by Violet Paige
I was angry enough to split the steering wheel in half. The rage pumped through me in jolts of adrenaline. Someone was going to pay for this. Ruining my reputation was one thing. Someone trying to take Alexa down was something else.
I pulled into the garage. I needed to get Alexa on the phone.
Charlie kept rambling. She was in def-con five mode. “I’m not prepared to reorganize our plan until I see how the optics fall out. It would help if I could talk to Alexa. For now, please don’t leave Austin, Luke.”
I ignored her. There was no way she could keep me here if Alexa needed me in Nashville.
“I’ve got to go, Charlie. Tell Linc I’ll call him later.” I hung up before she had a chance to shove another recommendation down my throat.
I dialed Alexa’s number.
“Baby, you ok?”
She choked out a sob. “Luke.”
“Hey, what the hell is going on? Are you ok? Talk to me.”
We were all in on this thing. She knew she could trust me with her life. I always had her back. I’d do whatever it took to take care of her, especially with fucking vultures coming after her like this.
Her life had been anything but easy. She had gone through hell with her parents. She had survived so much on her won. They weren’t here for her now, but I could be. I could be that man in her life. I was strong enough for both of us if she needed me to be. I’d fight like hell for this woman. Nothing could stop me. My emotions ran deep and wide.
And it hit me like a fucking brick to the back of the head. I loved her.
I loved Alexa Wilde. It was fierce and overpowering. The kind of love that was brutal. I had held her closer and tighter than any woman. I had memorized every delicious morsel of her body. I missed her when she wasn’t near me. I listened to her damn music in my truck. I knew the words to her songs. I knew the songs she hadn’t recorded yet. I wore the damn sunglasses she had shipped to me. I kept pictures of her on my phone. I was fucking in love with her. Damn it.
I heard her suck in a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know if you’d call. I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me.”
“I can handle this. Shit, Alexa. I’ve been accused of worse.” If she hadn’t met me at a charity event I wondered if she would have taken the chance she did. Did that one sliver of good she saw in me lead us here? This was my territory. I knew how to roll with the punches of bad press. I could get her through this fuckup.
“It’s mostly true.”
It was as if someone had jammed a blade between my ribs. What did she say? No. It wasn’t true. No fucking way was it true.
“It’s true?” I sat in the cab of my truck, dumbfounded. Shocked. Broken.
I didn’t know how quickly my emotions could be strangled with one confession.
She sniffed. “Jake said he was going to release the information, but I didn’t believe him. I never thought he’d actually go through with it. He’s been saying it for years.” She cried so hard, none of her words made any sense.
“You used to be Mandy Brown?” I didn’t even know who the fuck that was.
“Yes, but let me explain—”
I cut her off.
“Stop it. It’s a fucking lie.” I couldn’t let her destroy me. The longer I hung around to hear excuses, the longer my heart was still in it. The more I bled. The more I physically reacted to the words in my ear.
“Luke, I wanted to tell you all of this before, but there was never a right time to tell you.”
My stomach clenched in repulsion.
I didn’t need an explanation. I had been played. I was no different than the fans. The millions of people who fell in love with an image.
I thought she was someone different. The woman who had brought something deep and powerful from my soul. She could move me with her voice. Rock me with her body. Love me with her heart. And the entire time she was a whore. A whore.
My eyes narrowed. My heart hardened.
“Luke, please talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
What could she say? What could undo the lies and deceit? What would erase the images flashing through my head of other men having her the way they wanted? Of her reaching for the bedside for piles of cash after she had been fucked. God. I cringed. I beat the steering wheel.
“You have to know I was trying to make it on my own, and the real story isn’t the one you—”
The rage consumed me. The pain tore through my veins. I hung up and hurled the phone in the back of the truck. I didn’t want to be near it if she called or texted.
I walked inside and went straight for the bottle of bourbon.
I didn’t bother to find a glass. I popped the top and touched the bottle to my lips. It had been a long time since I had spent the night drunk, but I was about to change that.
Thirty-Three
Alexa
“Honey, please stop checking your phone.” Helena’s voice was sympathetic.
“He hasn’t called or returned any of my texts.” I turned the screen facedown. “If he were coming tonight, he would have called, wouldn’t he?”
Her eyes met mine in the mirror. “I’m sorry. But you’ve got to focus on this night. Look how gorgeous you look. And this dress is to-die-for.”
I didn’t care about the dress or my hair. Without Luke, it didn’t matter.
“I think I should skip the red carpet.”
“I realize Jake isn’t your manager any more, but I have to step in on this one. You’re doing the red carpet.”
I sighed. “So I can be humiliated, publicly?”
“No, so you can show people you are not ashamed of who you are. Tell people the truth, Lex.”
I shook my head. “They’ve already made up their minds. They think I was a prostitute.”
“And you’re ok with that? You’re ok with Jake smearing your name to everyone?”
I glared. “Why didn’t he just leave on his own? Why did he have to throw me under the bus and claim breach of contract on my part? I would have let him out if he had asked.”
