And then there was today’s last-minute addition.
Julian had to hide a satisfied smirk. He wasn’t a man who left anything to chance and he almost never did things on the spur of the moment.
But today he had.
And he couldn’t wait to see the look on Dena’s face when he surprised her.
The ceremony was set to begin and as the music changed to the “Wedding March,” Julian straightened and turned his head briefly to look at his buddies. They all thought he was crazy—had told him so on numerous occasions—and yet they all stood beside him to support him.
Mick caught his eye and gave the barest of nods and for some reason, that small gesture calmed Julian’s last-minute nerves.
Everyone stood and turned to watch Dena float down the aisle on her father’s arm. She looked beautiful—like an angel in miles of white satin and lace. Her blond hair was long and curled, and even from where he was standing, Julian could see her signature pink-glossed lips. She caught his eye and gave him a beautiful smile, her blue eyes gleaming.
She was everything.
She was perfect.
She was…he couldn’t find the words.
Swallowing hard, Julian moved to take her arm as she stepped up beside him. They waited for her father to take his seat before facing the minister, who smiled serenely at them.
“Dearly beloved,” he began, “we are gathered here today to witness the union of Julian and Dena in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate. It is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly.” He paused and looked at Julian. “It is my understanding you have a special presentation for the bride that you would like to make before we begin, is that correct?”
Julian forced himself not to turn and look at Dena even as he heard her soft gasp. She didn’t like surprises. She had orchestrated and planned every detail of this wedding down to the second, and was probably more annoyed than curious at his messing with her schedule.
“That is correct,” Julian said.
With a curt nod, the minister stepped to the side as a large projection screen was revealed behind him. For a minute, Julian was seriously impressed with how the staff had disguised it behind strategically placed greenery and flowers.
“Julian,” Dena whispered with a hint of annoyance, but he simply removed her arm from his as he took a step to the side—close to Riley—and waited for the images to play on the screen.
The sound came on first and you could have heard a pin drop in the garden as the guests listened in stunned silence.
Heavy breathing.
“Oh, just like that.”
“You like that, don’t you, babe?”
“So much…you’re so good…so perfect…”
“Better than Julian, right?”
Female laughter.
“So much better…always so much better.”
An image finally appeared on the screen. It was a little dark, a little grainy, but not so much that you couldn’t see what was going on.
A couple in bed.
There wasn’t any chance of disputing who the woman was.
And the much younger guy was a studio technician who had worked on the last three Shaughnessy albums.
And was currently a guest at the wedding.
“Why are you marrying him, babe?”
She stopped moving and smiled at him, stroking his cheek. “Because he’s Julian Grayson and he’s rich,” she said simply. “And I want to be rich.”
“I’m rich.”
“No, your father is rich,” she corrected. “You’re just living off his name.”
“Isn’t that what you’ll be doing with Grayson? And besides, money isn’t everything.”
“Oh, please. Yes it is,” she snapped. “And don’t worry, you’ll be able to enjoy it too after I’m married. Julian gives me whatever I want no matter what I do.”
“That’s just cold, Dena. Even for you.”
She shrugged and went back to moving with her lover. “Agree to disagree. I want it all and I want Julian to give it to me.”
The screen went black and Julian finally allowed himself to look at his bride. He forced a smile and willed himself not to fall for the shocked look on her face.
How many times had her tears worn him down? How many times had he believed she was sorry for the things she’d done?
“You want it all, sweetheart?” he asked as he took a menacing step closer. “I guess you’ll get it from your latest fling.”
Turning, he looked at his buddies, who were all trying to hide their own shock and amusement. Only Mick looked serious. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled something out and tossed it to Julian. “Everything’s out front,” he said.
Nodding, Julian grabbed the keys Mick had thrown and stalked up the aisle as chaos broke out in his wake.
Chapter 1
Dirty, dusty, and more than a little sweaty, Julian tossed his keys on the table and stood in the entryway of the home he hadn’t seen in three months. He’d say it was good to be home, but he wasn’t a liar.
With a mixture of dread and curiosity, he forced himself to move. He’d been told what to expect, but if he’d learned anything over the last five years, it was that there were some things you just couldn’t prepare yourself for.
Stepping into his massive living room, he froze. The place looked completely different—void of anything personal. It could have been a picture out of a decorating magazine and as much as he hated it, he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.
Every trace of Dena and their life together was gone.
Good riddance.
The entire room was white—the couches, the rug, the curtains. The back wall was made of windows, and with the sun shining through right now, it was almost blinding. Looking down at himself, he knew there was no way he could even walk further into the room—let alone touch anything.
He kept waiting to feel something. Anything. But after three months of riding his motorcycle around the country, he supposed he had dealt with most of his feelings on just about everything.
