Rock Me: A Billionaire Romance (Billionaires, Brides and Babies Book 1)

by dos Anjos, Maria

  With all my heart, I tried to enjoy myself, but it wasn’t easy. For a moment, I would be carried away by the music. Then the reality of the situation flooded over me, and I felt sick to my stomach.

  By the time the opening act finished, my ears were ringing. The house lights came back on as the roadies prepared the stage for the main act. I turned to Jeff. “I have something to tell you,” I shouted.

  “Later,” he said. “I’m going out for a cigarette.” He raced into the crowd, leaving me sitting there with a used and soggy pregnancy test in my purse.

  I unzipped my purse and looked inside, hoping that the plus sign had been my imagination. It was still there. I sighed. If anything, the color blue looked more vibrant than ever.

  Jeff returned to the seat next to mine at the last possible second before Angelchance took the stage. There was no way we were going to talk now.

  I tried to enjoy the performance, and it almost worked. Every few minutes, I would go from euphoria to panic and then back again until the final encore was over.

  A big security guard muscled his way into the front row next to me, making it impossible for me to move. He pulled an all-access pass from his pocket and put it over my head. “One of the boys in the band wants to get to know you better,” he said.

  My hand went to my chest and touched the plastic rectangle hanging from my neck on a lanyard. “I can’t,” I said.

  “Is this your friend?” The security guard gestured at Jeff and held another all-access pass aloft in his big hand.

  Jeff nodded his head. His eyes gleamed.

  “No,” I said. “He’s not my friend. I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

  The security guard pocketed the second pass. “Right this way,” he said. As the security guard let me through the crowd, I looked over my shoulder at Jeff and smiled sweetly.

  He was staring after me with a look of disappointment on his face that would have been more suited to a pre-teen girl missing a chance to meet Justin Bieber than a thirty-something lawyer watching his former lover walk away to meet his favorite band.

  I turned around one last time. “I’m pregnant,” I mouthed exaggeratedly.

  “What the fuck?” he mouthed back.

  I lost sight of him as I disappeared into the crowd. I wasn’t sure whether his reaction was due to him reading my lips, or due to the thought that I would be meeting his favorite band while he drove home to his wife.

  The security guard and I were swimming against the current as we made our way backstage, but the big man had a talent for dividing the departing crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea. He pulled me along with him, nearly making me stumble several times on my high heels.

  We finally reached our destination, a smoke-filled room that held a variety of sweating men and scantily clad girls who were all clamoring to meet their favorite band member.

  The thought of meeting a celebrity was exciting even though I wasn’t actually the world’s biggest Angelchance fan. That honor definitely belonged to Jeff. What a douchebag, I thought.

  “Stay here,” the security guard ordered. “Have something to drink. I’ll call you when Dominic is ready.”

  So, it was Dominic Angelchance himself who wanted to meet me. Jeff would shit a brick if he ever found out.

  I self-consciously sucked in my stomach. It had been only a matter of hours since I’d discovered I was pregnant, and I was already convinced that I was the size of a house.

  A hand grabbed me from behind, and a voice whispered low in my ear. “Come on. Dominic is waiting for you.”

  Chapter Four

  I followed obediently until we reached Dominic Angelchance’s dressing room. “Here you go,” the security guard said. He led me inside and then swiftly departed, leaving the two of us in the room alone with the door closed. I didn’t know what to expect. My heart was trying to escape my chest, and I swallowed hard as if that would push it back down into place.

  It felt immediately airless, and I took a deep breath like I was afraid the room would run out of oxygen. I looked at the lead singer of Jeff’s favorite band and realized why all of the girls and some of the men at the concert tonight would give an arm or a leg to be with him. It was like looking at a bronze statue of a Greek warrior, or like staring directly at the sun even though you know you shouldn’t.

