Our chemistry and attraction bleeds through the photo.
I shut the door and let out a deep breath. “We’ve been doing that trick for years, years, and have never been busted.”
She turns it back around and starts to read the article out loud. “Some of them are even reporting that we actually eloped!”
I pull my phone from my pocket. “I’ll fix this right now.” I log onto my Twitter account and start typing.
“What exactly are you doing?”
“I’m tweeting that it was all fun and games last night and I’m not a married man.”
Her eyes are wide. “You don’t want me to make a statement?”
“You can if you want, but it’s a waste of time. If I tweet it, it’s pretty much a statement in itself. Anyone who cares about what I’m doing follows me on here.”
She shuts the laptop, sets it on the floor, and rests her head against the couch cushions. “I wish it was that easy when I was dealing with my father. You couldn’t just tweet the truth back then.”
“It has its ups and downs. There have been plenty of mornings that I’ve woke up wishing Twitter didn’t exist because I drunk tweeted some stupid shit.”
She snorts. “I know what you mean.”
I sit down on the other side of the sectional. “What’s the worst thing you’ve tweeted?”
She shakes her head. “No way. I am so not going there.”
“Come on. I’ll tell you mine.” She shakes her head again. I grab my phone and turn on the camera. She jumps when I take a picture of her.
“What are you doing?”
“Tell me your worst one or I’ll tweet this picture and tell them it wasn’t a joke and you are my new wife.”
“Fine,” she mutters. “You’re seriously a pain in my ass.”
“I like your ass, so we’re even.”
Her cheeks start to turn a soft pink. “It was my twenty-first birthday. My friends and I went out clubbing. I got completely hammered and don’t remember everything that happened that night. What I do remember is waking up to a tweet that somewhat went viral of me asking who wanted to give me a screaming orgasm.”
“You dirty girl, you.”
“I was referring to the drink, a screaming orgasm, but apparently my tweet made it sound like I wanted someone to come over and actually give me an orgasm. My friends haven’t let me live that one down.”
I laugh. “Babe, you let me know if you ever need a screaming orgasm.”
“I told you enough with the sex talk.”
“I was talking about the drink. I’m a pretty good bartender.” She rolls her eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, mine is pretty bad, but probably not as bad as yours, because it wasn’t me doing the actual tweeting.”
“Then that doesn’t count.”
“It does if it was on my Twitter. A girl I hooked up with somehow got ahold of my phone after we … you know.”
“After you gave her a screaming orgasm?”
I snap my fingers. “Exactly. She tweeted like fifteen pictures of herself lying in bed with me passed the fuck out.” Her face gets redder before she bursts out in laughter. I raise my voice to talk over her. “After that, I started having George lock my phone up when I was hooking up with a chick.” I wait until she stops laughing before scooting towards her and nudging her with my elbow. “So when you finally decide to let me give you another screaming orgasm, please don’t take pictures and post them online.”
“Trust me, you don’t have to worry about either one of those things happening.”
“Never say never because who knows when you’ll be in need of a screaming orgasm.”
I grab my phone when it starts to vibrate, groaning when I read the text.
Mom: You were supposed to be staying out of trouble on this tour. I’ll be having a talk with Libby about her unprofessional behavior.
I’m not sure why my mom is so pissed about last night. She should be proud of me for selling out every venue and excited that we’re already in talks of adding more shows.
She’s scared because she doesn’t want people to quit being my fans. I don’t know why she gets so damn worried. I have plenty of money to live a comfortable life, even if I don’t make another dime. I think it’s because she’s afraid of losing the spotlight. She developed a skincare line that sells on QVC and wrote a few books about raising me. She doesn’t want those opportunities to go if people want nothing to do with me.
“What is it?” Libby asks, raising a brow.
“Nothing,” I answer. “It’s Spencer telling me about our marriage headlines.”
I hit reply.
Me: The hell you will. It was my idea. Don’t say shit to her.
Mom: I’m only doing what’s right for your career.
Me: You don’t handle my career. Her and Thomas do. You have no say.
My phone beeps again, and I’m glad this text isn’t from my mom. It’s from my brother.
Easton: Dude, I’m pissed our whole dress up game is ruined. I can’t believe you got busted.
Me: I know, but I’m surprised we got away with it for that long.
Easton: I heard the tour is kicking off with success. Miss you, big bro.
Me: Miss you too. I expect to see you when I make it home.
Easton: You know I wouldn’t miss it.
26
Libby
I knew the fun was about to end when I got on the bus this morning. I’ve memorized the schedule and am fully aware of how many shows are set up. Knox is going to be swamped.
What I was worried about happening happened, but I’m not as stressed out as I thought I would be. Sure, there are tons of articles about us, but most commenters say it looks like we’re only having fun and enjoying a night out. The Ring Pop on my finger will tell anyone with common sense that it was all one big joke.
Knox is texting on his phone when mine goes off. I’ve been waiting for her text since I saw the pictures of us.
