"You're only in this for my body?" I tease.
Her laugh breaks up all the tension in her expression. Her shoulders soften. A smile spreads over her cheeks. Those brown eyes of hers look so good filled with any kind of pleasure.
Her blush deepens. "I've never had sex like that before."
Despite everything, pride bursts through my chest. Memories of Bella groaning my name and sinking her nails into my back threaten to consume all my attention.
I force myself to focus on my coffee.
"I think… we should get on the same page. I… I like you, Joel." She presses her lips together. Her eyes meet mine. She stares at me like she's studying me. I must not be hiding my frustration well, because she's looking at me with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, Joel. But I don't think I can really stay married to someone I met last night."
She's staring at me, waiting for a response.
I clear my throat. "Let me call my lawyer."
The word makes her cringe.
Huh.
Dealing with lawyers is never fun, but the way she's cringing is a lot more than I hate paperwork.
I grab my cell. "Give me a minute."
"Sure." She offers a weak smile then goes back to staring at her tea.
I push up from the table and move into the other room.
This isn't the biggest suite, but it has a killer view of Las Vegas Boulevard. The Strip isn't nearly as ostentatious this time of day. Sunlight drowns out the flashing neon.
I pull out my cell and call my lawyer.
The receptionist picks up. "Lux and Lawrence, this is Riley speaking."
"Hey. It's Joel—"
"Mr. Young, it's so nice to hear from you! I saw your story on TMZ. Oh my God, that tattoo of her name—so sweet."
Shit. I almost forgot about that.
"Mr. Lux would kill me if he knew I was saying this, but tell me you aren't calling about ending your marriage."
I clear my throat. "I won't tell you."
She sighs. "That's a shame. You two looked adorable. And here I thought I could believe in fairy-tales again."
I give her a minute to opine on the tragedy of my marriage ending. It's kind of nice someone else feels like it's a marriage worth saving.
Bella was on board last night. She was the one insisting. But now…
She doesn't want to stay married.
I do.
This isn't one of those times where we can compromise—divorce is either/or. Either we stay married or we get divorced. There's no half and half.
She wanted this last night.
Demanded it.
There must be a way to get her to remember.
To get her to realize she wants this in the sober light of morning.
I need more time.
Not just to convince her.
But to figure out if my instincts are right.
"Mr. Lux is on vacation. I can refer you to someone else. Either you'll petition for annulment—"
"What's that?"
"It's a way of erasing the marriage. Legally, it will never have happened. California doesn't like to grant annulments. You'll have to admit or prove force or lack of sound mind." She clears her throat. "I'm sure you know your limits, Mr. Young, but people do get drunk and get married in Vegas. If either one of you was drunk, you could argue that you weren't of sound mind. You'd have to admit it in open court."
I clear my throat. "No."
"The paperwork is simple. It's the negotiating that gets tricky. I can get Mr. Lux on it as soon as he returns. But if you want to take care of it right away—"
Shit.
That's it.
This buys me the time I need.
"When will he be back?" I ask.
"In about a week. I know that's a while when you're—"
"No. It's fine. I want him." That is true. Maybe it's stupid asking my entertainment lawyer to handle my divorce, but I trust the guy.
"Great. I'll send you a confirmation email for the morning after Mr. Lux returns. Ideally, your wife should attend, but we can do it via conference call or we can have her lawyer attend on her behalf."
"I'll let her know. Thanks."
"I'll email you the details." She lets out a soft sigh. "Good luck."
I hang up the phone.
I have a week to make sure this is what I want.
And to change her mind.
I can do that.
In the bedroom, Bella is staring at her cell phone. She looks up at me. "You got a tattoo of my name?"
I nod. "You don't remember?"
She shakes her head. "Did I…?"
"You were too scared."
"Oh." Her brow relaxes, but there's something in her eyes. Almost like she's disappointed.
Might as well show her the evidence. I pull my jeans and boxers over my hip. I took my bandage off last night, when I cleaned up post-sex.
My skin is still red, but there's no doubting the design—Bella in thick, black letters—is visible.
Her eyes go wide. "That's huge."
I have to chuckle.
"I mean. You were, ahem, also, when we… and, uh… that's a massive tattoo." She's as red as a tomato. "Does it hurt?"
I shake my head.
She reaches for my skin. "Can I?"
"Yeah."
Her fingertips graze my skin. The softness of her touch sends desire to every inch of my body.
But there's affection in it too.
She does care about me.
Even if she doesn't remember.
She looks up at me. Her lips curl into the world's tiniest smile.
Damn, even with the sting of her forgetting, that smile does things to me.
My fingers curl around her wrist. My voice is more desperate than I want it to be. "If you keep touching me like that, I'm going to throw you on the bed and make you come."
Somehow, she gets even more red. "Oh. Sorry."
"Don't be."
She pulls her hand back to her lap, but her gaze stays on my hip.
I leave my jeans half undone. "My lawyer isn't in the office for a while. It will be a week before we can get an appointment."
"Oh."