  Dominic was beautiful like a “Welcome to the Jungle” era Axl Rose—only less effeminate—or a painting by Michelangelo gracing the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. “Hey, I’m Dom,” he said. His voice was soft and low in contrast to the way he sang onstage. Sex appeal oozed from every pore.

  “That was quite a performance tonight,” I said honestly. “You have a lot of stamina.” I giggled, feeling like a foolish schoolgirl. Why did I say that? I thought. He’s going to get the wrong idea.

  “Thanks,” Dom said. He stood up, and his tight leather pants made an audible sound of protest. He crossed the short distance to where I stood and put his hands on my shoulders. “You don’t have to look so alarmed,” he said. “I won’t bite unless you want me to.”

  “Why? Are you a werewolf?” I asked. Mentally, I congratulated myself on being the worst conversationalist ever. Our exchange made me glad that I didn’t typically have to interact with celebrities. Apparently, I wasn’t cut out for it.

  I had never thought of myself as the kind of girl who was easily impressed. Although I was just as susceptible to the charms of celebrities as anyone else, I didn’t think meeting a member of a band that I barely even liked would leave me breathless.

  Dom tossed his head back and laughed without releasing his gentle grip on my shoulders. “That was a good one,” he said. “Groupies usually don’t have a sense of humor.”

  I extricated myself from his grasp. “I’m not a groupie,” I said firmly. “I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression.” The air went out of my sails. Being called a groupie wasn’t one of the ways that I liked to be seduced. In fact, I found it rather insulting.

  For a second, I regretted my choice of attire for the evening. My white t-shirt was modest enough, but the length of my shorts left a bit to be desired. I tugged at the denim hemline discreetly and wished that I’d just worn jeans. Damn Beth and her stupid advice, I thought.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I mean to say ‘fans.’ No offense meant.”

  I shook my head.

  “You’re not a fan?” he asked. He raised one eyebrow and examined my face for clues.

  I realized I should probably lie to preserve his ego, but I wasn’t exactly in the mood to play games. Besides, he was so good looking that it took my breath away. My brain cells weren’t firing on all cylinders. “Not exactly,” I admitted. “I know a few of your songs though, the ones that come on the radio.”

  “I see. So, if you’re not a fan, may I ask what brought you here tonight?” He took a step back, which was helpful because I felt like I was running out of oxygen again.

  “To spite a man,” I said. Then I cleared my throat. “I came here to spite a man. We were—ahem—dating, and I thought he was going to propose marriage. Instead, he proposed that he should go back to his estranged wife.”

  “I see,” Dom said again. “Aren’t you a little young to be dating a married man?” He had suddenly turned from rock star to inquisitor, and I didn’t like being under the microscope.

  I supposed it was my fault for telling the truth, but Dom’s presence had the effect of a truth serum on me; I couldn’t even consider lying to anyone so beautiful. It was like he was designed by the gods themselves. Dom made Jeff look like the trash that he was. A stressed out and overworked lawyer couldn’t hold a candle to this flawless creature, even if Jeff was the best looking guy I’d ever seen. Until tonight.

  “I’m twenty-two,” I said. “I just graduated from Brown University.” I didn’t know why I added that bit of information.

  “Impressive,” Dom said, nodding his head. “You’re obviously a smart girl, yet you were dating a married man and wound up in the
front row of my concert to spite him somehow. I feel like there are a few missing chapters in your story.”

  “Right,” I said. “To be honest with you, we just met. You’re the world’s biggest rock star, and I’m an underemployed college graduate. I should probably go home, and you can find yourself some better company for the night. You don’t need to hear about my problems.”

  Dom pulled off his shirt. It was wet with sweat. So was his chest. His skin glistened under the lights. “What if I told you that you’re the best company I’ve had in a long time?” he asked. “Would you stay?” He used a towel to mop the sweat from his face and chest.

  I thought I might swoon like a Victorian-era lady with her corset laced too tight. Look away, I thought. Look away.

