“No!” Kylee screeched, jumping to her feet. “You tell him one thing about this and I will fire you immediately. I swear to God I will, and I’ll make sure you get the financial penalty for early termination. You signed a confidentiality clause with me, Myka. Don’t you remember?” Her eyes narrowed and Myka flinched at the angry gaze.
“I’m sorry. Okay! I won’t call Christopher. Let me think.” Myka pursed her lips and wracked her brain. She could call Christopher, the manager, despite Kylee’s threats. But Kylee was so erratic that she might actually fire Myka in retribution, and who knew if Christopher would or could even get Kylee the help she needed?
She couldn’t call 911, because this wasn’t an emergency—well, it kind of was, but it probably didn’t fit the technical guidelines for EMTs. She couldn’t fathom trying to pick up Kylee and carry her to an urgent care.
Her stomach lurched as she remembered Gabriel’s offer, that first night they’d met, before he’d turned out to be an arrogant Bond Sneak-Oh-Seven. No. She couldn’t give him the satisfaction. But out of easy options, she dialed his number and her heart thumped when she heard his voice.
“Myka, it’s a pleasure to talk to you again,” he said, a smile in his words.
Myka was curt. “Does the offer still stand to contact your doctor friend? Kylee does want someone, now. A psychiatrist. I’m asking you for help. Right now. As in, immediately-right-now.”
His tone changed to one of concern. “Yes, of course. Let me call her. I’ll see if she can come to you tonight.”
Myka breathed a sigh of relief and explained to Kylee that she’d found a doctor. But while they waited, Kylee suddenly switched topics.
“Want to see something interesting?” she asked, her eyes sliding to her computer. “Look.” She lifted up the screen and her fingers danced. “Here’s my dad. I found him.”
“What do you mean, you found him?”
“Well. mom refused to say where he was. So I hired a private investigator, and had him tracked down.” Kylee pulled up a picture, clearly shot from a distance lens. “Here he is at lunch. Organic café. Huh.”
Myka’s mind reeled. “You hired a—private detective?”
“I have the money, Myka. Plus, research is so fun.” Kylee smiled at the screen, and her fingers tapped. “Here’s the report from the PI. There’s a lot of good stuff in here. I might threaten my mom to release some of it.”
Myka frowned. “Why?”
“My mom always wants me to do things her way. I feel this is the only way to get on top of it, to, like, make her stop.” Kylee broke off, and she slammed the computer shut and buried her face in her arms. Myka patted her shoulder, praying the doctor would arrive soon.
In less than an hour Gabriel and a woman in her fifties met Myka in the lobby. On the way to Kylee’s suite they passed a few members of the entourage, and although one or two of them shot them a curious look, nobody asked questions. Gabriel waited in the hall with the bodyguards while Myka led the doctor inside the suite.
“Kylee? I’m Doctor Ellen McMahon,” said the woman, her voice pleasant and even. “I’m a board-certified psychiatrist with over twenty-five years of experience treating patients. If you’re interested in talking to me, we can figure out what’s going on and which steps you want to take to feel better.”
“You’re not going to try to lock me up, are you?” Kylee wiped her dry cheek with a fingernail, looking up at Dr. McMahon.
“I’m here to talk. We’ll figure out what kind of treatment is right for you. Usually we’ll talk for an hour, but tonight I’ll stay longer until I make sure you’re safe.”
Kylee got up and paced. “And you won’t tell anyone? Not my mom? Not my manager?”
“Kylee, since you’re over eighteen, I’m bound by my physician’s oath to keep your details confidential. I can only release information if you sign a release document with a person’s name on it.”
Kylee wrinkled her nose, then nodded. “Okay. I want to talk to you. Can you go now?” She pointed at Myka. “I want this private. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Myka returned to Gabriel, and when they were out of earshot of the bodyguards, Myka let her body deflate. “God, that was intense,” she shuddered. “I know one visit isn’t going to fix her, but it’s a start. Thank you.” She felt humble, having to call him for help after telling him off, and grateful he was not lording it over her. But she was also still mad at him.
