Needing Arella (Rockers' Legacy Book 6)

by Terri Anne Browning

  I thought since Dad had fallen for and waited for Mom until she was eighteen, and the same had happened with Nevi and Brax, that it meant it would be my destiny too. Only, while I was falling head over heels for my Prince Charming, he’d just thought of me as a friend.

  And not even his best friend.

  That was reserved for Mia.

  The pain in my heart and stomach only intensified. Hadn’t that Letizia chick looked a lot like Mia? What little I saw of her in those two pictures with her red hair and fair skin, she did resemble my cousin somewhat.

  I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to rub the pain away. Of course he went for girls who looked like Mia. He was in love with her. I’d suspected it for years, but I hadn’t wanted to believe it.

  Now, I had no choice but to.

  “Stupid, stupid girl,” I whispered to myself, angrily scrubbing the single teardrop away. “You had no business falling for him to begin with.”

  I drew in a slow, steadying breath and stood. Locking my knees to keep them from trembling, I walked to my full-length mirror and glared at the girl staring back at me. “You will not love him anymore. Jordan Moreitti is nothing more than your friend. You don’t need him. You won’t cry over him. You won’t even think about him.”

  Walking back to my bed, I picked up the unwrapped gift and then placed it at the back of my closet, locking it away along with the key to my heart.

  Seven Months Later

  Jordan

  Lana Stevenson’s soft sobs were so heartbreaking that no one was left unaffected. She clung to her husband, burying her face in his chest as the minister said the last prayer. The beautiful woman was surrounded by her children, sisters, and other family members, but she was so distraught she couldn’t see anything but the casket that held her father.

  It was closed, with white roses on top along with a picture of Cole surrounded by his daughter and all five of his grandchildren. The smile on the old rocker’s face was possibly the most genuine the man had ever had. His happiness seemed to shine out of his eyes and glow around the seven people in the picture as the afternoon sun gleamed down on the silver frame.

  But neither Lana’s heart-wrenching sobs nor the picture could hold my attention. Not when she was only a few yards away.

  I stared across the open grave at the girl who had been tormenting me night and day from the time she was barely sixteen fucking years old. At times, I was disgusted with myself and how easily Arella Stevenson could twist my thoughts of her into something dirty and sexual.

  The age gap between us might have been considered minuscule compared to the one between her parents, but since she’d been so young when I’d first started having those filthy fantasies about her, it made me feel like a lecherous old man.

  But that hadn’t stopped me from seeking out her attention. From obsessing about her every move. Or from aching for just a smile from the beauty who haunted me even when I was halfway around the world and deep between someone else’s thighs.

  It hadn’t worked, though. I couldn’t fuck her out of my system with other women, and eventually, I just gave up trying to make the ache go away with random hookups. Because no matter how many other girls I’d fucked, none of them could make me feel the peace that Arella could with just the brush of her fingertips down my jaw.

  And now she stood in tears as the world said its final goodbye to her grandfather.

  Cole Steel had passed in his sleep days before. The paps had gone crazy with the story, spouting bullshit like they found him facedown in some pornstars’s pussy, coked out of his head. They claimed he’d overdosed and that was why his heart had stopped.

  The truth wasn’t nearly as dramatic, from what Mia had shared when she’d called to tell me about Cole’s passing.

  Cole had had a heart attack, but he was too stubborn to seek medical attention. Instead, he’d thought he could just ignore the pain the pain and passed in his sleep. His daughter had found him the next morning when she and Drake showed up, determined to make him go to the doctor.

  I’d been in Milan when my best friend called to tell me about his death, and the first thing I could think about was how distraught Arella must be. She was close to the old rocker, whom she so affectionately called “Pop-Pop,” so I knew she had to be hurting. As soon as I hung up with Mia, I’d tried to call her, but her phone was off.

  I’d attempted again and again on the trip home, but her phone remained off the entire time. I hadn’t gotten back until late the night before, and even though I’d wanted to drive straight to her parents’ house to check on her, I knew I would see her today and I forced myself to go to my apartment.

