Built to Fall: A Rock Star Romance

by Julia Wolf

  Adam snorted. “He should. He’s been doing this since I was a kid. He’s like fifty, right?”

  “He’s not that old and you know it,” I argued.

  Adam tugged his ear. “Huh? Can’t hear you.”

  I rose on my toes, my mouth beside his ear. “He’s not that old!”

  He turned before I could move away, and his lips grazed mine. It wasn’t a kiss, but from the way he grinned and dragged his tongue over his lips, it might as well have been.

  “You’re so fucking sweet, Claire. Best vibes ever.” He stole my beer from my hand and took a long swig, wriggling his eyebrows over the brim of the cup as he drank.

  Marta reached around him, hitting the bottom of the cup, and Adam sputtered as beer spilled over the sides and down his chin. I braced myself for his anger, but he only laughed and wiped the dripping liquid with the hem of his T-shirt.

  Marta wagged a finger at him. “We don’t steal beer.”

  “Noted, girl, noted.” He chuckled, and I was in awe of his good nature. Derrick would have seethed until we got home, then lectured me about my friend making a fool of him. It took leaving him for me to see how controlling he’d been during our marriage, and I was still getting used to the fact that his behavior wasn’t normal.

  My attention was pulled back to the stage when Dominic stopped mere feet in front of where we stood, hips thrusting forward as he shredded on his guitar. Again, his eyes found mine, but this time, they were full of thunder.

  I raised my arms over my head and moved with him, rolling my hips to the rhythm he set. Adam still held onto me, but I barely felt it. Dominic’s music flowed through me like lava in my veins. He moved on, striding across the stage like it was his very own.

  Marta danced in front of me, hooking her arm around my waist and pulling me against her and away from Adam. We caught the same beat, moving to the heady, intoxicating sound. When she threw her head back, I did too. The crowd went wild for Dominic, and I screamed right along with them.

  By the time the lights went down and Dominic had left the stage, I was sweaty and a little drunk, both on beer and adrenaline. Marta, Adam, and I made our way backstage, flashing our passes to security to bypass lines. At Dominic’s dressing room, we stopped.

  “You coming back to the hotel?” Adam asked.

  “Later. I should probably go in there and check in with the boss man,” I said.

  “Sure thing.” He tugged one of my damp waves. “Hit me up if you’re not quite ready to sleep. I’ll be around.”

  Marta and I watched him amble down the corridor, then she shot me a wicked grin. “That boy is lovestruck.”

  I rolled my eyes. “He isn’t. I barely know him.”

  “Well, he wants to know you. And have your babies. And take your last name.”

  I snorted. “That’s so backwardly heteronormative, Mar. I’m surprised at you.”

  She hung her head. “You’re right. I’m ashamed.”

  Grabbing her hand, I tugged her into the dressing room. Only a few reporters were inside since Dominic had done most of his press earlier. The man himself had his arms crossed, clutching a water bottle in one hand, listening to a pretty woman speak.

  Since it was my job to be there for any interviews, I marched up to the two of them, ready to intervene if needed.

  The pretty woman with the hourglass figure and long, blonde hair, let out a throaty laugh and touched Dominic’s arm. “You have to tell me who you sang ‘Angel Moon’ for, Dom. There were a few thousand jealous women in the audience wishing it was them.”

  His dark eyebrow arched. “Were you one of them, Ariana?”

  She laughed again. “It would be unprofessional of me to say. Let’s just leave it at I’ve never been serenaded before, but I wouldn’t mind it.”

  Marta mimicked the reporter behind her back, scrunching her face and mouthing the words she’d just said. I had to cover my mouth to hold back a giggle. Dominic’s heated gaze landed on us, and it only became more molten.

  “Excuse me. You have my assistant’s number. Call if you need to ask me any further questions.” Dominic pushed off the wall, swerving around Ariana, the pretty reporter, and stopping in front of the two of us. “Are you drunk?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “We’re just having a good time.”