Maybe.
After walking out on the wedding, Julian had found a car waiting in front of the hotel and a valet holding the door open as if he’d known exactly when Julian was going to need it. Then he had gone to Mick’s place and picked up the motorcycle he’d dropped there the previous day and the duffel bag that was already packed with things he’d need for however long he wanted.
Amazing how when the band traveled on tour, he required half a dozen pieces of luggage, but for this particular trip he had managed to condense it down to one duffel bag. And he’d made it work. He’d looked like hammered shit most of the time, but it worked. It fit his mood, and really, the only one he’d been hanging out with was himself, so what difference did it make?
There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that most people thought he was crazy for what he’d done. Not just taking off on his bike for three months, but the whole wedding thing. Looking back, he knew it was the only way for him to do it. For years, Dena had been playing him and he’d been so blinded by love and loyalty that he kept taking whatever she threw at him. So many people had warned him and tried to talk him out of staying in the relationship, but Julian wouldn’t listen. Couldn’t. He’d been too determined to make things work.
It wasn’t until a week before the wedding that he’d been confronted with the truth—some things were never going to work no matter how much you wanted them to. And some people weren’t worth wanting.
It was easy to say, not so easy to make himself believe.
Hence the three months on the road.
Julian wasn’t stupid. Well, maybe he had been stupid, but after spending so much time in his head these last several months, he’d learned a lot about himself. For starters, he knew he’d stayed in a toxic relationship way too
long. It didn’t matter how much counseling they had or how much they had talked through their problems, Dena had always found a way to make him feel like her behavior was somehow his fault. He worked too much, didn’t give her enough attention…on and on it had gone. And he’d believed her.
When that video had surfaced—and he had thanked Mick and the private investigator he’d hired for it—Julian had been hit with the hard truth.
It didn’t matter how much or how little he worked.
It didn’t matter how much attention he gave.
Dena didn’t love him. Probably never had. He was a means to an end. She wanted fame and money and he was her ticket.
Her words on the video had devastated him, but he couldn’t help but be thankful for them as well.
Given his tendency to cave where Dena was concerned, Julian knew the only way he was going to stay strong was to put some major distance between the two of them and not let anyone know where he was. He’d periodically checked in with his family, along with Mick and the guys, but other than that, Julian had spent the better part of the last ninety days on the back of his motorcycle and sleeping in some of the crappiest motels he had ever seen. It made staying under the radar and not being recognized a whole lot easier.
As if on cue, Julian’s phone rang. Pulling it from his pocket, he grinned and answered. “You adding ESP to your list of skills, Mick?”
A low chuckle was the first response. “Nah, just know that you’re punctual if nothing else. You said you’d be at the house at two. I figured I’d give you ten minutes to get in the door and get your first look around.” He paused. “Everything okay?”
“I made it as far as the living room.”
“My decorator, Joanie, did a fantastic job, don’t you think?”
Julian shrugged even though Mick couldn’t see him. “It’s very…white.”
“White’s in. It’s classic. Trust me, in time you’ll love it.”
“Maybe.” Not that it mattered. Now that Julian was back, he had no intention of keeping the house. He thought back to how Dylan had felt after completing his stint in rehab—the first thing to go had been his house.
“My Realtor will be over to meet with you tomorrow,” Mick said with a sigh.
Now it was Julian’s turn to chuckle. “How’d you know?”
“Please. I know you better than you think. Just like I know Riley, Matt, and Dylan better than they think. Personally, I was surprised you didn’t want me to sell it before you got back.”
“I thought about it, but I need to have my own closure.”
“Makes sense.”
They were silent for a moment and Julian almost willed his manager to tell him something—anything—even if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“She’s back in Phoenix,” Mick said solemnly.
It was where Dena had been born and raised, so it wasn’t really a surprise. “And?”
“And he’s no longer employed.”
“You mean with the label? Encore?”
“No. I mean anywhere,” Mick clarified. “Word spread pretty fast after…well, after. Let’s just say as of right now, he’s not welcome at any of the big labels. In time, I’m sure he’ll find work again, but for now, not so much.”
The kicker was that Julian had actually liked the guy. He’d always been nice to everyone and was easy to work with, and even though they hadn’t had a lot of interaction, Julian couldn’t find a bad thing to say about his work.
On a personal level? That was another story.
Right now, all he wanted to do was sit down, but all the white furniture gave him pause. With a muttered curse, he walked into the kitchen and sat on one of the leather barstools by the massive granite island.
“So now what?” Julian asked with a sigh. “Do I need to be prepared for anything? Is Dena gonna come sniffing around? Does everyone think I’m the bad guy for the way it all went down?”