Gabriel’s gaze was warm. “Most people would have looked the other way or leaked her story to the media for a huge payoff.”
“I could never do that,” protested Myka. “She trusts me. I wouldn’t sell her personal life. She’s just a little messed up right now.”
“How did she get so attached to you?” asked Gabriel.
Myka swallowed. “I don’t know. It was like a—like a baby bird imprinting on a human zookeeper from the minute I was hired. She always wants me around, helping her.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “It’s been a long week. I don’t even have a home right now for escape. My friend and I used to share an apartment, but when she got her Italy job and I got this tour, we gave it up. Now I’m a hotel rat until I find my own place. I get reimbursed completely for the hotel, so I’m saving all of my salary right now, and I kind of need to do that so I have a cushion when I branch out on my own, consulting.”
Gabriel asked, “So—this hotel is your home, right now? Is it worth the hassle?”
Myka brushed at her hair and shrugged. “Kylee loves having me in the hotel. I’m always just a phone call away. Every time I talk about looking for an apartment or house-hunting, she freaks out and has the manager raise my salary, and honestly, I’m saving so much right now that it’s worth it financially. The last time she did it, though, her manager came and yelled at me for manipulating her and told me no more raises, and that any other details were to be approved directly by him.” She rubbed her eyes. “I try to keep my ultimate goal in mind, that of my own business, and that helps me stay on course. But sometimes? I hate this job so much, and I feel like I’m the one who’s going crazy.” Her voice broke.
Gabriel looked at her, assessing, then seemed to make a decision. “You need to talk, and I want to listen. Let me take you somewhere, right now. I promise, no spying.” He smiled, touched her arm. “Yes?”
“I haven’t even changed. Right now?”
“Yes, right now. Tu es si belle. You look lovely.” He sounded sincere, and he took her hand and rubbed it.
Myka stood stiff with indecision, but needed to talk, and she wanted it to be with him. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Myka relaxed in a quiet café, forgiving him for the interview tactics. Her body had not forgotten the attraction; she flat out wanted him, and his hot gaze was proof that he felt the hunger as well.
As they lingered over a glass of wine, he touched her finger with his. “Are you calmer now?”
She nodded. “Thank you. I just hope you don’t have a secret voice recorder going under the table.” She punched his arm lightly to let him know it was mostly a joke, and smiled.
He laughed. “If I apologize again, will I eventually be forgiven?”
“Perhaps.” Myka shot him a look. Now that they’d spent more time talking, she had a better understanding of how important the project was. She understood why he’d checked into her; although she wasn’t happy, she was getting past it, especially since his body language told her that his personal interest was definitely real.
“I’m glad for a chance to earn my way back into your good graces.” He covered her hand with his, his voice husky. “Je ferais n’importe quoi. I’ll do anything you want.” His voice was full of subtle suggestion, and Myka blushed.
“Well, as Gandhi once said, forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” Myka was going to make him work.
“I don’t see you as anything but strong,” he said, stroking her hand. “So strong, perhaps, that you can forgive me and let me take you out… dancing?”
&nb
sp; “Hmmm…” Myka replied. “I was so sure you were going to add, It’s so much easier to ask forgiveness than permission.”
“It’s too bad I could not do both at once.” He gave her a wicked grin.
Myka smiled, then mused, “I wonder how it would be to exist in a place where two possibilities played out, both equally likely, and both desired? You know, if you take the path less chosen and the path more chosen at once. Live out two dreams.”
Gabriel’s eyes gleamed at her. “And what would your two choices be, Myka? Tell me. Tonight, what two things would you like to come true?” His finger stroked her palm so softly she could barely feel it, but it sent spires of desire through her entire body.
She met his stare and murmured, “I’d stay here and enjoy this dance, keep flirting with you, and then go home, leaving you aching for more. But on the other hand, I’d go home with you… let you start earning the forgiveness you claim to want so badly.”
