the men dove away from it like it was a live grenade, leaving Klement alone on the floor. But he just picked it up with a grin, strode across the room, and gave Kat a big kiss.

  They all headed outside for the wedding photos. Shayna stuck close to Dante’s side, smiling as the photographers crowded around Kinley and Quinn, directing them in various poses. Collette appeared on his other side with a wistful smile.

  Suddenly, more photographers strode onto the manicured lawn. Far more than usual for a normal wedding. They snapped a few shots of the bride and groom before turning to take pictures of…Dante and Collette. Dante’s gaze whipped over to his ex-wife in disgust as he saw the press badges.

  “Oh shit,” he said to her. “How’d the fucking paparazzi find us all the way up here?” He frowned at the lack of surprise on her face. “You tipped them off, didn’t you?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “I thought a little publicity would help me, but I’d given them a later time for the wedding.” Her brows drew together in irritation. “They weren’t supposed to be here so soon.”

  “Oh?” Dante snapped. “Which time zone did you use?”

  Inviting the press to her first public appearance in over a year was a good strategy, he reluctantly admitted. However, it was also rude and inconsiderate to the bride and groom, and Dante’s frown deepened as he felt Shayna trembling next to him. It didn’t surprise him that she’d be intimidated by the press. Authors were known to be introverts.

  Honestly, he didn’t care for the media attention either. Not anymore. That was part of the reason he’d gradually begun avoiding going out with Collette when they were married. She attracted cameras like flies to honey.

  Collette beamed at the press as their cameras fired off like machine guns. He heard Shayna suck in a breath, and he forced a smile so fake it hurt his jaw.

  “You do realize they’re now going to speculate that we’re back together, right?” he asked his ex.

  Shayna cringed.

  “Oh,” Collette said, completely unrepentant. “I hadn’t considered that.”

  Dante growled through his smile, “Damn it, Collette.”

  “Shake my hand,” Collette hissed under her breath.

  Dante’s feigned cheer faltered. He blinked at her in confusion. “What?”

  She beamed serenely at the cameras as she spoke through glistening white teeth. “Lovers don’t give each other handshakes.”

  Understanding dawned, and Dante took her hand and pumped it once like they’d just made a business deal. The cameras flashed.

  “Good,” Collette said coolly. “Now give Shayna a big kiss.”

  She was a genius.

  He turned to Shayna and whispered, “Is that all right with you?”

  Her eyes were large and scared, and camera flashes reflected in her pupils like lightning bolts, yet still she nodded. So Dante gently pulled Shayna into his arms and squeezed her tight before claiming her lips in a devouring kiss. She trembled, and a low moan vibrated in her throat. Despite the posturing, desire roared through his body.

  The cameras continued going off while the reporters began shouting questions. Dante dragged his mouth from Shayna’s, his mind struggling to form some professional response.

  “Collette!” a voice rang out. “Is it true that you’re poised for a comeback?”

  Collette gave them a mysterious smile that rivaled the Mona Lisa’s. “I only came to do Dante’s and my song for Quinn Mayne and Kinley Black’s wedding, but we’ll see what the future holds. It felt so wonderful to perform again. It made me think of all the fans I abandoned. I miss them.”

  “Dante!” another reporter shouted. “Who’s the mystery woman?”

  Before he could answer, Collette did. “That’s Shayna Gray, the romance author!” she told them cheerfully. “Don’t they look darling together?”

  The reporters turned on Shayna. She shrank away, trying to hide behind Dante, and he held her tight, every instinct dedicated to protecting her. His words were clipped with the effort not to roar at the invasive reporters. “She’s not used to you guys. Could you please back off?”

  To hell with the reception dinner. He would get them the hell out of there. Quinn and Kinley would understand.

  Gripping Shayna’s hand, he led her toward their waiting limo. He gave Quinn an apologetic look. As expected, his friend nodded knowingly.

  “Have you read her books, Mr. Deity?” one of the reporters asked, shoving his microphone forward as they tried to move past.

  “I have. They’re very good.” He knew he would come under fire for admitting to reading romance novels, but it was better him than Shayna. Besides, he’d
quit giving a damn what people thought of him a long time ago.

  The two of them reached the car, and the driver opened the door, ushering a grateful Shayna into the backseat. Dante followed.

  Shayna’s face was still bloodless as the limo drove away. She whispered, “Oh, my God, that was awful! How do you guys stand that?”

  You’ll have to learn to stand it if you’re going to stay with me, Dante worried silently. And I want you to stay.

  Aloud he said, “It’s not so bad. It’s the actors and pop stars like Collette who really get harassed.” He squeezed her hand and changed the subject. “Well, since we missed the wedding dinner, would you like to check out the other White House?”

  Shayna nodded and gave him a forced smile. “That sounds great.”

  It was. The darkly-lit, eccentrically decorated Mediterranean restaurant seemed to have a calming effect on her. Her lips quirked at the intentionally crooked pictures on the cream-colored walls, and she even laughed when the servers passed out flashlights so they could read the menu because the owner insisted on dimming the lights and dancing around the tables. Only one group of fans approached, and they were just two wealthy couples on a double date. One of the men, in an Armani suit, and who, despite his long black hair did not seem to be much of a metal-head, offered with a mild Scottish accent to pay for their dinner as his wife stared at Dante with hero worship in her deep purple eyes. Dante hesitated, only to have the other man protest with an even thicker Romanian accent while his red-haired wife gave Dante a sympathetic smile. After Dante signed two autographs—one made out to an Akasha, the other to Razvan—he and Shayna were left in peace.