The Stage (Phoenix Rising #1)

by Shelby Rebecca

  “Are we going to the hotel?” I ask to appease the odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “We need to talk about that,” he says. His chin sticks out and he rubs the stubble on his cheek.

  “What are you doing?” I feel brave all of the sudden, but my voice gives away how aware I am of my lack of control over this situation.

  “I want you to call me Kole.” His voice is deep. He sounds troubled, nothing like the entertainer I’m used to watching on TV.

  “Why do you want me to call you Kole?” Adrenaline. Heart pounding. Take a breath.

  “Say it again,” he says, shutting his eyes. His voice sounds carnal, filled with need. It scares me.

  “I’m not going to call you that. I just need you to take us to our hotel.” I need his help, but I can tell he’s not being honest with me.

  “Mia,” he says. And oh, the way my name comes out of his mouth. “I saw you the other day outside the studio then heard your voice up there. You’ve really stood out to me, overall. I want to, no—I need to help you.”

  “Kolton, I—”

  “I’ve read your file,” he says, interrupting me. “I’ve watched the media footage about your parents and the fire.” I have to cover my mouth with my hand.

  “I don’t—”

  “We have a lot in common.” His voice sounds like tears when they’re stuck in the throat. “I feel very—protective of you,” he admits before clearing his throat.

  My hands are shaking. Is he crazy or something? Like one of those celebrities who owns a puma and wants only red M&Ms in his dressing room? Plus, we’ve been driving for too long. Where is he taking us?

  “Are we on the freeway?” I ask. It’s hard to see out of these black windows; they’re eerily dark like shadows and secrets. I feel agitated—my eyes too wide to blink.

  “Yes,” he says, his eyebrows furrowed.

  “Why?” I ask, noting the slight tremor of my hands.

  “I’d rather just show you.”

  “Listen, just because I’m on your team doesn’t mean—,” I start.

  “It’s all or nothing for me,” he interrupts. He’s rubbing his thumb into the palm of his hand, talking to the shadow window.

  “You’re really controlling.”

  “Don’t say that,” he scolds, clenching his teeth.

  “Like that’s going to help,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Snapping at me.” I fold my arms and lean back into the seat.

  “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. When I want something, I get it. Does that make sense?”

  “And what you want is?”

  “Hmm,” he says, contemplating. “To help you, to help take care of your sister so you have limited distractions, and you can go all the way to the finals. For now, that’s what I want.”

  “I’m not a groupie who’s willing to be abducted and taken wherever you want me to go.” But then again, I guess he did exactly that. My anger fumes up like boiling water.

  He ignores me. We stare at opposing black windows, sitting in silence, only the hum of tires on asphalt and Riley’s easy slumber breaths between us.

  I’m too agitated to ask him where we’re going again. If he refused to tell me once more, I’m going to go off. We take a slight right, getting off the freeway, I assume, and head down a road lined with high-rise buildings. The car stops and I can’t control the shaking in my hands as I wait for him to say something. Explain himself.

  “Kolton? Where are we?” I ask, my voice higher than I’d meant it to be. We’re parked in front of a brick high-rise with two huge ferns outside the entrance.

  “The Wilshire Thayer,” he says. “I didn’t have the chance to talk to you. It was a split-second decision.” He pinches between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve moved you to the penthouse here. It’s an exclusive building. The security is tighter than the hotel. I feel better about you staying here while I’m gone.”

  “What? I—you—I’m? You moved our stuff out of the hotel?”

  “Not personally, no.”

  “Is this something you’ve done for your whole team? Like, we’re all staying here?”

  “No, Mia, they’re not,” he says, leaning slightly forward, his green eyes highlighted by the street light. They look predatory and possessive. “I only want what’s best for you.” I’m shaking my head ‘no.’ I put my hand out to ward off any more talking from him; this is not fucking okay.

  “Just take us back to the hotel,” I demand.

  “No. That’s not going to be possible.” He leans back into the partial shadows.

  “Is this why you were late today?” I ask, feeling honored, but smothered, all in the same moment.