His eyes darkened. “You’ll have to pick just one… tonight. Fortunately, we have all the time in the world to explore your fantasies, Myka. Make them all come alive.” He had both of her hands in his now, and Myka’s breath came faster as he said, “All of your exotic desires, and your darker ones too, things that only come out in your wildest imagination.”
Myka smiled, feeling both choices in the grasp of his strong hands.
“Have you suspected that my desires are a little more exotic than the norm?” he asked, his eyes intense.
Myka gulped, seeing the intensity in his expression. “Maybe I’m a little curious about the dark side,” she said, her voice throaty, and smiled as a muscle in his jaw twitched. “And maybe it’s time for you to tell me what you meant… when you said that you’re different from the men I usually date.” Her stomach lurched with a combination of excitement and nerves.
He stood up, tossed some bills onto the table, and pulled her to her feet. “Come.” As soon as they were out the door, he pushed her against the brick wall of the café and put his hands up, one on either side of her head. Tingles of anticipation surged through her body.
Gabriel smiled and murmured, “Tu veux en entendre de plus? I’ll tell you. I’m a dominant, Myka, in the bedroom. I enjoy bringing my woman such pleasure that she not only allows me to take control, but begs for it. And I mix the pleasure with pain because we both like it that way. Do you want to hear more?” His eyes held a dare; his smile, a promise.
Myka’s heart raced. It was one thing to read about things in books… but in real life, it was surely far more intense. She felt wild anticipation and a little bit of fear.
“Yes, I do want to hear more.” She bit her lip and smiled provocatively, and then added, “But how do you know I’m not already into that? Didn’t you see my book in the bar, the first time we met?”
He laughed. “Oh, Myka, I can tell by the way you look at me. The way you don’t look at me. It’s in your eyes… you haven’t experienced it yet, although you think you want to. Yes?”
Myka was startled, even though his words turned her on. “You can’t tell all that. You’re guessing.” But her eyes were still locked with his, their faces so close she could feel his breath on her lips.
“Am I?” He stroked one finger down her jaw, and she trembled. “It’s not like a book at all, Myka. It’s more intense. If I told you that I wanted to take you home and strip you bare, have you kneel for me, crawl for me, obey my every command, would your first words be ‘Yes, sir’? Or would you blush and stammer, unable to do it?”
Myka’s whole body quivered with intense excitement. The urge to do exactly what he wanted rose in her and she gasped, her heart pounding. The emotion between them was too intense and she dropped her eyes to his chest while she tried to compose herself.
He smiled and stepped in closer so his entire body brushed hers, and dropped a kiss on her neck, biting down gently. “That’s what I thought. You’re dying to say yes, but you can’t, yet. You’re scared, ma chèrie.”
She made her voice strong. “I’m not scared. You’re arrogant, though.” She met his gaze and tried to look powerful. “I think you like that I haven’t done this before. I think you want to… educate me.” She leaned in to let her lips hover next to his, and boldly put her hands around his waist. He smiled, pleased, a challenge in his face.
“I do.” He smiled at her gasp, and said smoothly, “Well, let’s go, then.”
Gabriel put his arm around her as they walked to his car. She wanted so badly to continue their charged banter, to pursue this intriguing and exotic dance, and she was utterly surprised—and severely disappointed—when he pulled up in front of the hotel a few minutes later.
His eyes were bright as he kissed her mouth. “Myka. I’m traveling myself next week for a conference. We’ll meet when I return.” He stroked her jawline, and the heat flared between them.
Myka’s voice held a plea. “I want to meet now. Come up with me.” His mouth was on hers then, kissing her fully, and Myka melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his head to deepen the kiss. He tasted of wine and man and passion, and her whole body was suffused with a light tingling joy. She had never been so sexually compatible with someone; had never felt such bliss and promise from a kiss. She wanted him to carry out his kinky promises, to teach her about his world of dominance and submission.
