9781488051265

by Reverb (epub)

  Adrian must have noticed. During one pause he leaned over. “Kinda intense, isn’t it?” His voice was a low murmur.

  David nodded. “If this is how they are in private...”

  “...just wait.” Adrian’s grin was toothy. It slipped into profound when he gazed at the band. “They own the stage when they’re on it.”

  David believed that.

  Mish...she was a force of nature. The way she played and danced on those shoes of hers...even with all his training, David wouldn’t want to go toe to toe with someone that agile. Her legs were stellar, too.

  He grunted and looked down at the floor. Don’t get interested. Don’t get attached. Stay objective. He’d heard of so many jobs going sideways when emotions got involved. Didn’t want it to ever happen to him.

  Wasn’t going to be easy. He liked these people already, which was unusual for a loner like him. Found himself warming to Mish...and fuck, was she an amazing woman. Maybe it was fine to enjoy the sights and sounds. Safe to let down his guard a bit here, even with the lax building security. Only one door in and out, and that was in his line of sight.

  Everything was fine.

  When Twisted Wishes finished and were putting away their instruments for the night, David rose and joined Ray. “You know, your manager might want to talk to the building security tomorrow.” He tried to keep his tone light.

  Ray’s head whipped up. “Why?”

  Well, maybe David had missed the mark with trying to play that down. The others paused, seemingly sensing Ray’s apprehension. They were tuned in to each other. Had to be.

  David gave a small shrug. “Fans know you’re here. Plus they’re doing some work on the floor below this one. I got in through an open door and no one stopped me. Security never saw me.” There hadn’t been any cameras in the stairs or halls.

  “Well, shit,” Ray said. “That’s not good.”

  “It’s fucking stupid.” Mish marched over. “Last thing we need is a riot when someone else figures that out.” She turned her sights on David. “And you didn’t bother mentioning this before now?”

  “I was keeping an eye on the door. Besides, the sites say you’ve been playing here for five days. If they were gonna come in, they would have. Your fans seem decent about boundaries.”

  “Unlike the paparazzi,” Dom said. He rolled his shoulders. “I hate those guys.”

  “I doubt the paps would risk trespassing.” David paused. “Well, maybe they would, but I’m guessing you guys wouldn’t be too kind if they showed up.”

  Ray grunted. “I’ll talk to Marcella. She’ll get it cleared up.”

  “What about my stalker?”

  Mish’s words froze David. They hadn’t applied that term to the guy, but it was accurate. “I don’t think he’d come up here, since he’s not shown his face to you.” He waved off any other questions. “Let me give you what we have, then we can talk theories.”

  Mish huffed. “Okay, fine. But I want all of it, David.”

  “All that I have,” he said. “And like I said, I was watching the door.”

  A small smile formed on Mish’s lips. “Not all the time, you weren’t.”

  For the second time that day, David felt the heat of embarrassment touch his cheeks.

  “Still wanna walk me home, honey?”

  His voice was as dry as his mouth. “Would be a delight, darling.” He held out his arm for her. “Shall we?”

  Laughter danced in her eyes, and her smile did nothing to quell the warmth in his gut or the stiffness of his cock. Fuck. She took his arm. “Lead on, Mr. Altet.”

  They walked out of the studio to the smiles and amused looks of the rest of Twisted Wishes.

  When they got into the elevator, Mish patted his arm. “You realize if we walk out into the street like this, your face will be all over the internet within thirty seconds?”

  “My face is gonna be all over the internet anyway, given how much time I’ll be spending with the band.” They reached the ground floor and stepped out, still arm in arm. He pulled her to a stop before they got within view of the outside world. “Question is, do you want them to think I’m your latest boy toy?”

  She made a sour face. “I have a feeling you’re no one’s toy.”

  David couldn’t help the chuckle. “Oh, I can be. But only in private, and off the job.”

