Rock God (Hearts of Metal Book 3)

by Ann,Brooklyn

  Dante’s wicked smile returned. “We can do that later—before we try out that waterfall shower. And I have some ideas about the bathroom in my master bedroom back home.”

  After his impassioned words and passionate lovemaking, Shayna finally dared to speak of their future. “You’re going to love the huckleberry shakes tomorrow. We’ll have to ask Kat where they are in this area, so if we ever come back I can take you huckleberry picking. Or if we ever go to Montana, I’ll show you where I used to go.”

  “I think I would like that.”

  He kissed her forehead, and Shayna’s heart soared with hope. Maybe her fantasized courtship was coming true after all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Two months later, Dante reached out with one hand to open the curtain of his office window while he held the phone with the other. His relationship with Shayna had just passed into more serious territory, though she didn’t know it yet.

  He had just told his father about her.

  “You’d really like her, Dad,” he finished, watching Shayna lounging beside the pool with a book in her hand. His eyes devoured her curves, again accented by that blue bathing suit. He felt a twinge of regret that summer was ending.

  “Good, so when’s the wedding going to be?”

  Patrick’s gruff voice was teasing, and Dante rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Dad, we’ve only known each other for three months.”

  His father laughed. “I only knew your mother for a week before I knew she was the one.”

  A dull pang of wistful grief washed over Dante. His mother had been dead for almost two years, but he still missed her every day. He just tried not to fixate on it. “Times were different then.”

  “Well, you’d better not take too long to figure things out. Neither of us are getting any younger, and I’m still holding out hope for a grandkid or two.” Before Dante could argue, his father continued, “Anyhow, I’d best get going. Joe’s gonna be here any minute to watch the game. Nice talking to you, son. I’m proud of you, and I look forward to hearing your next album.”

  Dante sighed and hung up the phone. That was his dad all right: terse and to the point. And he had a valid point. These months with Shayna had been the happiest Dante had ever had. Their days formed a blissful perfection now as if they’d been together forever, and their nights were just as intense—as if it were always their first time in bed.

  His eyes roved over her again, an appreciative smile curving his lips she stretched. She had started off as a project to him, and in some ways she still was one. So far it was a successful endeavor. After returning from the wedding, Shayna had finished her manuscript a month before deadline, signed with an agent and gotten an impressive advance from her publisher for a new series. Dante was so proud of her he could burst.

  And the last was an excellent book, too. Possibly her best. He’d cajoled her into letting him read her final draft, and he had finished it one sitting. He was even able to help her with some esoteric historical details. But the tale of the sword-wielding nobleman-cum-minstrel had stuck in Dante’s mind like very few other books ever had.

  He watched Shayna set her book down and frowned as that distant look of sadness marred her beautiful face. She wasn’t out of the woods yet, he realized, although she’d made definite progress in recovering from her grief. Dante smiled as he remembered the joy in her eyes when she’d taken her divorce decree to the Social Security office to change her name back to Gray, and then went to her bank to change her name on her account and get new checks. But she’d waved off his offer to take her to get a California driver’s license.

  With a sigh, he reminded himself to be patient. These things took time. With all she’d been through, he couldn’t expect her to fully commit to settling down with him, especially not after such a short period of time. Hell, she still had nightmares sometimes. Dante ached whenever he heard those agonized whimpers, though he was relieved to be there to hold her.

  Outside, Shayna was staring off into space with that melancholy frown on her lips. She’d been doing that a lot lately, though she’d been trying to hide it from him. Dante’s fists clenched impotently at his sides, because he hated seeing her in pain. Was this love then? He supposed it was.

  Letting the curtain drop, he paced across the floor of his office, overcome with anxious frustration. The recent honeymoon period was quickly drawing to a close. No matter how much he wished their blissful peace could remain, reality would soon intrude. For one thing, his usual antsy urge to be back on the road was creeping in, killing his appetite and making sleep difficult. The songs for his new album were all written, and the band would be heading into the recording studio next week. Dante was always on edge at these times, and now the feeling was worse than usual.