“Because he’s a fucking snake.”
I was done wasting my energy on Jake. I was free from him. And he had been right. I wasn’t going to run his name through the mud. It would make me just as ugly and nasty as he was if I outed him. I’d always told him I’d stand by him if he decided to live his life publicly. I’d feel like a hypocrite if suddenly I used it against him as if I didn’t support gay relationships. I had to let that go. It wasn’t going to happen.
“I wonder how long he had been courting Nicki Niles?”
She shrugged, tucking a few curls behind my ears and pinning them with crystals. It gave my hair a little bit of extra sparkle.
“Long enough to devise a diabolical plan. He signed with her yesterday. He could have at least waited until after the CYAs.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s in pop now. And I’m staying in country. Hopefully, we’ll never see each other again.”
I had a lump in my throat. I hoped I was still in country. I wanted to be. This was my musical place. The instruments I played. The lyrics I loved. My friends, who had been noticeably absent, were in this industry.
But Jake’s plan to destroy me out of pure driven spite had already been successful. The calls had stopped. The congratulations had slowed. No one invited me to any of the after parties tonight. And the one person who mattered most—Luke—was gone.
I pulled my shoulders back and pressed my lips together, refreshing my lip gloss before the limo door opened. I had to walk the red carpet alone. I plastered a smile on my face. I missed Luke. So badly it hurt.
But this was on me. I should have talked to him. I should have told him the night I opened up about my family. There was so much more to the story than what I shared. But the fear that he would hate me kept me from telling him I was desperate when I first moved to Nashville.
My parents were gone. I had no college fund. I had a pocketful of waitress tips and that was it. When
I saw the ad for the dating agency I answered it. It wasn’t supposed to last long. And I wasn’t a whore.
“Ready?” the driver asked.
I nodded. “They can open the door.”
He signaled to the group outside and the door opened. The flashes and screams started. I stepped onto the red carpet, hearing my name mixed with boos and cheers. Reporters screamed my name.
The representative appeared from the side. “Right this way, Miss Wilde. We’ll just keep you moving here. Yep. Just keep walking.”
I smiled and looked up at him. He guided me through a line. Instead of stopping and posing for pictures or answering questions he ushered me on the other side of the paparazzi row.
“Don’t I need to—”
“We’ll just keep moving. I don’t want you to deal with anything uncomfortable tonight.” He pulled the earpiece on his head. “Ok, looks like I can take you straight to your seat.”
“But, I wanted to say hi to some people.” I looked over my shoulder. I was the only one being whisked inside as if I were late.
“Inside works. And it’s cooler,” he offered.
I refrained from stomping my pointy heel into his toes. He was only doing what he had been told to do, but I felt it. The judgment. The pity. The problem I caused for the awards. They would much rather I tucked my tail and stayed home to watch the awards in my PJs and with a big bucket of cookies and cream ice cream.
Instead Lexi Wilde was here to collect all her CYAs in person and remind the world that country fans had fallen for a girl that underneath it all was paid to be liked.
This was when I needed a manager—someone who could navigate this mine field for me. Show me where it was clear to step. Who I should avoid. The path to safety.
There hadn’t been time. Between severing ties with Jake, losing Luke, and preparing for the show with Helena I didn’t have time to vet and interview new managers.
Before he could shuttle me inside, a microphone was shoved in my face.
“Lexi, what do you want to tell your fans about the accusations? Do you think it’s going to affect your chances tonight to take home an award?”
I turned to my guide, indicating I was going to stop whether or not he liked it.
“Hi.” I grinned sweetly. “I’m so happy for my fan support. I’ve felt so much love this week. Really, I can’t thank them enough.”
Years of working alongside Jake had prepared me for these kinds of questions.
The truth was my accounts were filled with nasty words like whore, slut, and hooker. I had been overwhelmed with venom and hate. It took everything I had to get out of bed. Helena had convinced me to stop reading the nastiness.
“And the awards?” the reporter pressed.
“Oh, I’m not even thinking about that,” I lied. “It is an honor to be nominated, and I just loving being here to celebrate country music with my friends.”
I felt a tap on my elbow and I knew I had to get inside or be carried.
“Thank you.”
I ducked inside and faced a crowd of my peers.
“I can find my own seat.” I told the representative. “Thank you.” I tried to be gracious, but he was overbearing. “Unless you want to walk with me to the ladies’ room?” I suggested.
He took the hint and walked back outside. I doubted there were any other artists here who caused the kind of image problems I did, but someone always showed up drunk, and you could count on at least one couple to have a major fight in the limo before the car door opened. It was standard award show activity.
“Olivia.”
I waved to one of the first artists I ever toured with. Olivia Jones was one of the biggest headliners when I started in the business. I hadn’t seen her since we did a holiday concert together last year. I crossed the lobby to give her a hug, but before I got to her she had already stepped inside the theater.
I bit my lip, trying to convince myself she hadn’t seen me.
But after the next three artists snubbed me, I couldn’t pretend any longer. I wasn’t welcome here.
