Break The Bed (Rock Gods Book 2)

by Joanna Blake

  "Ow! Christ! Where's the damn champagne gone to?"

  Marley pointed to a table on the far side of the room. Nick walked over to it and swigged directly from the bottle. Then he spat it out, spraying the glass windows that overlooked the Pacific Ocean.

  "What is this piss water?"

  "Uh, looks like Dom Perignon, Nick."

  "I can bloody well read you twat. It tastes disgusting. It's not even cold. And where are the bloody bubbles?”

  He poured the rest of the bottle into a houseplant, an enormous palm that reached nearly to the ceiling.

  "There you go. Now I can fire the gardener. Look! I'm doing your job for you you cod wallops!"

  Marley was laughing at him. Marley always laughed when Nick got pissy. That's part of the reason Nick kept the prat around. Other than the whole blood relations business.

  One of the maids came in. He could never remember their real names but internally he called them Rolly Polly, Beanpole, and Mustache. This was the rolly one.

  He smiled at her charmingly. He was never rude to his staff. Everyone else, yes. But he actually respected women who supported their families through hard work and sweat.

  Just like his dear old mum.

  "Yes, my dear?"

  "Ms. Newton is here to see you Mr. Falcon."

  "Who?"

  Marley cleared his throat.

  "It's the new A&R girl from the label mate."

  Thank god Marley was actually good at something. He kept track of all this shite for Nick. Somebody had to.

  In return Nick paid him an absurd amount of money and took him everywhere with him. Sometimes, he even got him laid. There were always plenty of women to go around.

  "Ohhh right. Well, show her into the solarium please."

  He waved his arm magnanimously, deciding to be a good host to the pencil pusher. He despised pencil pushers. Especially those who tried to interfere with his music.

  "We're already in the solarium."

  "Right. Show her into the living room. And offer her something to drink if you don't mind. Oh and chilled champagne for me.”

  The cherubic looking little maid bobbed her head and left the room.

  "She's a good girl, that one."

  "She's new actually, Nick."

  "What? Don't tell me there are two Rolly Pollys now!"

  Marley was laughing too hard to answer him. Nick leveled a finger at his chest.

  "You're not drunk enough. Alright, come on and let's get this bloody over with. How the hell do I get to the living room from here?"

  Marley led the way through the sprawling ultra modern cliffside mansion. Nick had got it last year but this was only the second time he'd been here. After his last tour he'd spent a few months in the French Riviera and then stopped home to see his mum. Then he'd gone somewhere else… oh right, Dubai.

  That place was so sterilized it had made his brain hurt to look around. Like Vegas without strippers or gambling.

  Or booze.

  Where was the fun in that?

  They walked into an enormous room with floor to ceiling glass doors that opened onto a deck. All you could see was sea and sky. It was pretty nice actually, now that Nick looked around.

  "Not bad."

  Marley grinned at him.

  "Now, where is the bossy twat?"

  A small feminine gasp greeted him from behind the floating natural gas fireplace in the middle of the room.

  Damn, the bird must have heard him.

  He'd have to turn on the charm then, wouldn't he? Maybe then she'd stop sending all the demanding emails, never mind the daily phone calls.

  His old label rep had left him alone more or less. As long as the money kept rolling in, what did they care? Still, he'd better put on a happy face for the harpy.

  Time to act like a rock star for his adoring public. No woman stood a chance against ‘The Nick Falcon’ when he was in full effect. He'd tried to find one that did once on a whim. His quest for rejection had failed.

  Old, young, fit, ugly, even married women. They all seemed to fall at his feet. He never took the married ones up on it though.

  That was a bridge too far, even for him.

  And he was expected to service them all with his rock star prowess. He had to act like a manwhore. Otherwise, his reputation would start to slide. And with that, record sales.

  It was a bit of a nuisance sometimes if he was honest with himself, which he rarely was.

