Runaway Girl (Runaway Rockstar Series Book 1)

by Anne Eliot

  “Whatever!” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “And wherever. But with much more set-up than what we almost did, for what is supposed to be one of my most meaningful and epic life events. Okay?” Another half-hysterical laugh escapes me as he nods. “That was about to be a zero-love, on the floor of a closet, sex with an almost stranger, pressed into a whole pile of smelly man-shoes, regret-fest.”

  “Regret fest…” He nods, and he’s looking at me so oddly again, and I could swear he’s gone pale under that golden skin of his.

  “So you agree. On the regrets?”

  “Yes. Of course. I…have… regrets.”

  I try to nod just as confidently as he did, hoping he can’t see through my mask, because if I’m being completely honest, the regret I’m feeling right now has nothing to do with what just happened and has everything to do with how we didn’t keep on kissing!

  I busy myself with trying, then failing, to wind my damp tangled hair up into knotted bun. Just when I think I’ve got it, it all flops out to roll instantly down my back into a long mess again.

  When the silence between us stretches out too long, or maybe it’s when his damn silver-icy-hot eyes feel like they’re about to finally burn my skin, he turns away and places his forehead against the wall and pounds it there a couple of times. “What the hell is wrong with me?” He asks, but he’s not talking to me, he’s talking to himself. “After countless promises to the guys, Gregory, and my own grandmother, I just made out with the jailbait nanny, who apparently is also a virgin. Do you understand, that where you’re concerned, I am now going to hell. Straight to hell.”

  When the baby monitor goes off as the baby turns and squeaks one of her adorable little half cries, then settles again, he turns back.

  “Straight to, hell,” he only repeats, shaking his head.

  My heart tightens as I come all the way back to reality—his and mine. “Um…how about how I’m going straight to hell, too? I made out with the boss. I’m a cliché, nanny home-wrecker! There’s a whole crappy movie genre about girls who did what I just did. Worse, I’ve betrayed a baby girl who I love and now I’ve hurt the baby’s mommy. A girl who’s probably counting on you to make things right by her. A girl who’s counting on me to not…suck.” I look down at the floor. “Please don’t tell anyone? Mrs. Felix or Gregory especially, because they would be so disappointed in me. And please don’t fire me. Okay? I’m supposed to get paid Friday and, I know you have every right not to pay me now, I know that. But I really need that money. It’s wrong what I did. You’ve got a kid and an unresolved baby-mom situation going on—so—again—I’m so-so very—”

  “Don’t you dare apologize to me again. It’s wrong what I did. I knew it was you and it was so wrong. Okay?”

  Nodding, like I agree so we can end this conversation, I turn to leave when this gorgeous, all-legs, perfect hair, and super-curvy girl, one who I don’t recognize wanders into the entryway where we’re standing. But she hasn’t come in from the main door.

  She came in from Royce’s back bedroom suite!

  She’s wearing this shiny black dress that’s so tight, strapless, and small that I could swear she made it by stitching together two washcloth-sized pieces of see-through shiny fabric and inching it onto her body.

  “There you are, Royce.” She gives me a glare, but keeps her voice all sultry. “I was waiting in your bed. Adam told me that would be the best place to surprise you. He even gave me the key.” She giggles. “But you took too long, so surprise.”

  “Adam? He did? Well. Shit. I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “He said you’d be so surprised,” she purrs out.

  Royce’s eyes go wild again, and he gives me a panicked look that I think is telling me not to panic, before calming his expression and layering on the charm for this girl. “Call me surprised, yes, I am. But, hello there, beautiful.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say, because I did wait for a very long time.” She licks her pouting lips. “Way too long, but…then you never came. That’s when I heard you here in the closet with this one.” The girl flicks me this scathing, judgmental, but also jealous glare. “I’m not into doing any sort of kinky threesome. I’m also tired of waiting for you two to come out, so I’m going to go. Or…” Her eyes snake over me again, like she finds me lacking. “Or I guess if you’re done slumming you could call me to come back later?” She wrinkles her nose at me. “After you shower, of course. I left my number on your pillow.”