  Work. His devotion to his craft and his fans. Because of that, none of his relationships had ever worked out. Part of it had been mistrust and jealousy about groupies on the road, but most of the problems surfaced when he was recording an album. The women always felt neglected. And though he couldn’t blame them, there was nothing he could do about it. The work always came first. It had to.

  Would Shayna understand? He’d found himself hoping. He prayed she would understand why he was anxious to get back into the studio and onto the road. It had nothing to do with her. He truly got itchy if he stayed at home too long and away from the music. Would she be able to handle being alone for this first challenge, the week or three that it would take for him and the band to record their project?

  He hoped so. At least she had her writing to occupy her. But what would happen when he came back and then went on the road? Some of his tours lasted as long as eighteen months.

  Actually, to his surprise, his concern was not so much with whether she could take such a long separation, but whether or not he could.

  You could take her with you, a voice whispered, and Dante nodded, conceding the possibility. After all, she could write on the road.

  But would that be fair to her? another voice asked. Could he expect Shayna to deal with the rough company of the musicians and roadies, sleep in the often less than glamorous accommodations—often the cramped tour bus—and deal with the constant noise and flashing cameras? Because he loved her, he didn’t want to make her unhappy.

  The sound of the sliding glass door pulled him from his thoughts. He heard Shayna walk to the kitchen to start dinner, and Dante sighed. Those practicalities just didn’t reduce his wanting to take her with him.

  Maybe he should just present it like it was a done deal.

  ***

  Shayna watched Dante toy with the pasta on his plate. He’d only eaten half of his dinner again. Had she suddenly become a bad cook? Rosa had ceded the duty to her two nights a week after Dante promised that there’d be no reduction in pay. In fact, the housekeeper had smiled. And of course Shayna cooked on the weekends when the Rosa was off.

  “Did I put too much garlic in the sauce?” she asked, hoping her worry wasn’t too pronounced.

  He shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. “No, it’s delicious. I’m just not very hungry when I have work on my mind.”

  Shayna managed a sympathetic nod and poured him some more wine. It probably was just the work. He’d been distant and fidgety for the past week. God knew she felt on edge and out of her skin when her writing got especially intense, but still, she couldn’t help but worry that there was something else.

  The conversation she’d had with her mother that morning echoed in her mind, and she tried to drown it out with more wine. After the usual guilt-injecting remonstrations for not calling more often, her mother had said plainly, “I saw you on TV over two months ago kissing some rock star. Is that the ‘friend’ you’re staying with?”

  “It is,” Shayna had said firmly, though her grip on the receiver trembled. She should have just sucked it up and called last month and gotten this over with, but she hadn’t wanted anything to intrude on her happiness.

  “Why didn’t you tell me in the first place,
Shayna?” The hurt accusation in her mother’s voice was plain as a stab to the heart. “Why did I have to learn on a gossip show that my daughter is shacking up with a big-shot rock star? And you’re only now telling me?”

  “He doesn’t act like a big-shot, Mom, he’s very nice.” A pleading little girl voice had crept into her tone, and Shayna hated it. Gathering her breath, she’d told her mother all about Dante’s rescuing her and getting her to write again. And had then brought up her recent success.

  Janet Gray was merciless as ever. “You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”

  Shayna had sighed. “Yes, Mom, I am.”

  Her mother had then launched into an acerbic monologue full of contradicting and ever cynical witticisms: “Isn’t he a little old for you?” “Why should he buy the cow when he’s getting the milk for free?” “Well, that type isn’t usually the marrying kind, and even if they are, it’s never permanent. I mean, look at how many times Paul McCartney has been married!”

  The urge to slam down the phone had grown stronger each second, but she’d fought back. “We’ve only been involved a little over three months. It’s a bit early to be thinking of marriage,” she’d claimed. Though she’d had to fight the little pitter-patter of her heart at the word.