  He strode around the fireplace, oozing his public persona. His back was straight but his limbs were fluid. He knew how to work it. He'd better have after all these years.

  He pictured a hatchet faced middle-aged woman with a clipboard. Someone officious and pasty faced. He was wrong.

  Dead wrong.

  He turned the corner and froze. A girl was sitting on the enormous sectional, looking very nervous and very young. Pretty though. Cute as a button.

  Scratch that.

  She was bloody beautiful. Her long golden hair and high tits were his second impression. After that he saw her long toned legs. But first he saw her face.

  Jesus.

  This was his new A&R Rep? She looked straight out of school, not ready to handle an A-List star like him.

  But what a school it was.

  Her dark blue eyes widened as she saw him staring at her. She lifted her chin boldly and stood, her shoulders thrown back. The nervousness was gone.

  Suddenly, she looked like a CEO.

  Or a general preparing for war.

  A very, very alluring general. In fact, he realized with a start, he’d never seen anything so lovely in his life.

  But not a pushover apparently. He realized he'd already been contemplating getting her into bed. Today. Now. This instant.

  No need for the damn meeting. Just shagging, all day and all night. His cock was already hard, which was impressive considering how drunk he was.

  Christ, he felt like a teenager.

  But for the first time in years, he wasn't bored.

  Not at all.

  "Marley would you bring us some champagne out here. Two glasses."

  His cousin raised an eyebrow at him but he barely noticed. He was too busy mentally undressing the Goddess he saw before him. Now that she was standing, he could really see her body.

  Sweet Mary and Joseph.

  Nick had his share of beautiful women of course. Even professionally beautiful ones. Models, actresses, you know it. But this girl was something else. She was tiny for one thing. Short and sweet, just the perfect little package. And there was something regal in her bearing that reminded him of some of the Lords and Ladies he'd met when he'd been knighted.

  He felt a little less cocky at the thought. Out classed, just like the nobility back home in England made him feel. He always brazened that out, drinking himself silly at the fancy events he was often invited to.

  This girl made me him feel like that. Gave him a case of the jelly legs. But he pushed that aside. What did he have to be nervous about? He was a rock star and a knight of the bloody realm!

  But he was suddenly nervous, all the same.

  She stepped forward, extending her hand. No wedding ring. Good.

  He'd hate to break up someone's marriage. It wouldn't stop him for going after what he wanted but he'd feel at least a small twinge of guilt about it. Or not.

  His hand closed over her small soft hand and he smiled, oozing charm. She shook his hand firmly and pulled it back just as he was lifting it to his lips. Denied.

  "Mr. Falcon. I'm Sabrina Newton. I'm your new rep."

  "Yes, that's right. Marley told me about you. What happened to Wendell?"

  "He died."

  "Oh God. That's bloody awful. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

  She raised an eyebrow at him.

  "You sent an arrangement. To the funeral."

  "I did?"

  "Yes. It was lovely. His wife was thrilled."

  "Oh, good. That was bloody thoughtful of me."

  He
grinned at her cheekily but she just stared back, cool as a cucumber. He sighed and gestured to the low slung chairs near the open sliding glass doors. Maybe the ocean breeze would blow her skirt up a bit. He'd like that.

  He'd like it a lot.

  "Shall we?"

  She nodded.

  He settled into a chair facing her and threw his arms back. He was going to enjoy working with this Sabrina girl. He could tell already. He watched her sit and let his eyes wander all over her body.

  Christ, look at those tits!

  She cleared her throat and he lifted his eyes to her face with a sheepish smile. She was not amused. That was odd. Women usually swooned after being visually ogled by him.

  Well, they didn't always lose consciousness, but they were usually bloody thrilled at the attention!

  This girl was different sort of bird altogether.

  He smiled to himself, contemplating the young beauty before him.

  He was definitely having poultry for dinner tonight.