  During the church service, Arella had been surrounded by her parents and siblings, so I hadn’t been able to get close to her. I tightened my hands into fists as she shifted beside her older sister and best friend. She lifted her gaze from the casket that was now being lowered into the ground, finally locking her eyes with mine.

  Her blue-gray eyes were full of so much pain, I felt something twist in my chest. It was torture to see her with tears in her beautiful eyes, with her face so tense and pale. I ached to pull her into my arms and just hold her. I would have gladly given her every ounce of strength I had to get her through such a tragic time.

  Finally, the last prayer was finished, and the graveside service concluded. Around her, everyone slowly started to return to their limos, but Arella just stood there, seeming frozen in place while her eyes stayed glued to me.

  Vaguely, I heard Mia murmur that she and Barrick would see me at the Stevensons’, where everyone was going to show their respects and have a meal in Cole’s honor. Her words barely registered as I moved in the opposite direction.

  When I reached Arella, I wasted no time and pulled her into my arms. She was stiff at first, her entire body rigid against me until I kissed the top of her head. Then, one by one, her muscles began to relax, and she sank into me, wrapping her arms around my middle and clinging to me.

  I felt her begin to tremble, and then a soft sob left her, making me tighten my hold around her. “Baby, it’s okay. I have you.”

  “I can’t believe he’s gone,” she cried into my chest. “I miss him so much.”

  I pressed my lips to her temple, breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo, and I closed my eyes as I fought my own sting of tears. Her pain was pressing down on me like a weight, making her agony feel as if it were my own.

  “Arella,” a deep voice spoke from behind her, and I lifted my eyes to find her father standing only a few feet away. Drake Stevenson’s eyes drilled into me hard, his jaw clenched.

  For the past few years, he’d welcomed me into his home and accepted my friendship with his second-oldest daughter without so much as a blink. But I got the sudden vibe that he wanted to bury me right along with his father-in-law. Instinctively, I tightened my arms around Arella, fearing he wanted to take her away from me.

  Arella lifted her head and, with another sob, pulled away from me and threw herself into his arms. He tucked her against him and, without a word to me, walked her toward the limo where her mother and siblings were already waiting.

  As I stood there, watching her walk away without a backward glance, I felt a void in the center of my chest that left me breathless. Gritting my teeth, I returned to my car and drove to the Stevensons’ house in Santa Monica.

  By the time I got there, the driveway was already overflowing, and other vehicles were lined up along the street. For several minutes I just sat there, my fingers so tight around the wheel, they were bloodless.

  Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I’d rushed back when Mia informed me of Cole’s passing. I’d barely known the man. But the thought of Arella hurting had driven me mental. That girl had a hold on me, and I didn’t know how to break it.

  Or if I even wanted to.

  I’d been fighting myself for years, but back then, her age had been enough for me to keep my hands to myself. Now, she was eighteen. There was nothing to stand in my w
ay if I decided to explore what I felt for her. I knew she felt the same, and if I was honest, that was why I’d agreed to go back to Italy when my father had needed someone to take care of a project that required “special” attention.

  Letizia was a spoiled little bitch, but I’d taken care of business and then gotten pulled into her drama on top of it. The gossip rags had been printing bullshit about the two of us ever since. Not all of it was lies, but there was just enough of the truth included in their articles about the two of us to make it believable. The publicity was sufficient to keep my father’s PR people busy, and so far, shareholders were pleased with my handling of the “project,” so I hadn’t made any of those idiotic trash magazines retract anything.

  Yet.

  My patience was wearing thin where Letizia was concerned, however, and I wanted to be done with this stupid assignment so I could get home—and yes, possibly explore what Arella and I could have, if given a chance.

  Eventually, I unlocked my fingers and walked up the driveway to the front door. As I did, I noticed another vehicle parking, and I glanced over. Several guys I didn’t recognize in dress slacks and button-up shirts exited the SUV. I heard one of them say Arella’s name, and I gritted my teeth as jealousy hit me dead center in the gut.