  Marta jerked her thumb at me. “Claire’s beer was stolen, so I know for a fact she isn’t drunk. I’m questionable.”

  “Go home,” he growled. “I won’t need you anymore tonight.”

  She saluted him with two fingers. “All right. Good show tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She held out her hand to me. “Let’s hit it, C.”

  Dominic’s fingers curled around my upper arm. “Claire needs to stay. Her job isn’t over yet.”

  Marta left without argument, and I stuck around to watch Dominic give a few casual interviews and meet a fan or two. He didn’t need me, but I imagined it wasn’t fun to be alone in the middle of all this either.

  On her way out, Ariana stopped by Dominic, raised on her toes to whisper to him, and unmistakably slipped a piece of paper in his tight pocket. She gave him a lingering look before leaving with a swing of her curvy hips. Dominic licked his lips as he watched her go, driving an unwarranted spike of jealousy straight through my chest.

  In the car to the hotel, we sat across from each other, the glowing lights wrapping around the ceiling the only illumination. Shadows swirled over Dominic’s stern face, giving him an even darker, scarier countenance.

  “Does that happen often? Reporters slipping you their number?” I asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “It probably does.”

  He shifted forward, his palms pressed together between his spread knees. “What you’re really wondering is how often I use the number. Right, Claire?”

  My teeth bit into my bottom lip to stop myself from reacting. But nothing could halt the goose bumps rising on my flesh. “I would never ask that, sir.”

  His fingers dug into the sides of his hair, and a deep exhale left his lungs. “Jesus, girl.” He shook his head hard, like he was trying to clear something unspeakable from it. “It happens often, and I take them up on it on occasion. I don’t really like when details of my private life end up on a blog or in a magazine, so reporters aren’t my first choice.”

  “But she was hot,” I pressed, though I wasn’t sure why.

  “She was.”

  That was all he said, and I was relieved. This line of conversation made me feel like I had spiders crawling beneath the surface of my skin.

  In the elevator to our floor, I sucked in a breath and gathered a bit of courage. “Thank you for playing ‘Angel Moon.’ I know it wasn’t for me, but I loved every second of it.”

  He nodded, and when the doors slid open, he stepped through them, holding his hand out to keep them from closing on me. I walked ahead of him, and when I reached my room, he paused beside me while I fumbled for my key.

  “Who did you think I played it for, if not you?” he asked softly as I pushed open my door.

  My head jerked up, meeting his gaze. “I don’t—”

  “I’m glad you loved it, Claire. It made me happy to see you loving it.”

  With those knee-liquifying words, Dominic Cantrell casually walked away like he had not a single care in the world.

  How had this man—who’d made it crystal clear he wanted nothing to do with me outside of our professional relationship—managed to knock me sideways at every turn? And even more importantly, if he had no desire for anything more from me, why did he keep doing it?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Claire

  Dominic didn’t play my song at his second show in New Orleans. I was disappointed, but only slightly. Last night had been special, just for me. Yes, I’d shared it with thousands of other people, but not thousands more tonight.

  Marta and I danced to Dominic’s music again, singing along until my throat burned. Adam joined us late in the show, wrapping me up
in his arms like we were long-lost friends and hadn’t just seen each other backstage an hour before.

  “Party in our suite tonight,” he whisper-shouted into my ear.

  “Is that an invitation?” I asked.

  “It is. Are you accepting?” He grinned excitedly and bounced on his toes.

  “As long as Dominic doesn’t need me, I’ll be there.” I elbowed Marta. “Are you in?”

  She paused her singing. “For what?”

  “Party in our suite,” Adam answered.

  She fist-bumped with him. “Hell yes, my friend. It’s about time you guys use that suite of yours for good and not evil.”

  I gasped. “Have you been committing human sacrifices in there?”

  Adam’s eyes shifted right and left. “I’m innocent, I swear.”

  My attention was pulled away from him when the audience went wild. I went wild too, even though I hadn’t heard what we were cheering for. Dominic made it easy to get caught up in his show, to feel like you were part of it and vital.