  Her penetrating stare pinned him. “That’s interesting to know.” Her lips slid into a smile. “Too bad you’re on the job.”

  Yeah, but the job was a hell of a lot safer than being a rock star’s boy toy. “You think I’m trouble?”

  That got him a laugh before she disentangled from him. “You know, I was dreading this, but you’re fun, David.”

  “I try,” he said. “And I know perfectly well you can handle yourself, but it doesn’t hurt to have someone watching your back.”

  Oh, the wickedness in her grin. “I don’t think it’s just my back you’re watching.” She headed toward the front doors.

  He was trying very hard not to watch her ass and legs. Failing, too. He grunted to himself and followed her into the street. As he expected, there were some shouts and several fans headed in Mish’s direction. He slipped on his sunglasses and caught up with her. “You planning on signing for the fans?”

  “Yeah, I always do,” she said.

  Which left her exposed to the cameras that appeared around her. He held back the sigh, though. Given all he knew about Twisted Wishes, suggesting Mish bypass the fans wouldn’t be taken well. So he crossed his arms and stayed close enough to intervene, but far enough away to scope out the crowd.

  Mish chatted and laughed as she signed whatever the fans asked her to, except for the one guy who wanted his arm signed for a tattoo.

  “I’m sorry.” She dropped her shoulders. “Weirds me out to have my signature on someone permanently, you know?”

  Poor dude looked dejected. Had to be in his early twenties—still had a bit of baby face to him.

  She bumped his arm with her fist. “Besides, it’s the whole band, you know? I’m just a part.”

  “Yeah, but my favorite part.” He paused. “What if I got, like, a high heel and a bass guitar?”

  Her cheeks ruddied. “As long as you’re sure that’s what you want. Give it a bit before you decide?”

  “Yeah...okay.” Puppy-dog eyes. David bit his tongue to keep from laughing.

  Couple of people wanted selfies, and Mish obliged. A few more signatures and the fans were all taken care of. But the paparazzi had moved in with their calls of “Mish, Mish, sweetheart!”

  Mish rolled her eyes and joined David. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “That your boyfriend, Mish?” one called out, a smarmy edge to his voice.

  “My bodyguard,” she called back. “So fuck off.” She marched away on those glorious legs of hers, heading toward the nearest subway station.

  Well, guess that was out in the open. David caught up, lengthening his own strides to match hers. “I suppose that makes us official.”

  She glanced his way. “Guess so.”

  They took the stairs down into the station, swiped their Metro cards and headed to a platform that would take them uptown. Only then did she speak again. “Honestly, I trust Ray. And if Adrian is freaked out, too...” She sighed and pulled her curls off her neck. “Fucking hate when the stations are this humid.”

  “Summer in the city,” he said. “And feel free to use me as interference. That’s why I’m here.”

  Her grin was wicked. “So, you’ll save those fuckers from getting their noses punched if they get too close?”

  He shrugged and smiled back.

  “You’re not a man of many words, are you?”

  Now, that was an interesting assessment. “I can be, but I usually let the clients set the tone.”

 
He scanned the platform, but everyone was doing that New York thing where you ignored the rest of the world. Except for that one guy by the stairs.

  “Also, if I get too chatty, I might miss something.” Like that photog trying to get closer. “We’ve got a straggler from the paps.”

  Mish closed her eyes briefly. “Every time. Thin bald guy with a DSLR that you could probably kill someone with?”

  David met Mish’s gaze. Oh yes, she could take care of herself. Aware. Probably had contingency plans. He’d done similar years ago. Keys through the fingers and everything. “Yup.”

  “He’ll get on the train with me—us—and follow me home. Harmless but fucking annoying.”

  So she’d assessed the threat. A tiny piece of him wanted to scream that the world was unfair to do this to her, but he knew that viscerally. Nothing ever changed.

  When the train came, it was as Mish said. Overcompensating DSLR Dude got on with them, found his way to their car, and stayed on.