  “Wow.” I shake my head at the girl.

  “Don’t act all upset,” she says, staring at me and scrunching her nose like I smell bad. “You had your turn.”

  “Oh, I’m not upset. Just amazed.”

  “So am I,” Royce’s voice stays sexy-low-rumbling, but his eyes have turned deadly. “Can you tell me again, how did you get in here?”

  She giggles again. “I met Adam Marcus yesterday on his way to the limo. He was all tipsy and so adorable. I offered to hook up with him, but he told me you needed someone like me. Told me where to go and when to come up here. He even gave me his own special lanyard to show to security so I could get up the elevator and so I got right in, no problem. Look.” She pulls it out from her shiny purse.

  “Oh yes. Look at that.” Royce’s entire body has gone rigid, so I can tell he’s freaked, but with a very straight face, Royce gently takes it out of her hand.

  “Hey,” she pouts, trying to reach for it back. “He said I could keep it.”

  “I’ll get you a special one of your own, with your name on it.” Royce pockets the lanyard. “Our Adam, he’s going to need this one for the show tonight.” Royce manages what looks like a molar-cracking smile. “Which reminds me, I’ve got to get ready, ladies. I think we’re done here for now. Can I escort you both out?”

  The girl pouts more as Royce shoots me a wink that I think says play along, something’ that’s really hard to do when all I want to do is punch him. “I’d let you help me get ready,” he says, stroking his hand up the new girl’s arm, before tossing me another look, “but she took everything out of me.”

  I gasp. “Oh. My. God. Did you say that, really? You are the worst person alive. Aren’t you?”

  Royce nods. “As long as you remember that about me, and not any of the other stuff. Deal?”

  “What other stuff did you two do?” Misunderstanding, the girl stamps her foot. “Oh, do I want some of that other stuff to remember, too. It’s not fair. Not fair at all. This was supposed to be my turn.”

  It’s all I can do not to put my finger down my throat and gag at this girl. Ew. Ew.

  As if Royce can read my mind, he reaches over and pulls the girl under his arm. “Don’t be jealous, gorgeous. I have to save some of myself for the stage. I’ll get you a special VIP backstage pass with your name printed on it for tonight to make up for this mix-up, though. You can hang out after the show. There’s also going to be special front row seats for you. I’ll give you the works, baby. How about that for other stuff to remember. You give me your name and cell, and I’ll be sure you’re on the will-call list. Arrive early, okay?”

  “Aw. Really? That’s so nice. Okay.” She gives me another scathing glare, clearly not completely pleased with the consolation-prize he’s offered her.

  He winks at her and, I can’t help myself, I blurt out one, loud, “Ew.”

  But like he didn’t hear me, he’s whispering stuff deep into her ear, calling her so pretty and telling her thanks for coming up while stroking her cheek with the back of his hand—with the same hand that he used to stroke my cheek while he says, “I’ll walk you out personally. You know, we don’t usually let any girls up here at all. You’re lucky.”

  The girl flips her hair and then glares between me and Royce. “But then…why was this girl up here?”

  Royce answers, “Her? She’s on the payroll.”

  Misunderstanding again, the girl twists her lips and opens her eyes wide at me. “Oh my God. You sleep with all of them? You stay
up here?”

  I’m shaking my head about to go off when I notice that Royce’s face has paled, like he might regret what he’s said. Worse, I wonder if he thinks I’m going to clarify that I’m the nanny for a baby that no one knows about.

  Instead, I do just what my nondisclosure agreement said I’m supposed to do should anyone question me about why I’m here. I don’t disclose. I only shrug and shake my head, waiting for Royce to fix this.

  Before he can say anything, the girl slides up to Royce again saying, “You’ve got all of these extra suites up here. I could move in, too. You won’t even have to pay me. And look at me compared to her. Time for an upgrade?”