  “Maybe.” I laughed. “I would probably think you’re a liar, but I might stay for a while, especially if you offered me a drink.” I was parched. My tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of my mouth.

  He hesitated. “I’m sure I can get you whatever you like,” he said. “There isn’t any alcohol in my dressing room though. I guess some rock stars are more exciting than others.” He sounded apologetic.

  I felt myself blushing. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean alcohol. I’m just thirsty. Water would be fine.” I’d never been much of a drinker. Learning that I had a newly formed fetus developing in my belly meant that I wasn’t about to start, even if I hadn’t quite made up my mind about its fate.

  He opened the refrigerator that hummed against one wall of the dressing room. “Do you like Gatorade?” he asked.

  “Gatorade sounds like heaven,” I replied. So does drinking your bathwater. I felt myself blushing at the naughty thoughts that were running uninvited through my mind.

  “What flavor would you like?” he asked. He leaned over, giving me an eyeful of his leather-clad buttocks. “It looks like there’s fruit punch, grape, blue flavor—.”

  I laughed. “What does blue flavor taste like?” I asked.

  “Let’s find out.” Dom took out two plastic bottles of Gatorade, both contained ice blue liquid the color of windshield washer fluid. He handed me one of the bottles and downed the other in a single gulp. “Delicious,” he said. “It’s like the elixir of the gods.”

  I drank half my bottle and set it down. “Agreed,” I said. “Henceforth, blue shall be known as my favorite flavor.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “This is the first time a girl in my dressing room has been more interested in my Gatorade than in me,” he commented. “I don’t know whether it’s refreshing or insulting.”

  “It’s definitely refreshing,” I told him. I was actually starting to enjoy myself. “Hey, did you know that I almost ate a piece of your wedding cake today?” The words flew out of my mouth of their own accord.

  A cloud passed over his features. “What are you talking about?” he asked. His tone of voice made it abundantly clear that he knew exactly what I was talking about.

  “I’m Jenny Sweet. My sister and I own Sweets for the Sweet. Well, I’m the silent partner. My sister Beth makes all the decisions; she also makes all the cakes. I just invest my money, and one day I’ll reap half the profits. At least that’s what Beth keeps telling me.”

  Dom didn’t answer. He just squeezed his empty Gatorade bottle until it creaked and a dent formed in the side.

  I continued. “Well, I guess you would know more about this than I would, but from what I understand your fiancée planned a wedding for today, and you decided to perform the concert tonight instead of attending your own wedding. Does that sound about right?”

  Dom looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “So, you talked to Brandi?” he asked. It sounded more like a statement than a question.

  “No,” I said. “Not me. Like I said, I’m the silent partner. My sister handled her, and it wasn’t easy. No offense, but Beth said your fiancée was a bit of a bridezilla.”

  Dom sighed. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you this. We don’t even know each other. Not really. Brandi wasn’t exactly my fiancée.”

  “Really.” I looked around and found a chair. “My feet are killing me,” I said in explanation as I sat down. “If she wasn’t your fiancée, then what was she?”

  He sighed again, and then he pulled another chair facing mine before sitting down, too. “Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

  “My lips are sealed.” I pantomimed zipping my mouth closed, locking it and tossing away the key.

  “Brandi was a crazy one-night stand. We met last summer, spent one night together, and she stalked me for a year, showing up at every concert, telling security she was my girlfriend to get backstage. That ruse didn’t work for long. That’s when she started planning a wedding.”

  “That’s interesting,” I said. “Did you ever stop to think this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t had a one-night stand with a stranger?”

  A look of surprise flashed across his face. “I’m a rock star,” he growled. “I have one-night stands with a lot of strangers. What about you? What’s your story?”

  “What about me?” I asked.

  “Do you have one-night stands with a lot of strangers?”

  “What? No, I don’t.” I stood up to leave. “I can’t believe you would have the nerve to ask me something like that.”

  “Married men are more your style?” He stayed seated and crossed his ankles. There was a challenge in his eyes.