Mick laughed. An honest-to-goodness hearty laugh. “Julian, you’re joking, right?”
Raking a hand through his black—and seriously overgrown—hair, Julian stiffened. “What?”
“I have been fielding calls about this since it happened—people wanting to interview you and get your story.”
“And that’s funny…why?”
Mick sighed loudly. “Because you had given me a heads up about what you were planning, I had things in place.”
“What kind of things?”
“Things like talking to our legal team and our PR people. I knew Dena would immediately go to the press to play the victim, and I needed to make sure that didn’t happen.”
“So, what did you do?”
He let out a low chuckle. “It’s not important right now. What I need to know is what you want to do from here. I have a house that’s available for you to rent for the next three months if you want it. No pressure or anything. But if you want out of that place and you’re not ready to go house hunting, this could be a solution.”
He really didn’t want to deal with house hunting or anything else right now, and even though, from what he could see, there was no trace of Dena in the house, it didn’t matter. His brain remembered her everywhere in the space—new furniture or not. This offer was really a blessing.
Julian had known he would have to come home and deal with his life, but he certainly didn’t have to stay and let it mock him.
“Text me the address,” he said.
* * *
There was efficient, and then there was Mick-efficient. As Julian stood on the deck staring out at the ocean two hours later, he had to admit, his manager had outdone himself.
The rental house was right on the beach in Malibu. It was prime real estate and the house itself was magnificent. Three bedrooms, four bathrooms, and decorated for people who wanted to live in the house rather than use it for display. The moment he walked inside he had felt at home.
Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Along with the address, Mick had informed him that the place was only lightly stocked, but there would be a housekeeper coming in tomorrow to do his shopping—all he had to do was give her a list of the things he liked. On top of that, she would come in twice a week to clean and would cook for him too if he wanted.
Not a bad deal at all.
Living here for the next several months certainly wasn’t going to be a hardship, but he also knew he would have to start giving some serious thought to his future.
Part of the problem was how much he had isolated himself since walking out on his wedding. It was a completely selfish thing to do—after all, he did have a commitment to the band and they had all been talking about getting back into the studio. But even after all his soul-searching, he wasn’t feeling much like making music. If he were honest, he would just admit that he was burned out. Besides all of his years with Shaughnessy, he had pulled double time trying to help Dena launch her own music career—which had failed. And on top of all of that, if it hadn’t been for this career of his—his fame and notoriety—Julian wouldn’t be in this position right now. Not the standing in a five-million-dollar home on the beach, but realizing how people weren’t real or genuine. People would use you and betray you all because of who you were.
There was no way he was going to open himself up to that again.
Ever.
He’d made his fortune and invested well. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind—especially after the past few months’ nomadic life—that he could live comfortably for the rest of his life without stepping into a recording studio or up on a concert stage again. He knew he’d catch a lot of crap for it and he’d be disappointing some of the greatest people he’d ever known, but at the end of the day he needed to have peace for himself. And stepping back into the limelight meant he would always be looking at the people around him with suspicion and wondering who was going to stab
him in the back next.
The guy in the video with Dena had been one of many, but he was the only one Julian could look at and know with any certainty who he was. How many others at the label or in his circle of friends and acquaintances in the music business had done the same thing with her? And what was worse, how many had looked him in the eye and lied to his face while sleeping with his girlfriend?
So yeah, he wasn’t too keen on going back to his music career, because that trust was broken and he knew he had to be some sort of laughingstock. He prided himself on being a good person—an honest person—and the type of man who would be there for anyone who needed a hand. And just knowing that people knew—really knew—what Dena had been doing…well, it was almost too bitter a pill to swallow.
Had people warned him? Yes. Had anyone been willing to give names? No. Julian thought of his wedding day and how Riley had asked him if he was sure about going through with the ceremony. He sighed when he realized all the guys had been asking that for years—not about the wedding but about the relationship in general. How many conversations had they had as a group or one-on-one where they wondered why he would opt to stay in a relationship that was so clearly toxic?
Good question.
How many times had he asked himself the very same thing while riding across the country? And how many times had he come up with no real answers, only excuses?
The truth of the matter was that Julian had been raised to not be a quitter—to go after what he wanted and fight for it. He’d done it with so many different aspects of his life that when he met Dena and felt like he had been hit with love at first sight, he knew he’d do anything to make it work.
And he had.
To the point of turning into a damn joke.
It didn’t matter how much you loved something, and whoever came up with the old adage If you love something, set it free was a true genius. If Julian had listened to that sooner, he could have saved himself a lot of pain and a lot of embarrassment. He could have saved himself from having to change his whole lifestyle so he wouldn’t have to feel that way ever again.
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