  The girl’s expression changes from pure hatred to one that’s like she’s earned a whole new respect for me as she asks, “They say Royce is like the crystal meth of sex. One time is all you need to become addicted. I’ve heard girls need therapy after they’ve been with him, because no other guy measures up—and I mean in every way.” She moves her pencil drawn brows up and down. “Truth? Or lies?”

  “Truth. I do need therapy. So much therapy, and I need it right now. And yes, it’s all because of Royce Devlin,” I answer, my comment gaining a small laugh out of Royce.

  “Okay. Well. Let’s not get too personal with any details, okay?” Royce says as he turns into some sort of ninja and manages to disentangle himself from the girl’s roving hands while steering her in the direction of the door by pushing her ahead of him. “Please know the VIP pass doesn’t mean things are going to happen between us as a guarantee. But it does mean I think you’re a really beautiful and a dedicated fan who went the extra mile to help out the band—and—”

  Startling both of us, the girl pulls a 180, latches a hand on Royce’s crotch and whispers, “I’m begging you, Royce. Just a few minutes with this.” She jerks her hand hard and he flinches. “It’s all I need. You’re the only Grammy winner from this year I haven’t slept with yet.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. And it’s a real laugh. Because for the first time ever, Royce looks shocked, embarrassed, and horrified all at once. Finally, he says, “No time, baby. No time.”

  Like it’s not a big thing that she just groped someone and begged to spend time with their body part (as it’s obvious she’s not interested in anything inside Royce’s head) the girl pouts, releases his crotch and grabs her phone out of her purse saying, “I almost forgot. Can we do a selfie, Royce? At least one for all of my wasted time up here?”

  Royce reaches out, tugs a long lock of her over-sprayed hair, and manages to deflect the photographs she’s trying to take. “How about one by the elevator? Not here. It’s too dark.”

  My stomach feels like it’s a rolling mass of twisting eels. I’m so disgusted by this girl and the way Royce hasn’t yelled at her or anything for how she’s acting, but I cover it by stalking around them both. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just get what I came in here for…”

  There’s no un-awkward way to do this, so I square my shoulders and head back inside the closet with the last shreds of my pride. I immediately trip on the discarded jacket and cashmere sweater. I have no memory of how or when these items slipped out of my hands. No memory of that at all. But if an art teacher asked me to sketch the exact planes of each muscle on the front and back of Royce’s amazingly cut torso—even though all of what happened went down in the dark—well, that I could easily remember every bit.

  I stumble back out, gritting my teeth as hard as I can and say, “I’ll be keeping these items indefinitely, if you don’t mind,” Flipping my tangles out of my face, making sure to keep my voice cold and impersonal.

  “Yes. Sure. Please—” Those glinting, impossible devil’s eyes rake over me as though he’d like to say way more.

  Well so would I, starting with: You’ve won. I hate you, Royce Devlin!

  “And thanks for the fun.” He winks.

  “Smile!” The brunette holds up her phone, again trying to snap selfies. Royce expertly ducks to avoid each and every shot as he propels her out of his room.

  I have no other choice but to traipse awkwardly along behind them, because running ahead would just make it all worse. At the end of the hallway, he pushes the brunette toward the elevator.

  She glances back at me, glaring even more. “How come I don’t get to have a jacket or something from your closet?”

  Rolling my eyes, I turn and head back into the quiet nursery.

  I hear his sexy, teasing voice call out loudly in a way that lets me know he wants me to hear his answer: “Plain and simple. She earned that stuff, but you…well…you didn’t. Yet.”

  “Yet.” She giggles. “But I will.”

  Leaning on the wall just inside the nursery door, I’m upset with myself when his chuckle sets off a new round of shivers down my spine, even though he’s not chuckling with me.

  “Okay,” he says. “Fine. For you only, because you’re so beautiful, I’ll agree to a couple. But only once we’re inside the elevator.”

  A couple of what? Is he kissing her now?

  The girl peals out a bunch of twittering, breathless giggles. “Oh, look at us being all cute in these. Best selfies ever taken for my Instagram.”

  Royce chuckles again, and the girl’s voice goes all baby-talk disgusting as she says, “I’ll tweet you this so you can follow me back on all platforms, ‘kay?”