  “I know, dear. I just worry about you.” Her mother sighed. “You’re not getting any younger, after all. And what are you going to do when he goes back to doing his concerts? Are you going to stay at his house and wait while tramps from every city paw at him backstage?”

  Those words had hit her like a bucket of ice water, dousing every vestige of her good mood. She’d struggled to remember why she even called in the first place.

  “Shayna? Shayna, are you there?”

  “I got a six-figure advance on my latest book,” she’d announced when she remembered. Her voice was cold, emotionless, as if she were describing a sale on toilet paper. “I received the contract and signing payment today.”

  “Oh, dear, that’s wonderful!” Her mother’s enthusiasm had remained for a nanosecond before… “You’re not sharing it with him, are you? All that money—”

  “No, it’s going in the bank.” Shayna didn’t bother explaining yet again the process of installments, taxes, or her new agent’s cut. The conversation had soured enough to ruin her entire week and reinforce her policy of calling her mother as rarely as possible. “Anyway, I have to go. Edits, you know.”

  “Wait, Shayna. I almost forgot to tell you.” And, here, Janet had delivered a final unsettling blow. “Shawn called. About a month ago. He wants to know your new address.”

  A mixture of cold dread and squirming disgust had washed over Shayna like a bucket of scummy pond water was dumped on her head. Shawn had been emailing her almost every day for the last month and a half, actually. She’d been deleting the messages, taking bitter joy as they disappeared unread.

  She’d sighed. “It’s none of his business, Mom. No part of my ever will be again.”

  “But maybe he wants to reconcile,” her mother said, her voice wheedling. “He’ll be more likely to stick with you than some rock god. Marriages aren’t always easy, and people make mistakes, especially during hard times. Maybe with what happened to the baby…well, maybe it was Shawn’s way of…” She’d sniffled, unable to finish the sentence, and it was the first time Shayna had felt shared emotion between them. But her next words put everything back to normal. “I think you’re old enough for me to tell you that your father wasn’t always faithful. No man can be faithful. And—”

  “I really have to go now. Goodbye, Mom.”

  Somehow she’d kept her voice level, and completely sapped of energy she’d hung up. Minutes before the call she’d been full of joy at freedom from Shawn, her new success with her novels, and how she felt alive again in Dante’s arms. After the conversation, all was ashes.

  Your father wasn’t always faithful…

  Shayna futilely put her hands over her ears. She felt sludgy, and now there was radioactive poison mixed with the sludge.

  She sipped her wine and regarded Dante with growing worry across the table, her mother’s words continuing to seep in like venom. He’s losing interest already, that bitter voice taunted. He’s just trying to find a nice way to tell you to leave.

  The phone rang, and for a panicked moment Shayna thought it was her mother calling back. Her mouth opened to beg Dante not to answer, but no sound came.

  “Ash!” Dante said with more cheer than she’d heard from him in weeks. “How are you?”

  She sighed in relief even as she wondered who Ash was. Stupid, really. Mom wouldn’t waste the money on a long distance call.

  “That’s great!” Dante’s voice practically trembled with excitement. “I just have to call the guys, but for now count us in.

  “Well,” he said when he hung up. “It seems we’re going on the road sooner than I expected.”

  His eyes met hers, suddenly expectant, and a needle of panic dug into Shayna’s spine. What did this mean for her? What did it mean for their relationship? She tried to keep her voice calm and mildly curious.

  “Oh?”

  “You ever heard of the band Niteblade?” When she shook her head, Dante continued. “I’ve been working on organizing a charity tour. There’ve been a few setbacks, but it looks like it’s finally going to happen. It’s going to be called ‘Metal Feed,’ and half the proceeds will go to food banks and homeless shelters across the nation. And Niteblade has joined the roster! It’s going to be an amazing show!”

  “That’s wonderful!” Shayna said, meaning it with all her heart. The more she learned about the heavy metal subculture, the more she discovered that most involved were the kindest people.