  It was too crowded with the end of the business day to sit, so they stood until Mish tapped David on the shoulder. “My stop.”

  He’d known that, but kept it to himself. All of the addresses of the band members were public record. Made him itch, but people—even stars—couldn’t live in bubbles. And New Yorkers were generally good about leaving them the fuck alone.

  Except for people like DSLR Dude, who followed them up to the street. Probably got some good photos of him and Mish walking, too. Well, David had known when he said yes to Ray Van Zeller that this job would come with lenses trained on him.

  “Snap, snap, fucking snap,” Mish muttered.

  “I could have a conversation with him.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve had one. He doesn’t care. They pay him to get photos of my lovers, which—” She came to a dead stop on the sidewalk. “You know what really ticks me off about that?”

  Her voice was louder now, probably for the benefit of the dude following them. David played along. “What bothers you about it?”

  “He’s gotten photos of me with my tongue down the throats of people of multiple genders, and they still pull the whole ‘is she straight or not’ shit on those sites.” She turned to stare at the photog. “I’m so so so not straight.”

  Man had the decency to look uncomfortable.

  David laughed to cover up the heat in his body at the image of Mish lip-locked with another. “That has to be fucking annoying.”

  “You have no idea.” She continued walking down the sidewalk until they came to an older, high-end apartment building, complete with doorman. “Hey, Lorenzo,” she said as they reached the gentleman, who opened the door for them.

  “Miss Sullivan.” There was a twinkle in his eyes when Mish rolled hers, but her smile said this was a friendly interaction.

  “This is David. He’s working with the band, so if he stops by, he’s fine.”

  Lorenzo looked David up and down and raised an impeccable black eyebrow. Well, only one thing to do. David stuck out his hand. “David Altet.”

  After they shook, he dug out his wallet and offered his business card.

  “Private security.” Lorenzo rubbed a gloved hand over his clean-shaven face. “Watching over Miss Sullivan?”

  “Well, the band in general, but yes.”

  Lorenzo handed his card back. “Best if you let the security desk know.”

  “Yeah, I will. Thanks, Lorenzo.” Mish nodded at the building. “Let’s go.”

  Once inside, David stripped off his sunglasses and tucked them in his shirt.

  The movement seemed to catch Mish’s eye, and she gave him a smile that was—he didn’t know. Friendly. Flirty. Something. David pushed it aside.

  They stopped at the security desk. A card, a handshake, and Mish’s explanation garnered David another once-over. The woman behind the desk was pleasant and proficient, and kept the card. After she noted his name in a log, he and Mish headed to the elevators.

  “Whole thing is key fob controlled. Can’t get to my floor if you don’t live there.” Mish pulled her keys out and jingled them, showing off a small black fob. “And they don’t let anyone up unless I give them permission, or I come down to get them.”

  Not bad security. Load off David’s mind, at least until they hit the road. “Pretty good, for an older building.”

  “Yeah. It’s one of the reasons I chose it.”

  The elevator was also older, but smooth, and when they were deposited on Mish’s floor, it closed quietly and slid on its way. There were only three other apartments. Given the size of the building, Mish’s had to be downright spacious. And indeed, it was. They entered into a small foyer that led into a sizable living room, complete with terrace. Potted plants swayed gently in the breeze.

  A jolt of envy ran through David. He made good money for what he did—but nothing like the amount Mish must have to afford a place like this.

  He must not have hidden his feelings that well, because Mish twisted her lips. “Yeah, I know. It’s huge, especially for one person. And yeah, it cost a lot.”

  “I didn’t...” He caught himself. There was remorse, not mocking in Mish’s tone. “You’re a star. If you can afford it, you can afford it. Why not?”

  “I can afford it because Ray nearly died, and sometimes...” She tossed her keys on the coffee table by the couch. “Sometimes it’s a reminder of that. Of everything.”

