Rock Rebel

by Tara Leigh

  Dax cursed, his hand rubbing my neck.

  But I wasn’t through. “A few weeks later, Marko and I flew to Saint Bart’s for a cruise on someone’s yacht.” I swallowed. “I partied a lot—but these people took it to a whole new level. There was a crew to attend to every need, champagne corks popping all hours of the day and night, cocaine and pills in mirrored trays and crystal bowls all over the place.”

  I sensed Dax’s unease, felt the protection he instinctively offered in the way his arms curved around my back, tenderly stroking my skin. “Every day we’d stop at a different island. People would get on or off; it was hard to keep track. But on the third day a beautiful woman came on the ship, and she and Marko seemed very close. They had grown up together and would speak in their own language even when I was around.”

  “I didn’t want to seem like a clingy American. But eventually, after one too many glasses of champagne, I got upset. I told Marko he was being rude and that he needed to quit ignoring me or I was leaving. The woman, who spoke perfect English by the way, looked at me and said, ‘I am his wife and you are nothing, no one. Go.’” My stomach turned as I remembered the toxic mix of anger and mortification that had drenched my veins. “Turns out, there was some odd inheritance rule or something, and they married as teenagers. But for the time being, they had an open marriage. I felt duped, you know. Like I was just a placeholder. Nothing, like she said.”

  Until The Show, I’d spent nearly every day of my life trying to be someone. Trying to prove to my mother, to my classmates, to casting directors and producers and anyone with a clipboard in their hand that I was someone.

  The Show turned me into someone, all right. Someone I didn’t even recognize. Someone who didn’t know what to say without a script in her hand. Someone who didn’t know what to wear unless it came from wardrobe. Someone who was less a person than a Hollywood creation.

  And when The Show ended, I’d gone to New York, thinking I could be someone else. Someone different. Someone who jet-setted around Europe and the Caribbean with people I barely knew, who barely knew me. Thinking I was finally free, finally able to be myself. Until a virtual stranger looked at me, looked through me, and pronounced that I was nothing, no one.

  In a way, she was right. What did I matter to her? What did I matter to the guy I’d been seeing—her husband? What did I matter to any of them?

  I got off at the next island, and no one bothered to ask why I was carrying a suitcase instead of a beach bag.

  It took nearly two days to get from Curacao to L.A. If I wasn’t going to matter, I might as well be in a place where nothing mattered. Back in Hollywood. Except I wasn’t going to read from a script anymore. My life needed to change.

  I thought my life would change once I was signed by Travis Taggert. And it did. But a career shift isn’t the same thing as a mental shift. My life truly started to change for the better when I found the right people to trust. When Piper become more of a friend than an employee. Travis more of a mentor than a manager. And Dax…well, when he became just more.

  Now Dax rose onto his elbow, gently reversing our positions so that I was lying flat, looking up at him. There was a flash of something in his eyes—guilt or sadness maybe. “Verity, how can you be nothing when you’re everything to me?” His mouth claimed mine with the merest brush across my lips. “You’re fucking everything.”

  I’d waited my whole life to hear those words. Waited my whole life to find a man like Dax who said them with such conviction, such assurance, it was impossible not to believe him. And I wanted to—so, so badly. Blinking away the tears that threatened, I swallowed down the knot of past hurts. “I love you, Dax. More than I ever imagined possible.”

  He cupped my face in his hands, the tips of his fingers threading through the hair at my temples. “Fuck, Verity. I never planned on falling in love with you, or anyone else, ever again. But you made that impossible. I love you.”

  When he lowered his head, his kiss was soft and sweet, leisurely. Why shouldn’t it be? We had all the time in the world. “True.” He groaned against my lips. “Remind me later to tell you…”

  When he didn’t finish his thought, I giggled, the sound just barely escaping our mouths. I pushed against his shoulders. “Tell me what?”

  Dax buried his face in my neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin behind my ear. “Something I sure as fuck don’t want to talk about now.”

  I was curious, but there were more pressing things on my mind. Like how soon I could feel Dax pushing into me, taking me to a place where words didn’t matter.

  The air between us crackled with the charge from our sexual chemistry. I sucked in a breath, letting it fill my lungs, make my head spin.

  Dax was holding me so tight, right where I belonged.

  With him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Verity

  Dax had gone for a run along the beach and I was sitting on his deck, sipping an iced coffee.

  I probably should have just poured it down the drain. I didn’t need the caffeine, not when I was already feeling impatient, keyed up. Outside, the endless blue sky of an hour ago had turned sullen and moody, bloated with dark clouds that clung to the horizon in thick, brooding folds.

  The double ring of Dax’s home phone shattered the stillness of the afternoon, and I jumped up to answer the call from the gatehouse. Piper had texted a few minutes ago to say she was bringing over some new branding mock-ups for me to approve. “Send her in,” I said breezily, not waiting for the guard to announce Piper’s name.

  I ran up to unlock the door, leaving it slightly ajar. Knowing Piper, she would race inside, heading immediately for the nearest bathroom. I returned to the deck, spotting Dax walking across the sand. My hunky rock star was shirtless and broad-shouldered, the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. The only thing that could make my view any better would be if the sky opened up right now, rain drenching Dax’s rippling muscles and already slick skin.

  I was beaming down at him as he jogged up the steps, knowing I was seconds away from being enveloped in a sweaty hug and breathless with the anticipation of it. All thoughts of Piper’s imminent arrival had faded, and my focus was entirely on the man I loved with my whole heart.

  So I was a captive audience for the moment his grin sheared off, replaced first by shock, then an unsettling mix of hostility and disgust. A tremor of fear rippled down my spine. Like I was in a horror film, seconds away from a brutal, messy death.