Mia: I need an explanation ASAP.
Me: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Mia: Don’t you dare try to play coy with me! I saw the pictures. Did you get married in Vegas WITHOUT ME THERE TO BE YOUR MAID OF HONOR?!!!
Me: Do you honestly believe I got married last night?
Mia: Nope. I’m only giving you a glimpse of how dramatic I’ll be if you ever do something like that.
Me: Noted.
“The best friend?” Knox asks, looking over at me.
I shake my head. “The new boyfriend.”
His phone drops from his hand, his eyes going wide. “What?”
“My boyfriend saw the pictures of us and wants to know if I’m cheating on him.”
“Boyfriend?” His nose scrunches up in confusion. “Since when did you get a boyfriend?”
I probably shouldn’t ask him this, but I do. “Are you jealous?”
“You know I’m jealous, and I know you’re lying. It’s the best friend.”
I sigh. “She saw the pictures and was going to kill me if I got hitched without her being the maid of honor.”
“Tell her you chose Elvira over her.”
“She would probably come hunt us down and kill me.”
“I don’t doubt that. She seems a little high strung, that one.”
“We balance each other out. She’s the crazy one. I’m the level headed one.”
“Kind of like you balance me out?”
“I guess so.”
We both jump when the driver opens the door and walks up the stairs.
“You guys ready to head out?” he asks.
“Sure are,” Knox answers.
“We’ve got some long days ahead of us, but I’ll make sure you have a safe and comfortable ride.”
“Thanks,” I say.
He disappears, and a few minutes later, we hear the engine start up.
“Did you have your other assistants stay on the bus with you?” I ask. I know most musicians like to have company on the bus wh
ile others prefer to be left alone.
“My mom would usually stay with me on here when we were on the road, but I made sure we stopped and stayed at a hotel every night. She’s on the high maintenance side.”
“Has she always been like that?” This man, he’s so easy to talk to, sometimes I forget that I work for him and we’re not friends. I’m beginning to grow more and more comfortable with him.
“She hasn’t. Fame changes people. One thing that worries me about her now is how she looks at the people who are where she was years ago. When I go to charity events, sometimes she won’t come with me. She acts like they’re beneath her. It’s sad, and I think that’s why I’ve started to pull away from her. I will never forget where I came from, or look down on someone who’s in the position she used to be in.”
I love his answer. Thankfully, my dad brought me up to treat everyone the same, no matter how much money they had.
“What do you think has changed the most with you?” I ask, curiously. I don’t like him asking me personal questions, but I want to know every single detail about what makes him.
He tilts his head to the side, his lips slightly parting. “Is this our secret of the day?”
I gulp. I hate this game. Okay. I actually like it when it’s one-sided. When he’s revealing stuff to me, but I hate it when it’s my turn. Is it worth opening up so I can figure him out?
“It can be.”
“My trust of other people,” he immediately says, like the answer was on the tip of his tongue. “What do you think has changed since the whole ordeal with your dad?”
He opened up to me. It’s only fair I do the same thing. “Who I can count on and how truly ungrateful I was at times.”
He nods in agreement, understanding where I’m coming from. “I’ve lost that somewhat as well – my sense of appreciation. When I was younger, if someone did something for me, anything, even give me a piece of bubblegum, you would’ve thought they handed me a million dollars of how greatly I appreciated it.”
“But you’ve given back. I saw all of the charities you donate to, how many people you’ve helped, how many sick children you’ve visited.”
He releases a shallow sigh. “You want to know my favorite part of doing all of that?” I nod. “The way their faces light up, like me being there or what I’ve done is life changing. It reminds me of how I looked at all of the people that helped my mom – the ones at the food pantry or who donated free school supplies. That shit would make my day.”
“I wish I could help people like that.”
“I have some meets set up during my tour. Want to come along?”
“I’d like that.”
He scoots in closer, puts his arm around my shoulder, and brings me into his side. “Now my new wife, can we finally consummate our marriage?”
I’m unable to hold in my laughter as I push him away from me. “Absolutely not. I’ve already filed for an annulment.”
He frowns. “First, I don’t get laid. Now, you’re leaving my ass. What’s next?”
“I take half of everything you’ve worked for.” I jump up and go in search of the remote. “Shall we watch Friends?”
He frowns. “Not exactly how I imagined I’d be spending my honeymoon.”
27
Knox
We’ve been on the road for four weeks now, and it’s been complete madness.
The tour schedule is jam-packed. I’m performing every night to every other night, depending on how far apart the cities are. We hit one city. I do my show. I sleep. We leave and do the same thing in the next one. I also try to fit in radio interviews and promotional shit. If it weren’t for Libby, I’d probably be all over the place and stressed out.
But she makes sure I have everything I need, and I don’t have to worry about a damn thing.
“What number are we on?” I ask, falling down next to her on the loveseat in my dressing room.
She stretches out her legs and rests them on the coffee table in front of us. “You just finished your eighteenth show. You ready to retire yet?”