  “Partly, yes,” he admits, looking straight through me again and my whole body shudders. I do not want to be under anyone’s control. “Let’s get her inside,” he says as he taps the window. The door is opened from the outside and he motions for me to get out first.

  “We need to talk about this!”

  “Not now, Mia,” he admonishes me like a child. “I’ve had a very long day—and nothing you say is going to change anything. Let’s go inside.”

  I stomp out of the car and he steps out, holding Riley, and walks past the front desk. The doorman nods to him and we are ushered into one of the elevators. His driver is with us and I notice a gun strapped under his arm. He must also be his bodyguard. I feel dizzy, nauseated. I put my hand over my stomach to ease the rumbling, boiling rage.

  The older man has inserted a key into the elevator control. I’m assuming it’s because he’s taking us to a floor that’s off limits to the rest of the building.

  There are twelve floors and a “P.” Penthouse, I guess. What! Thirteen floors? What’s up with me and the number thirteen these days?

  I look at Riley. She’s so tired, not moving a muscle. She’s even snoring a little.

  “You don’t live here, do you?” I ask, hearing the waver in my own voice.

  “Some of the time, yes.” I’m pursing my lips together and biting the inside of the bottom one. “I also have a house in the hills.” My fingers have unknowingly chipped off almost all my dark nail polish.

  “Does it have a fire escape?” I ask. If we’re going to the top floor, that really worries me.

  “It has the best built-in alarm that includes fire. It’s completely up to code. I had sprinklers installed myself before I moved in. And yes, there’s a fire escape—just installed,” he says. “It reaches down to the floor below you.” He looks like he’s in pain as he says it, like it makes him sad I asked.

  “Since I have no way to leave tonight, we’ll stay, but we’re going back to the hotel tomorrow.” I’m mad at him. Furious. Someone had to go through our belongings to pack them up. Shouldn’t he have at least asked me first?

  He doesn’t answer me. “I’m not some slutty girl who sleeps her way up the ladder,” I say, defensively. To that, he laughs a little.

  “No, I didn’t think you did.”

  The elevator door opens and we are inside a marble foyer. It’s all dark wood and deep tones. The artwork, the floors; it’s all man.

  It smells as clean as a hotel, like crisp linens, wood polish, money. He walks right through the square foyer, toward a stately entrance looking into a formal dining room and takes the double doors to the left. As I walk in, it looks like an office with a daybed.

  “Just get that light there,” he whispers, nodding toward a little night light-stuffed-animal next to the bed. As he lays her down, I turn the stuffed animal on, and little stars in a soothing blue shine out of its back onto the ceiling. It’s just like the one Riley brought with her. Wait? It might even be the same one.

  “I’ll let you change her.” He leaves and closes the door behind him. “Uh,” I say, to no one but myself. I look around. It’s a beautiful room, the colors on the bed are blue, Riley’s favorite. There’s an armoire across from the bed. When I check inside a drawer, Riley’s pajamas are ins
ide folded. From the conversation in the car, I’d known our things were here. But this is too much. Actually putting our things away in drawers.

  I take the pajamas out and notice that hanging up are her clothes—even the ones she’d already worn. He must have had them cleaned. There are new clothes, too, all in her size.

  I can’t decide, as I change her into her pajamas, gently so not to wake her, if this is creepy or the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me? Part of me wants to call a cab and leave—run as fast as I can. The other wants to thank him for going above and beyond to help me—to help us. What would I have done without him? I probably would’ve had to drop out.

  As I tuck Riley in, I feel like he wants me to trust him. But I’m pissed. I feel overpowered, and unsure. I need to talk to him so I open the door and make my way out to the living room. Deloris is there, waiting.

  “Where’s Kolton?” I ask.

  “I’m sorry, dear, but he left right after I got here. He asked me to give you this,” she answers, holding out an envelope for me.

  “He left? Where’d he go?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “I need to talk to him about this,” I say, motioning with my hands around the room.

  “About what, dear?”

  “About staying here.”