The lights flickered and everyone squeezed through the doors to find their seats. I hesitated. If I left, no one would care. They would find a seat filler for me. Someone like Olivia would say I wasn’t able to make it to accept my award. But screw that. I was stronger than what they thought they knew about me.
I had a song to perform tonight.
I had awards to collect.
I had an image to rebuild, and I wasn’t going to start that by running away. I didn’t know if Luke was in my life anymore, but he had taught me that strength wasn’t sporadic. It wasn’t a convenience you could turn on and off. It was a part of my DNA.
The Lexi Wilde that clawed her way to the top was going to dig her boots in and stay.
Thirty-Four
Luke
I heard an obnoxious pounding sound coming from the foyer. I opened one eye and then another. I looked down at the empty bottle of bourbon on the floor. It was at least the third one. Fuck. My head hurt.
I heard it again. Someone was at the front door.
I pushed myself off the couch, stumbling to the door. I opened it.
Alexa was on the porch, dressed in a long beaded gown that hugged her hips and dipped between her breasts.
For a second I had forgotten that she had betrayed me. That we were no longer together. I saw her and my instinct was to pull her in my arms and kiss every inch of her skin. And then I remembered.
“What are you doing here?” I growled.
“If this is the only way I can get you to talk to me, I had to at least try.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
I stumbled back.
“Are you drunk?” Her eyes widened.
“Fuck yeah. You have a problem with that?”
“Is this my fault? Have you been drinking for two days? I called Linc and he said you had a cold. This isn’t a cold. This is stupid.”
“Go back to Nashville, Alexa.” I started to close the door in her face, but her palm slammed on my initials.
“No. You are going to hear me out, Luke.”
She busted past the loose hold I had on the double doors and marched into the living room. She was a blurry whirl of glitter and sequins. I couldn’t keep up. I was fucking drunk.
She stood in front of the fireplace. I tried to keep my focus on her, but the room spun.
“You need to get in bed.” She looked at me. “You are drunker than I thought.”
Before I knew it, she had my arm over her slender shoulder and started to push me toward the bedroom.
“You are not getting in my bed,” I threatened.
“I know,” she whispered. “But you need to sleep this off and we can talk in the morning.”
“I don’t know about that.” I shook my head.
But as soon as I saw my bed, I collapsed in a heap. I felt the tug of my jeans, but I was too exhausted to fight her. Her cool hands worked the pants off and she slid me under the covers with some effort. She returned a few minutes later with a tall glass of water and some ibuprofen.
“Take these and then I’ll let you sleep.”
I scowled at her, but tossed them on my tongue.
“Good night, Luke.” She turned off the light and closed the door.
The next morning the hangover wasn’t as brutal as I thought, but I was pretty sure I had dreamed Alexa had appeared on my doorstep. I walked to the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth.
When I walked into the kitchen, I realized it wasn’t a dream. There was a pot of coffee and a gorgeous blonde in my kitchen.
“Good morning.” She smiled. “How are you feeling?”
I rubbed the back of my head. “Like you aren’t supposed to be here.” I’d never tossed a woman out of my house before.
“I came to tell you my side of the story. Don’t I deserve that? I’ve given you that more than once.”
She walked toward the kitchen table with two mugs of coffee. She placed one in f
ront of me.
“I don’t know. I’m fucking pissed right now. You lied to me.”
“I thought you would be mad.”
“I am mad.”
She closed her eyes and slid into the seat. She wasn’t going anywhere. She was as stubborn as I was. I sat across from her.
“You can be mad. But you can also listen.” She glared at me.
I felt ambushed. She had jumped me when I was down. When I was too drunk to protest. The agony of what I had been through the past two days was enough to never attempt it again. I thought I found a way to drown out the noise with bourbon and vodka. Enough to numb the pain. Enough to erase her.
But fuck. She was close enough I could smell her hair. I could reach out and touch her if I wanted. And then the jab of the knife twisted under my lowest rib and I remembered the betrayal. The fucking dishonesty that was sitting at this table too.
“I can’t.” I shook my head. “I won’t.”
“Just sit there. That’s all you have to do.” Before I knew it she started telling me the truth. The full truth. “When I moved to Nashville I told you I had nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Yeah, I remember the story.” I put the coffee to my mouth. The gulp cleared the last bit of haze in my head.
“So I took a job for a dating agency.” She eyed me. “A dating agency. All I did was go on dates. Two hours max with men who needed someone for a business dinner or a social setting. It was never more than that. Never.”
She pressed the last word into the air between us. “I was not a hooker. I was not an escort. I never slept with any of the men. Every date was in a public setting. I used a fake name and wore a wig because if I did make it one day I didn’t want anyone to know I had a job in a business that doesn’t necessarily have the best reputation.”
She lowered her eyes. “I swear that is what happened. That is the complete truth. I was never a prostitute or a call girl. It wasn’t the best decision I’ve made, but it wasn’t the worst either.”
“Then why haven’t you cleared your name? Told everyone the truth?”