  Chapter 4

  Sabrina

  Sabrina held her thighs together tightly as she pulled the papers out of her briefcase. Her cheeks were getting hot. The man was already being impossible! He was staring at her like she was a stripper!

  The warm look in Nick Falcon’s eyes was unmistakable. He wanted her. And it was doing strange, tremulous things to her belly.

  She felt naked in front of him. He was lazily inspecting her body, pausing at the space where her legs met. As if he could see everything. She adjusted her skirt, tucking it firmly to her knees.

  He just smiled as if he knew what she was doing. Like he knew she was trying to cover herself. Trying to be modest under his illicit gaze.

  Damn him!

  He wasn't going to make this easy for her, she could already tell. If only he wasn't so handsome, with those high cheekbones and chiseled features…

  His dark hair was deliberately tousled, curling over his stormy green eyes. His body was insanely fit looking too, especially considering he must be inching towards his mid-thirties. Broad shoulders, long legs and a flat stomach. Never mind the talent and bazillion dollars, the man was movie star gorgeous on top of it.

  "You seem young to be taking on an A list client."

  "I am. I was also young when I finished business school."

  He smirked at her. She tilted her head and stared at him cooly.

  "Harvard Business School.”

  He raised his eyebrow and nodded, conceding her the point. She pulled out a stack of papers, not willing to miss a beat. She had to get this done, and leave.

  Before he got to her.

  Who was she kidding?

  He’d already gotten to her.

  "We should review your schedule. You have some promotional events to do before you leave, as well as several appearances at each stop on your tour."

  He leaned back, and waved his hand dismissively.

  "I don't do publicity. I don't have to."

  She rested her hands on her lap. Here we go. Clearly nobody had this talk with him yet.

  Thanks a lot, Wendell.

  "Mr. Falcon-"

  "Nick."

  He was smiling again, his gaze warm and inviting as it danced down her legs. It was a look that said ‘I’d like to lick your ankles.’

  She shivered, wondering what exactly it would feel like to have her ankles licked.

  Jesus, did the man ever stop oozing sex appeal?

  "Mr. Falcon, I am not sure you are aware but your advance ticket sales for this tour are-"

  She paused, unsure how to put this.

  "Not up to expectations."

  "So? People show up at the last minute. I’ve never not sold out a venue.”

  He was staring at her legs again, stroking his chin with one hand. He actually licked his lips a little bit. He looked completely unconcerned with anything other than what she looked like underneath her clothes.

  She should have been offended. And she was. But she was also, embarrassingly, very much aroused.

  "Are you prepared to play empty arenas?"

  He stared at her, surprise written all over his face. Surprise and a little bit of anger. Not a little. A lot.

  "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

  "It means, Mr. Falcon, that unless you do some publicity, more than half your tour will be cancelled."

  "You're joking."

  "No, I'm not. It's not your popularity that's waned, it's the economy. Particularly in Europe. They are simply not spending money on entertainment."

  He leaned forward, a markedly unpleasant look on his face.

  "Now you listen to me, miss. Music is not entertainment. It's life's fucking blood! Without music, there's nothing to stir the soul of the common man."

  She stared at him without reacting.

  "That was quite a speech, Mr. Falcon. But I'm afraid the numbers don't lie. If we don't do something, this tour will lose money instead of making it."

  "Call me Nick for Christ's sake! Jesus."

  At that moment, the scruffy blond man came back with a bucket of champagne and two glasses. He looked like a puppy, happy to be there and assuming the meeting was going well.

  It was not.

  "I brought champers!"

  Nick sat back in his seat and stared at her while the other man popped the cork. He filled two glasses and handed her one.

  "No, thank you, I don't drink."

  The man stared at her, agog. He was looking at her as if she was an alien. Or a talking dog.

  "What, never?"

  She smiled grimly. Apparently, everyone in their world drank constantly. Not her. She’d never touched a drop.

  "Exactly. Never.”

  His jaw dropped.

  "Marley."