  There was more than the troubles with their former band manager and label in that statement.

  “From what I’ve seen of Ray Van Zeller, I don’t think he’d be upset that you spent some of your settlement on a nice place to live.”

  She ran a hand through her curls, teasing out one stubborn copper strand. “No, he loves this place. Practically begged me to buy it, since it was, as he put it, ‘so me.’”

  David didn’t know Mish well enough to assess whether that was correct, but given the length of time Mish and Van Zeller had been bandmates—probably was. Despite its vibrant colors and interesting combination of old and modern furnishings, the place was soothing, and that did describe Mish Sullivan.

  She waved at the couch. “Anyway, have a seat. I’m gonna get that glass of something stronger you recommended. Want anything?”

  Yeah. An evening off the job with the woman before him, but that wasn’t going to happen. He took a seat on the couch. “Just a glass of water, if it’s not much trouble.”

  “None at all.” Her smile was bright and warm, like the golden light filtering in through the windows. He hoped that smile would still appear after he showed her exactly why he was in her living room.

  * * *

  The kitchen was a solace for Mish. She needed to catch her breath and get her head screwed on straight.

  That fucking photographer. At least David hadn’t panicked at her being followed, but she hated it. Hated it so much, even if it was the guy’s job to get photographs of her.

  Mish pressed her palms into the marble of the counter and counted to ten, letting the cool, smooth surface ease the jagged edges of her mind.

  This was the side of being in Twisted Wishes that made her want to spend her days in bed sometimes. Mostly, people were good. Fans were great—appreciative, respectful, full of life. She lived for those interactions, the ones that mattered.

  She loathed being clickbait.

  Her hand still ached from the attack and practicing, and now David Altet was in her living room about to tell her about a fucking internet stalker. She didn’t need this. The only thing that made it remotely okay was that David seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.

  And those shoulders were damn nice, along with the rest of him.

  She blew out a breath. Don’t even go there. The trash sites probably already had him listed as her latest fling and the whole “well, maybe she’s straight!” shit would start again. Ever since Ray
and Zavier had hooked up and then with Dom’s love affair with Adrian spread around the internet, everyone was into her business and waiting for her to pick a partner.

  She rolled out her shoulders and arms, headed to the cabinet that contained her liquor, and pulled out a glass and a bottle of Elijah Craig bourbon. Maybe the shit that was coming wouldn’t throw her that much, but the rest of the day had. A finger of bourbon was enough—being drunk wasn’t on her list of plans for the foreseeable future. Too many bad memories there. Her mother’s exes. Her absent father. Kevin, their former drummer.

  She grabbed another glass and filled it with water from a pitcher in the fridge, then headed back in to hear whatever it was that’d dragged David into her living room rather than a perfectly acceptable bar.

  When she entered, David was running his elegant finger over the reproduction of a Byzantine mosaic she’d had set into the center of the coffee table, his dark eyes focused on the path his finger took over the bird’s body. His movements were simple, but something about them flipped heat in her stomach and had her body at attention. Maybe the care he took, maybe the intensity. His hands and wrists were thin, almost delicate, despite his height—five-nine wasn’t anything to sneeze at, regardless of her earlier comments.

  When the wooden floor creaked beneath her feet, he looked up, a smile gracing his lips.

  She liked his smile, that touch of bad-boy coupled with honest warmth. Didn’t do anything to calm her nerves.

  Shit, she needed to get laid. Or at least spend some quality time with her vibrator.

  “Like the design?”

  He nodded. “It’s Byzantine, yes?”

  Interesting that he would know that. “Yeah, one that’s on display in a museum in Thessaloniki.”

  “You Greek?”

  She shook her head. “Just love the art. Zavier nearly stole the table from me the first time he saw it, though.” She eyed David. “You?”

  “Part of my family’s from Spain, the other part is Eastern European.” He leaned back on the couch. “I grew up with a love of icons, mosaics, and incense.”