After a moment they broke apart, and Gabriel touched her cheek. “No. Not tonight. You’re tired and stressed. There are still things to discuss. Get some rest. We have next time, and the time after that, for everything else.” His voice was rough, almost harsh, and Myka smiled through her frustration at his hard arousal: part of him didn’t want her to go.
She knew he was right, though. She wanted to be 100% available, physically and mentally, to enjoy what delights he had to offer. And for some reason, she responded to his quiet dominance with submissive acquiescence, letting him set the pace.
The thought of herself as submissive made her heart race and her whole body suffuse with adrenaline. If he could control her so easily with his voice, get her so worked up with his words, how powerful was it going to be when he got all dominant with her in the bedroom?
Chapter Three
The next morning found Myka preparing for the Berlin trip, and trying to figure out whether Kylee had benefitted from the visit with Dr. McMahon, but Kylee didn’t return her calls. Myka bustled down the hallway at the local studio for a meeting with her lighting team when she came face to face with Kylee’s manager, Christopher. He took her arm and Myka stiffened under his grasp.
A stocky man in his mid-thirties, Christopher sported blond hair that seemed perpetually greasy and wild. His eyes were tired, and there were ink stains on his fingers. He kept the tour running smoothly, no small feat for such a traveling circus, but shortly after Myka was hired, his previously professional behavior had become combative. “We have to talk,” he notified her.
She pulled free. “What’s up, Christopher?”
His frown was severe. “It’s not okay for you to have little secret plans with Kylee, do you understand? As her manager, I need to be in the loop at all times.”
“Christopher, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Myka, putting her hands on her hips.
“Please. Everyone know you’re up in her hotel suite every night. Stop. You need to stick your nose back where it belongs, which is in the nitty gritty shit backstage, and leave the Kylee finessing to those who are paid to do it.” He stepped closer, face tight.
“Christopher, she’s a grown woman,” Myka retorted, trying not to roll her eyes, “and she can talk to whomever she wants. Haven’t you noticed her anxiety issues?”
She raised her eyebrow, holding her ground. Christopher was an asshole, but he was also good at procuring anything and everything, sometimes out of thin air. Money talked, and Christopher controlled a lot of it. If he were sympathetic, maybe he could help Kylee stay on track.
Christopher lowered his voice. “Are you talki
ng about the doctor she was all gaga about last night? If the press gets any rumors that Kylee is sick,” and he made air quotes next to his head on the word sick, “it could send her career into a tailspin. She’s in a delicate place right now, making the transition from teen idol to sexy superstar. I had to do a bunch of legwork answering questions about Kylee’s secret visitor. I had to spin a story about a backup singer with a sprained ankle. Not to mention the work I had to do with Kylee to get that shit out of her head.”
Now Myka lost her temper. “If Kylee needs or wants to see someone—anyone—then you need to be supportive.” She glared at him, relieved that he already knew about the doctor, so she would not need to make a difficult decision about whether to tell him, but annoyed that he didn’t seem to grasp the gravity of the situation.
Christopher shook his head. “All she needs is—never mind. It’s my job. I am perfectly aware of her issues, and I’m more than capable of handling them. You’re not. We need this tour flawless so she can grow her market share with her new image. I won’t stand by and let you sabotage it with your ill-timed efforts at being some kind of mother hen. She needs her routine, her stability. She needs to focus on her new songs. Period.”
Myka didn’t back down. “If she asks me for help, I’ll do what I can. You need to know that.”
Christopher persisted. “I’m the manager of this tour, Myka. The buck stops with me. I’m prepared to do everything in my power—anything I need to do—to make sure she stays a star now and in the future. Your career rides on this too. Don’t contact that doctor again, and don’t you dare tell anyone about it. Got it?” He walked off, already on his cell phone.
Myka stared after him, practically spitting sparks. Christopher had been rude in the past, but this was beyond anything. She headed back to the hotel and right up to Kylee’s suite, but her knocks went unanswered for long minutes. Finally Kylee opened the door. Her face was soft and her eyes unfocused. “Oh. Myka. Come in.”
Myka and the Millionaire Page 4