  Angrily, I hit the doorbell, and moments later, Braxton Collins opened the door. He gave me a dispassionate once-over before stepping back. “Figured you would have been on a plane by now.”

  “My flight isn’t until early tomorrow,” I informed him as I stepped into the huge house. I probably shouldn’t even have taken the time to come home for this funeral, but I’d dropped everything and rushed to get back to my girl.

  Gritting my teeth, I reminded myself that she wasn’t “my girl” yet. I needed to take care of work first, and then I could come back and make her mine.

  I’d been to the Stevensons’ home plenty of times in the past to hang out with Arella, but after that look Drake Stevenson had given me earlier, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be so openly welcomed any longer. I didn’t know what that was about, but it made my gut clench that maybe I’d fucked up in a major way.

  Braxton started to close the door just as the guys from the SUV walked up onto the porch. Hearing their voices, Arella’s brother-in-law jerked the door open once again then sighed in annoyance. “You idiots again,” he muttered but stepped back.

  “Hey, man,” the guy I’d heard speak Arella’s name greeted. “How’s my girl holding up?”

  I fisted my hands at my sides. What the fuck had he just said? No fucking way he’d called my girl his.

  Trying to temper my anger and jealousy, I found myself blinking at the douchebag who was still talking. He was tall, but a few inches shorter than me. His shoulders were on the leaner side of muscular, but there was a cockiness to him that made him seem larger than he really was. His chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and the cocky tilt to his chin made me want to put a fist through his pretty face.

  “Braxton, honey, is everything…okay?” Arella’s mom’s voice drifted off as her honey-brown eyes landed on me. Her lips pressed into a hard line, reinforcing my trepidation that I’d screwed up somehow, before her gaze traveled to the other guys still standing in the doorway. “Hi, Lyle…and Lyle’s friends.” She gave a grim smile. “Well, Arella will be glad to see all your handsome faces. Please come in. She’s helping out in the kitchen right now if you want to grab something to snack on.”

  Lyle took a moment to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Mrs. Stevenson. I’m really sorry about your dad. He was a cool guy.”

  Lana’s chin trembled for a moment before she forced it to stop. “He was,” she agreed in a choked voice. Clearing her throat, she waved her hand. “Please make yourselves at home.”

  When they took a step toward the kitchen, I moved faster, feeling a desperate need to reach Arella before Lyle did.

  I heard her voice before I even reached the kitchen door. The soft, almost musical sound that always eased something tight within me. A small laugh reached my ears, and I ached to wrap my fingers around that sound so I could always hold on to it.

  Entering the kitchen, I found Arella and all three of her sisters helping the caterers set up a buffet-style lunch. Wiping her hands on a towel, Arella stood close to Nevaeh as they watched Heavenleigh and Bliss finish taking lids off of huge containers.

  “Douchebag at two o’clock,” Heavenleigh muttered, and her older sisters turned in my direction.

  Nevaeh’s blue-gray eyes landed on me from behind a pair of glasses that took up most of her face and narrowed. I barely met her gaze before turning straight back to Arella. She’d changed from the simple, knee-length black dress she’d worn to the funeral into a pair of jean shorts and a Steel Entrapment T-shirt, no doubt in honor of her grandfather since he’d been the front man and founder of the band.

  Her long dark hair, which had been in soft waves at the funeral, was pulled into a ponytail that showed off her elegant neck and that damn mole that had always fascinated me, located where her neck and shoulder connected. I’d fantasized about licking it—sinking my teeth into her flesh and marking her so that no one could see it and not know that she was mine.

  “Mia’s in the living room,” Bliss announced, causing Arella to flinch and glance at her youngest sister.

  Ignoring the youngest Stevenson in the room, I crossed the kitchen to Arella. “Can we talk?”