  “He was very clear that this was to be where I’m to take care of Riley. He’s set up a room for me, too. It’s nice, just on the other side of the kitchen. I have a cat and he let me bring her with me. We had to sneak her in because there’s no animals allowed. He’s such a nice man,” she says almost dreamily.

  “Okay. Thanks.” My words come out drone-like. I must be dreaming. I don’t even know where I’m going as I walk past her. I pass through the dining room featuring a metal chandelier and a thick, dark wood table that seats at least twelve, and through the living room with its wall of windows and white fireplace mantel.

  I click along the hardwood floors in my too-tall boots, pass a built-in bar and find the kitchen with an attached family room. It’s stunning, something out of a magazine. The marble, the dark wood. The huge sink. The stainless appliances. I walk up to the largest refrigerator I’ve ever seen.

  When I open it, I find Riley’s favorite yogurt, applesauce, pink lady apples, which I’d specifically asked for at the hotel, eggs, cheese, bacon, already portioned salads with every kind of dressing ever made. All the foods we ate when we were staying at the hotel. This is—this is really fucking creepy. He’s been spying on us?

  He even got me my favorite vitamin water, pomegranate flavored. I’d had several of those delivered through room service. He’s been spying on our hotel orders.

  I’ve never felt more like talking to my mom since my parents died. I want to tell her what’s happened, ask her what I should do. I want to cry; I want to run away. I want to talk to Kolton—Kole, whatever his name is.

  I grab an apple and my vitamin water and move to the family room next to the open kitchen. This room is different from the fancy living room, it looks lived in. There’s a huge TV and an overstuffed couch, two comfy chairs, and a tufted ottoman rather than a coffee table. The end tables, and the table behind the couch, have that weathered look. I notice his game station and a few guitars, along with folksy artwork.

  There’s also an older-looking plain brown piano tucked into the corner. I’m drawn to it. As I sit down on the bench and run my fingers along the keys, I feel him. This is his place—and he trusted me here without him. I hear a door click behind me. That must have been Deloris going to bed.

  I almost play a song, but it somehow seems wrong without his permission. I crunch into the apple, turn off the lights, and head back through the house toward the bedrooms.

  As I pass through the formal room with the tall ceiling, wrought iron balcony, and wall of windows, I notice another piano set up. It’s new and worth a lot of money, but I don’t think it means much to him. Not like the other one.

  I want to check for the fire escape—I mean, I can’t sleep unless I know. I open the black doors. They lead to a covered patio and then to an open patio. The warm air hits me, the sound of the cars traveling below like a song.

  There’s a box next to the railing at the far end, and, sure enough, there’s a picture of a staircase that seems to unravel to the patio below. I wonder where else there’s access to another one of these from upstairs.

  I’m exhausted, but I have no idea where my room is. Maybe up the staircase? I climb up and find a bedroom door open and peek in. It’s another large room like Riley’s, just with a deep red color scheme rather than the blue in hers.

  I check the closet, and yep, my clothes are hanging up. Plus new clothes in my size, all designer with price tags still on them. One shirt is a Michael Kors, three hundred and twenty dollars. What the hell? Is he trying to buy me? All he’s done is make me distrust him more than ever.

  I back out of the closet and check the drawers. My pajamas and underwear are all folded neatly, plus new ones there, too. This is just too much. He bought me underwear and bras? How does he know my bra size? Freaking hell?

  Since he’s done all of this, I want to get even. I want to snoop in Kolton’s room. At the end of the hall, I can see double doors in a dark stained wood. I walk along, my heels pressing into the plush throw rug, and as I open it, I smell his cologne. It makes my skin tingle and a shiver travels way, way, up my spine.

  It’s a long, deep room with his bed at the far end. The carpets are plush, the hardwood floors dark. A dark wooden king sized bed is made up in a lush, deep green duvet.

  I feel wicked as I walk into his bathroom, my heart pounding because I know this is wrong. There’s a long sink with dark cabinets. It has light marble on the floors, counter and tiles; a separate toilet area, a huge tub, and a glass shower the size of Texas.