"I'm sure he'd get it done faster if I asked, but the guy's on vacation, and it's almost Christmas—"
"I don't want to be another asshole client." She swallows hard. "I can wait."
"The paparazzi stuff will blow over soon. You're welcome to stay in this suite until it does." I study her expression. This is what she wants. I just have to frame it right. "Or I can send you back to New York, first class."
Dread creeps into her expression. "I don't know about that…"
She didn't say much about her life, but I got the sense that she's not really happy with her family. Even if all I know about them is that they live in Manhattan.
She doesn’t want to be there.
She doesn't want to be here.
I'm not sure she wants to spend the week with me. But, hey, she does like me. Deep down, a part of her wants this.
"We have a week. Come to Los Angeles with me. We can have fun while we wait."
"Fun or fun?"
I keep my voice playful. "That's up to you."
"Will there be paparazzi?"
"My apartment is in Venice Beach. There's no press there. And I know where to go to avoid that shit." I drop my voice to something low and seductive. "Of course, there's plenty to do in my apartment."
She blushes. "I'll think about it."
No, she'll talk herself out of it. She needs a push. And I have just the thing ready. "I have a limo reserved to take us back to L.A. I'm going to leave after lunch." I push myself to my feet and take a step towards the bathroom. "It's up to you Bella."
Desire spreads over her face as she watches me make my way to the bathroom.
I strip, wash, put A+D Ointment on my new ink.
This is a cheap move, but I don't care. I need a yes here.
I wrap a towel around my hips and make my
way to the main room.
Bella looks up from her cell. Her jaw drops halfway to the floor. She barely manages to pull it up.
She barely manages to look me in the eyes. "I thought about it."
"And?"
"I must be out of my mind."
Say it, Bella…
She stares into my eyes. "I want to go with you."
6
Joel
A few hours later, I'm standing in front of Bella's hotel room. I knock on her door.
She answers right away.
She's ready with her suitcase zipped, her hair in that same tight bun, her makeup and outfit as perfect as it was this morning.
Her expression is still hesitant.
"Do anything fun?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "Just reading."
"Anything good?"
"You'll laugh."
"Try me."
"Harry Potter."
"I made you come ten minutes after you told me you loved Harry Potter. Why would I laugh now?"
She blushes. "I guess that's a good point. But I… I really should read some more new stuff instead of rereading."
"Does re-reading it make you happy?"
"It's comforting."
"Then who cares?"
"A lot of people. You have any idea how many editorials there are about adult YA readers needing to grow up?”
"No, but that sounds like a bunch of pretentious shit."
Her lips press together.
"I do get it. You should hear the shit I get from some of my friends about how they make real music and not that pop-rock crap that gets radio play. But I want to make music that's popular enough that I can play to big fucking rooms of screaming fans. If I have to tone it down on a few singles, I can do that."
"Is that what you love about music, playing live?"
I nod. "Yeah, there's an energy to it. It's not like anything else in the world."
"What about the collaboration."
"That's more challenging."
"You're too stubborn to compromise?"
I laugh. "Hey, what about this I'm okay with making our singles more pop thing?"
"True. But that's still what you want."
She's right. It is what I want. Ethan, our guitarist, is a perfectionist who cares about the song being perfect. If it's not perfect, then he doesn't care if it's popular.
Kit has a love/hate relationship with performing, but he's not as big on composing.
Mal… well, this is the only time we agree. "Mal wants it."
"Malcolm Strong. The singer." She blushes. "I looked you up."
"Smart."
"It felt unfair. I know all this stuff about you, about your life, and you don't know that much about me."
"Most of that stuff is bullshit. If anything you're behind."
She raises a brow. "You don't enjoy drinking a lot and having one-night stands?"
"Fair. But." I motion to my left hand. "I think I'm off one-night stands for a while."
"Oh." She bites her lip. "I don't want to crimp your style."
"Bella, look at me."
She does.
"I didn't invite you to my place so I could go out and fuck other women."
"But, what if I don't… what if I don't want to."
Damn, she must have a real asshole of an ex-boyfriend. Or parents with a fucked up relationship. Does she really think guys are like that?
Or just me?
"You don't owe me shit." I take her suitcase with one hand and offer her the other. "I like you. I want to have fun. If that's sex, fucking great. If not, that's fine."
"Okay." Her brow relaxes.
But not enough.
I need to ease that tension.
I take her hand and lead her down the hall. "I'm surprised you get any shit about Harry Potter. That's a fucking great series. The way everybody is always riding around on wood."
She laughs. "On brooms?"
"It's all about the power of riding wood."
"Someone should inform J. K. Rowling."
"And the wands? Don't get me started—"
She laughs.
That's better.
I lead her through the casino then to the parking lot.
Thankfully, no one is gawking. No one is here, really.
Even so, Bella's shoulders tense as we cut through the parking lot and climb into the limo.
She lets out a long exhale as the driver closes the limo door.
Now, it's just us in this den of dim lighting and white leather. This is a seriously 80s limo.
Her eyes go to the minibar. "Is there any water in there?"