  “Kay,” Royce answers, copying her voice.

  “And I’ll be backstage waiting tonight. Don’t forget me there.”

  “Who could forget you?”

  “Not me,” I mutter to myself.

  I hear the elevator doors close, and after a long pause, enough time to ensure the elevator is long gone, Royce thankfully does not come into the baby’s room to restart a conversation with me. Instead, from far across the penthouse I hear muffled door slamming, and then, “Adam! Goddamn you, Adam. Where the hell are you?”

  The baby makes a little sound, and when I walk over to her crib, my heart breaks in half when she smiles up at me, happy as usual. Because…yeah. Poor little baby. Her life sucks, her dad sucks, and now her nanny sucks, too. So much for me wondering if her dad was the kind of person who had honor, when in fact I’ve also got none! I’ve lowered myself to Royce’s level.

  Lower.

  Putting my fingers over my kiss-bruised lips, I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You deserve so much better,” I mutter.

  When the baby laughs next, moisture crowds the edges of my eyes. “What have I done?”

  Chapter 30

  For the rest of the day, I managed to avoid Royce by hiding out in the baby’s room assembling one of the strollers so I can take the baby around the patio again before I go home.

  I’ve long since given up on trying to justify what happened. I’ve even come to terms with the fact that I crossed to the dark side. I suck. I’m repulsive. I’m not even original, because how may nannies-to-the-stars before me have been home wrecking, horrible people?

  So. Many. That’s how many!

  Like it might help, I again wipe at my lips with the back of my arm. I’ve done it so many times I think I’ve chapped them. With the baby happily playing under her little baby gym, I tiptoed out and asked the security guard if he knew of any paper or pens I could borrow to make a list.

  The guard directed me to a huge stack of Moleskine brand notebooks that the guard said the guys used for writing songs or ‘group meetings’ they always hold in the living room. I got a pack of these sketchbooks for Christmas last year, but they weren’t leather like these, they were this paper coated cardboard. I really love them because, well, real artists use them all the time for sketching, and they’ve got this sewn spine so they lie flat while you’re working. They’ve also got this cool string-ribbon bookmark and the paper they use on the insides is always cream colored, thick and awesome.

  The stack of books reminds me of the over-purchased baby stuff I’d found on day one. It’s like someone had been given a similar order to go buy these, b
ut then the shopper had gone out and bought way too many plus half of an office supply store pen-and pencil section to go with them. There were sharpies, and pencils, G2 Pens, colored pencils and colored pens of every sort. Hoping no one would mind, I took one notebook and a pack of fine point Sharpies with me back to the nursery.

  Settling back in next to the baby I stare at the open sketchbook while trying to make myself feel better. Better about myself and better about the kiss by repeating to myself over and over: “Royce is not your actual employer. You don’t work for him, so technically you did not make out with your employer; you only kissed a family member of your employer. You’re not a bad person. A weak person, maybe, but not bad.”

  Though it doesn’t quite delete my dying inside feeling, it does flood my head with words other than the ones Royce whispered to me while we were kissing. It also helps to erase the constant replays of how Royce’s lips felt against mine—as in how amazing they felt.

  How hot and soft and muscled his skin felt under my hands—

  “No!” I say, out loud so the words inside my head will quiet. The baby jumps a little and I laugh at her surprised expression. Ever forgiving, she giggles back at my laughter as I say, “This could have happened to anyone, right?” I sigh, deciding to sketch the baby’s sweet face so I don’t have to picture Royce’s sharp planes and the curves of his lips in my mind’s eye anymore.

  She’s cooing and kicking her legs, and because she seems to always like the sound of my voice I start talking to her like I always do. “What’s next for me, little baby? Do you think what happened in there was like one of those awakening moments you hear about? Will it start off a string of one-night stands? Or do you think what happened was a one-time reaction to a guy who obviously knows how to make a girl swoon? I’m sure that’s what it was.”

  I lean back against the rocking chair, bringing the sketch book up to my knees. “This conversation would be much better if I knew your name. You know?”