  Hastily he handed Mr. Falcon the second glass and stood there confused for a moment before skulking away to sit on the other side of the room.

  She snuck a glance at Mr. Falcon again. He was watching her again as he lifted his champagne flute to his lips. He drank deeply, never taking his eyes from hers.

  "Give me the damn schedule then."

  She sighed in relief. They were too far apart to just hand it to him so she stood and walked it over to him. He smiled at her coldly as his eyes slid over her body. Again.

  Jesus, the man was a walking hormone!

  Sabrina found herself tottering on her heels for a second and cringed. The man had her that off balance. Literally.

  She handed him the paper and went back to her seat.

  He was still staring when she sat down again. He shook his head and finally focused on the piece of paper in his hand. He raised his eyebrows.

  "Marley, come and take a look at this."

  Marley trotted over and leaned down to see. Nick looked annoyed and waved it in the air.

  "Just take the bloody thing!"

  Marley grabbed the paper and stared at it, reading. Nick was back to staring at her.

  "I thought you didn't do this sort of stuff?"

  "I don't."

  "Sooo… what do you want me to do with it?"

  "Burn it."

  He was smiling at her, one corner of his mouth lifting skyward. He was mocking her. Treating her job like a joke. Making her feel like a little girl.

  Jerk.

  "Or wipe your ass with it. Up to you, mate."

  “Uh… right. Thank you?"

  Sabrina would have laughed at Marley’s bafflement if Nick wasn't being such a pain in the ass. She’d known before coming here that he might take offense at his lackluster concert sales but this was ridiculous. He was being a prima donna.

  "That's very entertaining Mr. Falcon but I have plenty of other copies."

  She smiled at him and waved a few other papers in the air. He narrowed his eyes at her. They were playing some sort of verbal tennis match. And she was winning.

  She hoped so anyway.

  "It doesn't matter. I won't do them."

  "Mr. Falcon, I am willing to go to bat
for you with the label if you do even just a few of these promotional events. Can we compromise that way?"

  He leaned forward suddenly, his hands on his knees.

  "I'll tell you what sweetheart. I'll do one promotional event per city, of my choosing."

  She let out a big sigh of relief.

  "If…” The word hung in the air, hovering dangerously. “You'll let me rub my wang all over your tits."

  For a moment she didn’t react. She couldn’t. Then her jaw dropped.

  The pig! What a disgusiting pig!

  Actually, that was an insult to pigs!

  "What? I promise to be a good boy. But only if…”

  She took a deep breath and stuffed her papers into her briefcase. She had to get out of here. She closed her eyes, fighting back tears. Then she stood stiffly.

  "Good day Mr. Falcon. Mr. - Marley."

  Nick didn’t bat an eye as she left. Marley followed her to the door, looking contrite. She was still choking back tears as she practically ran out of the house.

  She ran towards her car as if her life depended on it.

  No one spoke to her like that! No one!

  She fumbled with her keys, finally opening her car door. Inside she could not fight back the tears any more. Great heaving sobs erupted from her chest. Not dainty, tiny ones.

  Big tears and ugly crying. She was a joke. Not a success as she’d imagined just a few hours ago. A failure!

  He'd humiliated her! How was she supposed to explain this to her boss? She couldn’t. Not really. She was going to have to lie. Slink back to the B-List artists she’d managed so far.

  At least none of them would threaten to defile her!

  She turned on the car just as a Nick Falcon song came on the radio. One of his older, better tunes. She stared at it for half a heartbeat and then smashed her entire hand down onto the button, making it fall to the floor.

  Great. One more thing ruined by Nick Falcon.

  Chapter 5

  Nick

  He stood on the balcony, downing another glass of champagne. He was seriously considering taking his wang out and waving it at the world. That’s how frustrated he was.

  And aroused.

  "She's crying."

  Nick turned to see his cousin standing mopishly behind him. A pang went through him. A pang he immediately squashed.