  “Um…” Her hesitation only made me tense more, and then Lyle and his idiot friends walked in. Her gaze left me, landed on him, and I saw something flash in her blue-grays that made me want to destroy Lyle. “Hey, you,” she greeted, walking around me and hugging the guy. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead as his gaze locked with mine over her head. “I couldn’t stay away.” Leaning back, he focused on her. “How are you holding up?”

  “Better now that you’re here.” She linked her arm through his and turned for the door, completely ignoring me. “Everything is ready to go in here. Let me tell Daddy I’m leaving, and we can go pick up Palmer.”

  “We don’t have to leave. I know this is a family time.”

  “No, no,” she rushed to assure him as they left the room, his friends right behind them. “My parents know I need some time with you and my friends.”

  Feeling gut-punched, I just stood there, watching her walk away.

  What the fuck just happened?

  Did I…lose her?

  One

  Arella

  The cute barista handed over my latte with a wink, and I blew him a kiss as I turned to exit the coffee shop. Heath was nothing but a flirt, but he knew how to make the best latte in all of SoCal. He knew my order so well, he started making it as soon as I walked through the door, even though the place was packed from wall-to-wall. By the time I ordered and paid, my drink was already waiting.

  A glance at the cup showed my name with a heart for the last “a,” and it put a smile on my face as I walked to my car. It was an unseasonably warm day, and the top was down on the convertible my parents had given me when I’d graduated from high school, so I could enjoy the sun on my skin. The tiny white Porsche Boxster was adorable, and I loved it.

  As I dropped into the driver’s seat, my cell went off. Seeing it was just my best friend Palmer, I decided to let it go to voice mail and call her back later. I wanted a few moments of complete quiet while I enjoyed my coffee and drove back to the set. We’d taken an hour break for lunch and I’d done a little Christmas shopping before grabbing my coffee, so I needed to drive straight back before I was too late.

  A guard gave me a chin lift when I reached the studio lot, and he waved me through without making me pause. I gave the middle-aged guy a wink as I passed him, and he grinned. After parking, I walked inside, where we were filming the latest episode of the show I starred in as one of the three lead characters, tossing my now-empty coffee cup as I headed directly for the makeup chair. This was the fi
nal season of this damn show, and honestly, I couldn’t wait to be done with this character and the show itself.

  I’d had to deal with people trying to trash my name and dragging me through the mud for taking this role. Apparently to the world in general, I only got the leading female role for this drama because of who my father and grandfather were. Using my name to get to the top, blocking actresses who could actually act from getting the job.

  Which was why I hadn’t quit when I’d realized just how much I hated this character and the other people I worked with. I wasn’t about to let anyone think I was running from having them talk shit about me. I gave 110 percent to the role, despite wanting to stab nearly every person on set most days. I’d won a Golden Globe for my performance the year before, but not even that award had saved this idiotic drama when the network decided to make some cuts.

  I had other jobs already lined up, so as soon as we wrapped up the show for the final episodes in February, I could take my pick of whatever role I wanted.

  “Miss Stevenson, you have a package in your dressing room,” Freddie, the director’s assistant, informed me when he spotted me.

  I gave him a small smile. Freddie was possibly the least annoying person on set, so I always tried to be nice to him. “Thanks. I’ll get it later.”

  After I spent over an hour getting my makeup redone for the second time that day and I had to deal with the torture of putting on that stupid blond wig I hated so much, the afternoon passed in a blur of take after take. I was ready to drop by the time I made it to my dressing room. The couch by the window seemed so inviting, enticing me to lie down for an hour or two for a nap before I drove home, but I wanted the comfort of my own bed more.

  I grabbed my gym bag that I brought with me every day and held all my essentials, then I spotted the medium-sized package Freddie had told me about earlier. When I picked it up, it was surprisingly lighter than I expected. A courier must have dropped it off, because I didn’t see a return address, just my name and the address of the studio where my show was filmed five days a week for twenty-plus weeks of the year.