  Dante’s eyes were wide with excitement. “It’ll be a pretty small tour, being that it’s only in the western half of the US. But that makes it easier. If everything works out, we could be on the road in as soon as two months.”

  Two months…? He could be leaving her in two months. Less, even, since he was heading to the recording studio the day after tomorrow. A thousand questions burned through her mind, but she didn’t dare ask any of them.

  “Are you okay?” Dante said.

  The concern in his voice helped. Still, she avoided his gaze as she picked up her plate and went to the dishwasher. “I’m fine. I just need to get back to editing this manuscript. Congratulations on your tour.”

  He raised a brow and gave her a stern look. “You can’t fool me. Something’s bothering you. Is it the tour?”

  She couldn’t bring herself to ask the main question on her mind: Are you tiring of me? Instead, she brought up another worry that had plagued her since Coeur d’Alene. “Has your association with me hurt your reputation or career? Has there been any fallout since the wedding?”

  Dante laughed. “No, in fact, I think it’s helped. Going by my website, many of my fans are expecting that dating a romance author has improved my sex life.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I must say that it has—though a gentleman never tells.”

  Warmth filled Shayna, but then he spoke again.

  “Honestly, most of the news is about Collette, like it always was. It seems she’s now being paired on and off with an old flame, Allejandro Garcia, one of those radio-friendly singers. I don’t know whether she’s getting involved with him for the publicity or if she just enjoys having men chase after her…” His lip curled in scorn. “She tried that game with me before, but I would never play. I don’t chase.”

  Shayna nodded. If Dante pursued her, she’d think it was incredibly romantic. The thought gave her a sudden urge to defend Collette. “She quit music because she had a miscarriage last year and was too heartbroken to sing—like me with my writing.”

  Dante’s eyes widened. “Really? I had no idea she even wanted children.” His features softened with sympathy, and then he frowned. “I don’t get why she didn’t just fucking tell me, though. I mean, I know I’m not the easiest guy to deal with, but she should have known she
could trust me. And I wouldn’t have snapped at her like I did if I knew that.” Thousands of unreadable emotions passed across his face, and he rose from the table. “Why are you just telling me now?”

  “I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you at all. Collette didn’t tell you. She only told me because she’d heard about my baby and wanted some advice.” She looked down and fidgeted with her napkin. “I just wanted to defend her, what with you judging her so harshly.”

  “I suppose I did.” He looked chastened. “Damn it, I’d apologize, but since I’m not supposed to know…” He trailed off. “And this makes me feel bad all over again for snapping at you about your writer’s block. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Shayna said softly.

  He rose from the table and kissed her forehead. When she didn’t say anything else, he stared at her. “I gotta get back to work. I have one more song to finish.”

  Shayna blinked at his retreating form, unable to tell if he was mad. She hadn’t wanted to guilt trip him or anything. Was that what had happened?

  She took care of her dishes and headed back to the office, trying to fight off the feeling that she was fleeing Dante and retreating into herself. Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind, however, sounding triumphant.

  “Are you going to sit at his house and wait while tramps from every city paw at him?”

  Shayna shook her head, but then her ex-husband’s voice spoke in her head, low and mocking.

  “He’s tiring of you, Shayna-baby. Just like I did.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dante frowned as he sat in his basement studio. He should have been more tactful with Shayna in his announcement that they were going on the road. Likely he’d scared the hell out of her, saying it so casually. But he’d been so excited that Niteblade was getting onboard.

  He’d decided for sure before he even got off the phone with Ash that there was no way he was leaving her behind. Being away from Shayna for the weeks at the recording studio would be agony as it was, secluded as he always made sure those days were. He was half-tempted to bring his cell phone to the recording this time, but he didn’t want to risk being tempted by calls he’d get other than hers—not to mention the fact that his timeless Do Not Disturb policy at the studio during sessions would be completely undermined if he did. Instead, he reminded himself that his hotel room would have a phone. He’d call her every night and try to wrap up early.