  When the concert was over, Marta and I went straight to his dressing room to check in and see if he needed us. Only a few people were milling around, but Dominic was alone in a corner, drinking from a water bottle and keeping watch on the door.

  He stood when he saw us, leaving the bottle behind. “Let’s go.”

  I caught his arm, which was still a little slick with sweat. “Don’t you need to stay and talk to people?”

  “No. I’ve done enough of that.” He sounded pissed off, which seemed impossible given the incredible show he’d just put on.

  Marta and I flanked him as we made our way through the corridor. “Are you tired?” I asked.

  “No.” He rubbed his face with both hands and breathed out a long exhale. “Are you?”

  “Not really.”

  “I’m not tired either. Thanks for asking,” Marta chimed.

  Dominic huffed a short laugh. “If you go out tonight, try not to get too shitfaced. The plane takes off at ten and your ass will get left behind if you’re late.”

  “I’m not going out. Claire and I happen to have been invited to a very elegant soiree in a hotel suite tonight. Try not to be jealous,” Marta deadpanned.

  Dominic said nothing, but I felt his eyes on the side of my face as we continued walking to the car. He didn’t let up on the ride to the hotel, and after a few minutes of allowing him to stare without challenge, I stared back. Neither of us spoke, but tension built in the space between us anyway.

  I had no idea what I’d done to make him angry, but there was no denying he was. I couldn’t say I wasn’t confused by my torrent of feelings for him, but I tried to remain as professional as possible, and he seemed to want to make that difficult.

  By the time we were in the elevator to our floor, I felt like I might go insane if I spent one more second in his presence. The way he looked at me, the low, simmering anger just below his surface, what he wasn’t saying, and what he had said, swirled together in my consciousness. Marta chattered with us both, but I couldn’t concentrate—not with Dominic Cantrell across from me in the too-small moving box, frowning and blazing his eyes along my skin.

  The doors slid open, and I barely refrained from throwing myself through them. Instead, I calmly followed Marta out with Dominic directly behind me.

  “Goodnight, Claire. Marta.” That was all he said before he sauntered away like he hadn’t just engaged me in eye contact warfare for the last twenty minutes.

  Noise, music, and people spilled from the suite at the opposite end of the hall, so it wasn’t hard for Marta and me to find the party. The living area wasn’t filled, but there were lots of bodies milling around.

  “We need drinks,” I said.

  “Absolutely.” Marta clasped my hand, and we wove around the room until we came upon the dining table laden with a surprising array of alcohol.

  “Claire, Marta, you’re here!” Iris hugged us both with equal fervor, which made me a little sad since Marta desired so much more. “Allow me to be the bartender, ladies. What will you have? Actually, let me surprise you with my signature cocktail.”

  She ended up making us a concoction from many bottles, which tasted strong and sweet—a dangerous combination.

  “Yum.” Marta licked her lips after one sip, which made Iris laugh.

  “It’s terrible. You can say it. I’m like the one musician who never worked as a bartender before signing a record deal.” Iris turned her attention to me. “Tell me the truth, Claire.”

  I swallowed more of my drink and hummed. “It will get me drunk fast.”

  Iris pumped her fist. “Hell yes, honey bunny. And really, isn’t that the goal?”

  From behind me, someone slipped a string of beads around my neck. Without checking to see who it was, I said, “I’m not showing you my tits, so you can take your necklace back if you’re expecting it.”

  Adam laughed and hugged me from behind, his arms around my shoulders. “That’s a freebie.” He kissed the side of my head, then leaned down to whisper in my ear. “And did you mean never, or not right now?”

  I couldn’t decide how I wanted to answer. Flirt or laugh him off? If I tried to be sexy, it would undoubtedly come out awkward, but I wasn’t sure I even wanted to be sexy with him.

  So, I tipped my head back, giving him what I hoped was an enigmatic smile, and winked. He grinned back at me, so I must not have looked too ridiculous.

  “Where are my beads?” Marta demanded.

  Adam broke away from me to pull another string of beads from his pocket and place them around her neck. “There you go, princess. I’m the official beadmaster of this shindig.”