  “Touché,” I said.

  “You never explained how you wound up sitting in the front row tonight to spite a married man,” he said.

  I sat back in my chair. “You’re right. I didn’t. Let’s see. Where should I begin? Do you mind if I take off my shoes?”

  “Please,” he said. “Make yourself at home. My dressing room is your dressing room.”

  I removed one shoe and rested the foot on my opposite knee to rub the arch. “These shoes are so uncomfortable,” I said. “You have no idea what women go through to look good for you guys.”

  “It’s been my experience that women do what they do to look good for themselves and for each other. Men have very little to do with it, except when women are trying to make us jealous.” He leaned forward and wrapped his hand around my ankle, pulling my leg so that it was straight and my foot rested on his thigh, and then he began to work my foot from the toes to the heel. It was bliss.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said. “But wow.” His hands were like magic.

  He smirked, and I got the distinct impression that this wasn’t the first foot rub he had given. “Please continue with your story,” he said. “It’s fascinating.”

  “First of all, you do realize that it’s bizarre to be spilling my secrets to the world’s biggest rock star,” I said.

  “To be honest, I’m probably not the world’s biggest rock star,” he said. “But that’s quite a compliment coming from someone who only came to my concert out of spite.”

  I tried to hold back a smile. Something about Dom made me smile until my face hurt, and that wasn’t the reaction that I wanted to have to any man at the moment. “It’s a long story, but I’ll try to give you the abridged version of it because it’s getting late, and it’s way past my bedtime.”

  Dom nodded his head and leaned forward attentively. He didn’t stop massaging my foot.

  “I met Jeff in a yoga class,” I said. “We started dating, and he didn’t tell me he was married until after the third date, if you know what I mean.”

  Dom set my foot down and lifted my other foot, removing the shoe before placing it on his lap. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said. “Although I have to admit that it’s been a long time since a woman has made me follow the three-date rule.”

  “The perks of being a rock star,” I said flatly.

  “You got that right,” Dom replied.

  “He finally told me he was married, but it was too late. I had already fallen in love with him. So when he said he planned to leave her for good and marry me, I be
lieved him.”

  “That was probably a mistake,” Dom said.

  “It was definitely a mistake,” I agreed. “A month ago, he left me. Jeff told me he was going back to his wife for good. The concert tickets were a birthday gift I gave him weeks before he dumped me. He wanted to take both of them and bring his wife, Felicity, to the show.”

  “So you only let him keep one ticket.”

  “So I only let him keep one ticket,” I agreed.

  “Come back to my hotel with me,” Dom purred. He moved his hand from my foot to my calf.

  “I don’t do one-night stands,” I reminded him.

  “If I agree to those terms, will you come to the hotel?”

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten before I answered. When I opened my eyes, he was looking at me intently, waiting patiently for my answer.

  “No,” I whispered. “I’m not going back to your hotel, but thanks for asking.”

  Chapter Five

  The following day, I was back at Sweets for the Sweet. I was serious when I told Dom that I was just a silent partner. The last thing I wanted to do was get involved with flour, sugar, walnuts, vanilla and all those other ingredients that always coated Beth’s skin and powdered her hair.

  “Could you stir this?” Beth asked. She prodded me with the handle of a long wooden spoon. Her face told me that she wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

  I sighed heavily. “You know I wouldn’t have come here if I thought you were going to put me to work.” I grudgingly took the spoon from her hand and began to stir a bowl of batter.

  “You should work here,” Beth said. “You know your student loans are about to come knocking at your door, and the money from the settlement is probably all but gone.” She turned to feed a batch of cupcakes to the oven. “I could put you on the payroll and pay you minimum wage.”

  “I still teach yoga classes one day a week,” I said. I glared at her back. Beth knew better than to bring up anything having to do with the accident or the settlement. It was a topic we typically avoided like the plague. “Guess who I met last night,” I said, effectively changing the subject.