I check. It's mostly tiny bottles of liquor and cans of soda, but there is water buried at the bottom. I pull out two bottles and hand one to her.
She's still stiff. Frustrated.
I take a seat on the bench perpendicular to hers.
Damn, she really is beautiful. But it's not just her pretty eyes, her soft lips, and her lush tits. There's something about her.
Her eyes go to the window. "You mind if we stop at the next restroom?"
"Sure." I nod to the button for the divider window. "You can order the driver around too." I roll the window down and nod hello to the driver. "Can we get off at the next rest stop?"
"Of course, Mr. Young," he says.
"You're making me feel old," I say.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't feel comfortable calling you Joel," he says.
"How about Your Highness?" I offer.
He chuckles. "I'll consider that, Mr. Young."
I roll the divider up and look back to Bella. Again, she's smiling.
"You're ridiculous. You know that?" she asks.
I'm well aware of that.
Bella practically runs out of the limo. I guess I'll assume she has to pee. I drank enough coffee to feel the same.
After I wash up in the bathroom, I find a seat on one of the rest stop's benches. This would be a cute place for a picnic if it wasn't a spot for people to piss on the way home from Vegas.
My phone buzzes with a new text from Kit.
Kit: You're fucking with me. You did not get married.
I take a photo of my left hand and send it to him. I'm well known for fucking with people, especially with Kit. The bassist has been my best friend since we were kids. Hell, the only reason why he plays the bass at all is that I persuaded him to join me in the rhythm section.
If he'd been into soccer or chess or something, there would not be a Dangerous Noise.
We've been through a lot of shit together. I trust him. I trust him more than I trust anyone. Even so, I'm not sure if he's asking this to test me or because he's curious.
Kit: What's her name?
Joel: Bella Chase.
Kit: Sounds like a fake name.
Joel: I know shit about her. She's from New York. She's smart. And uptight. She loves to read. And she's pretty. Long, dark hair. These brown eyes with flecks of honey. Huge tits.
Kit: That's your wife.
Joel: My wife has nice tits.
Kit: I can tell you really respect her.
Joel: Oh, and you never say Piper has nice tits?
Kit: Point taken.
Joel: I'm trying not to steal your thunder here.
"Hi, um, are you… are you really Joel Young?" A voice asks. It's young, male.
I look up. A teenage boy is staring at me with adoration. Between his tattered jeans, his messy hair, and his leather jacket, he's rocking the wannabe punk vibe.
I nod. "That's me."
His eyes go wide. "I'm a drummer too. Well, not like you, but one day… that song Love or Lie is legendary. This is so cool."
I can't help but smile. It's one thing when someone likes our music. It's another when someone actually models his life after mine. I never get used to the pride. And the responsibility. "What's your name?"
"E… Er… Eric." He pulls out his cell phone. "Shoot, I don't have any CDs, but do you think you could sign this?"
He looks to the parking lot, scanning every auto there.
"It's the limo," I tease.
"Right. Of course." His smile is doofy.
I like this kid. He didn't even think to look at the limo. Status doesn't matter to him. Money doesn't matter to him.
Music is what matters.
Sure, he's twelve or maybe thirteen. He has plenty of time to get hung up on status. But it's still good to see someone who plays for the love of it.
I push myself to my feet. My eyes catch Bella's. She's making her way back to the limo. Her long hair is still tied up in that tight bun, but she's no longer wearing a sweater over her button up shirt. And fuck do those buttons not get along with her tits. The top three are undone, and the next two are struggling.
I don't care what anybody says about marriage and respect. My wife has fantastic tits. I'll shout it from the fucking mountaintops if I get the chance.
But I shouldn't stare. I need to inspire this kid. He looks up to me. And that's a fucking responsibility. I'm not going to squander it the way my dad does.
I put my arm around his shoulder to lead him to the limo. He lights up like a pinball machine, babbling about his favorite Dangerous Noise songs.
Bella leans against the limo door, watching us closely.
The driver is standing on the other side of the door. I make the signature motion. He reaches into the car, grabs a marker, and tosses it to me.
I catch. I don't always catch.
Eric's eyes go wide. "Wow. You're like… like an even cooler Dave Grohl." He hands over his phone.
I sign the back Eric, Keep playing - Joel Young and hand the cell to him.
His eyes nearly burst out of his skull. He throws his arms around me and hugs tightly. He doesn't let go until an older woman, his mom I guess, calls his name.
Bella's lips curl into a smile. "You made his day."
"Just being polite."
"Did it bother you?"
I shrug.
"You probably shouldn't travel in a limo if it bothers you. That's like screaming look at me."
I motion to my face. "People look at me no matter what. It's the curse of beauty."
She laughs.
I pull my t-shirt up my stomach to show off my taut abs. "This doesn't help."
"No, stripping in public would not help deflect attention."
This time, I laugh.
"I'm surprised you've had this much attention." Her eyes light up as her smile widens. "Your band isn't really that big."
Dangerous Rock: A Rock Star Romance (Dangerous Noise Book 3) Page 4