  I walk toward his closet door and turn the knob. It’s practically the size of my room in the rental. Ohmygod! His rock star clothes: some jeans, designer T-shirts, suits—squeeee! I want to see him in a suit. I bet he looks amazing in these. Stop it! That was just temporary insanity, I tell myself. He’s a controlling jerk, after all.

  I can’t help myself. I run my hands along the clothes, feeling him for a moment, remembering the look in his eyes when he told me he wanted my trust. Why isn’t he here? Is he trying to stay away so I don’t break my contract with the show? Or does he just want to win and get his way? Probably the latter.

  What if Jackson Diles, or the other executive producers, find out I’m staying here? I’ll get kicked off the show. Maybe I should call a cab? But Riley is asleep, and all our stuff is here. I can’t leave until morning.

  I sit down on the circular bench in the center of his room-sized closet and open the envelope. There’s a key inside along with a letter. It’s in his own handwriting, I believe.

  Mia,

  I apologize for not talking to you about this first. I have to leave for the next week and a half, and I knew you didn’t have family to take care of you or help with your sister. I’m uncomfortable with leaving you alone at the hotel while I’m gone. There was no time to talk it over. I had a feeling you’d take it the wrong way.

  I will not be staying here with you. I’ve taken care of everything and the producers know where you are. They weren’t happy about it, but they agreed as long as we stay apart until after the finals. Then it will be up to you.

  Devon, my driver, can take you anywhere you need or want to go. I do have some staff that clean, and stock the kitchen, but you, Deloris, and Riley will be on your own for the most part. I’ve left you a phone on your night stand. I’m the only one who has the number. My number is set to private in contacts. You can call or text me any time you need.

  Please keep it with you in case I have any ideas about the show, or if I need to get a hold of you for some reason. I can’t tell you how important it is to me that you learn to trust me. I hope this was a step in the right direction.

  I’ll be thinking of you.
r />   Kole

  Kole? Why does he want me to call him that? He’s thinking of me? Holy crap. He’s done all of this so I’ll trust him? I don’t believe him. He’s so arrogant, he thinks he has the right to just take us, move our stuff, spy on me. But, to be honest, I really do need his help. If he’d asked me rather than doing it this way, maybe—well, let’s face it. I would’ve had to accept. I have no other choice.

  I have no idea what to think right now. He said after the live shows, it’ll be up to me. What will? And is that even fair that he’s nearly guaranteeing I’ll have a spot in the live shows? Is it my voice, or me, that he wants?

  I’m achy and my eyes feel heavy. I take off my boots and set them next to a pair of his. Somehow that feels right.

  I bet he has access to the fire escape through his room. I open the French doors to his patio and step out into the still warm California air. Yep, again, there’s the fire escape. I feel better knowing how to get out in a hurry. When I come back inside, I’m drawn to his bed. As I run my fingers along the soft fabric, I wonder how many women he’s had here. I admit, the turning of my stomach at the thought of it might be jealousy.

  As I walk back to my room, the letter and key in hand, I feel a pang of homesickness. I know I can’t sleep in that big room all by myself. I grab some pajamas and the phone Kolton left me off the nightstand in the red room, go downstairs, change, and climb in bed with Riley. Out of curiosity, I swipe the screen and find there’s already a message from Kolton.

  K-Royce Private

  11:02 PM

  Good night Mia.

  Without contemplating, I type back:

  11:48 PM

  We need to talk about this Kolton

  11:49 PM

  Everything is going to be fine Mia. I promise. You need to trust I have your best interest at heart.

  11:50 PM

  I’m sorry. We can’t stay here. We r going back to hotel tomorrow

  11:50 PM

  I’m not comfortable with that.

  11:51 PM

  I’m not comfortable with this.

  As I snuggle against Riley, one minute turns to two, then five, then ten. He never texts back. What have I gotten myself into? He’s so controlling. He arranged all of this. And then he just left before I could even talk to him about it. Now he won’t acknowledge that I don’t want to stay. He’s going to push me through to the live rounds. That’s not even fair. I should be grateful, but it feels dirty and tainted.