“Not even close. Being on tour gets me all hyped up.”
“I can tell. You’re doing a killer job. I’ve never seen stadiums so busy or heard screams so loud.”
“Trust me, I can get louder screams.”
She rolls her eyes at my response. “You have a few meet and greets after this.”
“And then we’re going to do something fun.” She raises a brow. “Like hang out.”
“We hang out every night.”
“We hang out on the bus, Netflix binge, or discuss work. I want us to have fun and focus on stuff other than that.”
“Do you not remember the last time we did that? People thought we secretly got married. I even saw stories that claim you knocked me up and your mom forced you to elope with me.”
“We won’t dress up or be in a busy place where people can see us. It’ll only be you and me. You’ve been working your ass off. I want you to relax a little.”
“I’m only doing my job.”
“You’re doing more than that. You’re making sure my shit is straight from city to city. I think you work harder than I do.”
My mom and Libby as my assistant on tour are night and day. I would’ve hired someone else years ago if I knew they did what Libby does. She gets shit done. By now, she knows what I like and doesn’t even have to ask me questions. She’s a lifesaver and a breath of fresh air.
“We’ve had a long night,” she says.
“This will relax you.” I get up and pat her leg. “Put something comfortable on. I’ll do this meet and greet, and then we’ll get going.”
28
Libby
I’m staying in Knox’s suite tonight, in a different room, of course.
The hotel we’re staying in didn’t have any open rooms on his floor, and he insisted he didn’t want me that far away from him. It’s a two-bed, two-bath, so it would’ve been ridiculous for me to argue.
I’m relaxing on the couch in a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt when he walks in after doing his meet and greet. I usually go to those with him, but he said he was fine on his own tonight.
“Nice shirt,” he says when he sees me. “I look good on you.”
I chuckle, pulling at the bottom of the shirt and looking down at it. It’s one of his tour tees with his face on the front and all of the show dates are listed on the back. “These things are comfortable as hell. I could wear them every day.”
“Glad I’m also comfortable on you.” He whistles on the way to his room and turns back to look at me before shutting the door. “I’m going to hop in the shower real quick and then we’ll get going.”
“Where are we going?” I yell after him.
“It’s a surprise,” he shouts back. “You don’t always have to know every little detail, Graves.”
I frown. Oh yes, I do.
I watch TV, half-paying attention to it until he comes out wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt.
“I tried to find one with your face on it, but unfortunately, I don’t have one.” He tugs at the bottom of the shirt like I did with mine. “I think it’s only fair I get one.”
I get up from the couch. “I’ll get right on that, boss.”
I follow him out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
The door opens right into the hotel’s spa. I’d been eyeing the brochure this morning, and they offer some of the most extravagant services.
“My muscles are sore as hell,” he says, opening up the door for me. “I need a massage and figured you could keep me company. I tend to get bored during these things.”
A massage sounds damn good to me.
Two women are waiting for us in the empty lobby. They’re older, most likely the best employed here, considering it’s after hours. I’m sure Knox is going to be footing a nice bill for this.
“Hell
o Mr. Rivers and Ms. Graves,” one says. “I’m Sabrina.” She points to the other. “And this is Pat.” She hands us both a flute of bubbly champagne. “Would you like to soak before or after your massages?”
Knox glances over at me. I shrug.
“We’ll do after,” he answers.
“Great,” Sabrina says. “Follow me.”
We’re led down a narrow hallway and into a private room that’s dimly lit with candles. Side by side tables take up the majority of the space, and lavender and mint wither through the air. There’s no doubt this is a luxury spa.
Oh, how I’ve missed these.
Sabrina points to each side of the room. “There are two dressing rooms with robes for you. We’ll give you some time to change.”
We both nod, and they leave the room. Knox starts to head towards a dressing room, but I stop him.
“Don’t come out until I tell you to,” I say, causing him to whip around and give me a confused look. I let out a breath. “I’m obviously going to be naked underneath my robe. I’ll change, get on the bed and cover myself up, and then tell you when to come out.”
“So I can’t see you naked, but you can see me?” he draws out.
“I’ll cover my eyes up when it’s your turn.”
“You can look all you want. I don’t mind. I encourage it.”
He dips into the dressing room without another word, and I do the same. I strip out of my clothes and laugh to myself when I hang up my t-shirt. I never thought I’d be sporting anything with his mug on it.
The robe is warm and plush as I pull it over my shoulders and tie it around my waist. The room is empty when I walk back out. Thank God.
I drop the robe, hang it up, and tiptoe over to the table.
“Coast is clear!” I shout after I cover myself with the silky sheet.
The door flies open, and Knox comes out. His robe is loosely secured around his waist, giving me a glimpse of his muscular upper thighs. I gulp when he walks over to the hooks and drops it, giving me a full, beautiful view of his toned ass.
My mouth falls open. I want to look away. I need to look away, but I can’t.
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