  Iris nodded. “I dubbed him that when he came back to the suite with a thousand beads from some tourist trap he stumbled into this afternoon.”

  I gasped. “You have a thousand beads and I got one measly strand?”

  He tapped my nose. “Keep being cute and you might find yourself with two measly strands.”

  “So generous,” I teased.

  As much fun as I was having with Adam, I felt like I was practicing with him. I flexed my dormant flirting skills, basked in his attention, but I still wasn’t sure I wanted this to go further than it already had.

  The four of us hung out, drinking and singing terribly to the music we could barely hear over the din of voices. Iris made another powerful drink for Marta and me, and it went down even smoother than the first.

  The more I drank, the cuter Adam became. I got another two bead necklaces by dancing with Adam and Rodrigo, and a third by taking a shot of something that tasted like Swedish Fish and burned like lava.

  Feeling slightly overheated, I broke away from the group and leaned against a cool, floor-to-ceiling window, my head just the right amount of floaty. Adam followed, bracing his hand on the window beside my head, his fingers toying with the ends of my hair.

  “You’re so pretty when you’re tipsy.” He dipped down, his face slowly closing in on mine. “So pretty,” he murmured.

  At the last second, I giggled and turned my head away. I hadn’t had a first kiss since I was nineteen, and my nerves had gotten the better of me.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to kiss him, it was that I wasn’t ready at the moment.

  That’s what I told myself, anyway.

  “Adam…” I giggled again, but he straightened and pulled back.

  He tugged my hair good-naturedly. “It’s all good. I see someone I need to talk to. I’ll be back.”

  Adam wandered off into the crowd, but I didn’t have time to dwell on possibly hurting his feelings. Rodrigo brought me another shot, and then we got caught up in a rousing game of rock, paper, scissors. We both kept choosing paper, then high-fiving with our paper hands.

  “This game is never gonna end, preciosa.” He sounded excited about that more than anything.

  “What if I do rock next and let you win?” I offered.

  “Nope. I don’t want a pity win.” He bounced on his toes,
his eyes wide and wild. “One more, winner takes all.”

  Neither of us questioned what “all” was. I went for rock this time, and Rodrigo went for scissors. I pounded his scissors until he made an explosion sound with his mouth and his hand went flying into the air.

  “Boom, Claire is the goddamn winner!” he cried. “She came in at the last second with the rock and blew her competition apart.”

  Snorting with laughter, I fell against him. “I still can’t believe you went for scissors after I told you I was going for rock.”

  “Cheaters never win, preciosa.” His arm curled around my waist. “Let’s go tell Adam his girl is the winner.”

  Without giving me a chance to balk at being called Adam’s girl, Rodrigo tugged me through the crowd, weaving around groups and couples. Marta and Iris were together, but unfortunately, not alone. Marta gave me a subtle thumbs down, and I blew her a kiss.

  Rodrigo stumbled as we passed one of the open doors to a bedroom and muttered, “Oh shit.”

  “Oh shit, what?” I tried to peer around him, but he blocked me.

  “Let’s keep looking.” He tried to pull me away from the doorway, but he was drunk and clumsy, while I was drunk and determined. I ducked beneath his arm to see what he hadn’t wanted me to.

  There was no mistaking Adam’s long, lean form stretched out on the bed beside a shirtless woman who had multiple bead necklaces strung around her neck. She writhed against him as they made out like they were running out of time. Desperate, mad, panting, humping. It would have been a turn on to watch if he hadn’t just tried to kiss me against his window. Was any man sincere? Adam obviously didn’t owe me a single thing, but this made my stomach twist.

  “Gross,” I whispered, stumbling away from the train wreck.

  “He’s drunk,” Rodrigo said, attempting to defend his boy.

  “So am I. I managed to keep my tongue in my mouth.”

  But why should I? I’d been a good girl for so long. Loyal to a disloyal husband. With one man for seven years, and instead of going wild when it ended, I’d taken time to “heal.”