  Death, messy or otherwise, would have been kinder.

  Because when I turned, the woman standing just in the middle of the doorway, her slender shape framed by the rectangular molding, was the very same one who had once wielded a blade, each interaction slicing at my soul. Millie.

  Why is she here?

  I staggered back, allowing more than enough room for Dax to leap over the final step. But once he was firmly planted on the deck, he made no effort to move any closer. His beautiful hazel eyes had gone dark, entirely devoid of the mossy green and gold that could devour me one minute and burn me up the next. His jaw appeared carved from granite, and his chest was heaving, as if he was fighting to draw air into his lungs.

  “What the fuck are you doing here, Amelia?” Her name resounded like a gunshot, the kind that exploded on impact. I swear I felt it invading my flesh, metallic shards tearing thought bone and muscle and sinew. Ruining. Destroying.

  Amelia?

  Dax

  At first I thought I was seeing things. That I’d run too many miles on too little sleep and too much sex.

  Was such a thing even possible—too much sex?

  No. Not with Verity, anyway.

  But somehow I had to be hallucinating. That was the only possible explanation for what I was seeing.

  Verity.

  Amelia.

  Both women, at my house.

  It was a nightmare.

  I’d fantasized about Amelia showing up here for a long time, even after our initial confrontation years
before. But since that fateful elevator ride in New York, all of my fantasies had revolved around Verity. I wanted her. I loved her.

  Every bit of that woman drove me wild, in the very best way.

  That riot of red hair cascading over creamy shoulders. Ombre eyelashes that went from cinnamon at the tips to ochre when they hit her lids. The perfect frame for the emerald jewels staring at me.

  Except that right now Verity’s eyes weren’t the clear burning luster of emeralds. They were cloudy and troubled, those of a leprechaun who had arrived at the end of the rainbow to discover his pot of gold had been stolen.

  Me. I was the thief.

  And I was about to suffer the consequences.

  Amelia’s mouth formed a pout. “Is that any kind of welcome home for your wife?” She said it with an air of triumph. But this wasn’t her home, and I sure as fuck wasn’t happy to see her.

  Wife.

  The word had turned Verity’s face ashen, her jaw sagging for the briefest of moments before snapping shut. Blinking rapidly as she looked from Amelia to me, waiting for me to say something, do something. To fix it.

  But I couldn’t. I couldn’t.

  And I was so fucking ashamed.

  The click of Amelia’s heel as she stepped down onto the deck was the horn at a starting gate. Verity surged forward, away from me. She was a blur of movement, her hair a fiery torch blazing in the dark breeze.

  Darting across the deck and inside my house, pausing only to grab the purse she’d made a habit of leaving at the head of the dining table.

  Shock and shame weren’t mixing well inside my lungs. I was unstable, volatile.

  Verity Moore was it for me. She was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Whatever that meant, wherever that took us.

  I wanted to chase after her. But how could I? Not when it was so obvious I didn’t deserve her. I should have told Verity everything. I’d meant to, several times. Just this morning, even.

  But I hadn’t.

  I looked back at Amelia. “You gave up the right to call yourself that the day you left me.” Bitterness coated my tongue.

  “So then why did I only just receive papers this morning?” She tilted her head to the side, regarding me through lashes that were soot black and obviously extensions. Spider legs clinging to her lids, flapping at me.

  I could have kicked myself for not signing the papers she’d served me with back in New York years ago. Instead I had tossed the documents in the garbage, packed a bag, and taken the first flight to Los Angeles.

  I’d found Amelia after a few weeks in L.A. But she was determined to make it in Hollywood, and by then I was doing the same on the rock scene. I had more success than she did, but Amelia said she’d fallen for another guy.

  I stopped wanting Amelia to want me back years ago, and I should have told Travis then to file on my behalf. But it never felt like the right time, given our intense touring and recording schedule. And when Shane and Delaney, and therefore Nothing but Trouble, had been front-page tabloid news for most of last year, Amelia had been the farthest thing from my mind.

  Any time would have been better than this one.

  I forced my tense shoulders into a shrug. “You haven’t been a priority in my life for years, Amelia.”

  “I don’t believe that.” She took another step toward me, her hands outstretched.

  I inched back as far as I could go without plunging down the stairs. It would almost be worth it to get away from her. “I don’t give a fuck what you believe. Not anymore.”

  She stopped just short of touching me. “I was wrong. Wrong to leave you in New York. Wrong to avoid you here in L.A. Wrong to think we weren’t meant to be together.”

  “The only thing wrong here is you showing up at my house, thinking those papers were an invitation.” There was no give to the timbre of my voice. It was hard, cold. A reflection of my soul. With Verity gone, the light in my life had been extinguished. I just prayed she wasn’t gone for good.

  Amelia’s face pinched, frustration that I wasn’t making things easy for her showing in every crease and line. She was a year younger than me, but she didn’t look it. “Why, because you’re shacking up with Verity?”

  “You know Verity?” The name sounded strange coming from Amelia’s mouth. Formal. An accusation. My mind struggled to process how Amelia would know Verity, but then I realized—who didn’t know Verity Moore? She was famous, her face more recognizable than mine. But still, something about the way Amelia spoke was off, almost as if she knew Verity personally. I squinted down at her.

  She hesitated, looking over my shoulder as if the answer were written on the horizon. “I know who she is, Dax. Everyone does. She’s not right for you.”

  I hated the patronizing tone of her voice, as if Verity were somehow beneath her. The truth was exactly opposite. “You don’t know shit. Not about Verity and not about me.”

  “How can you say that? We practically grew up together. I know you better than anyone.”

  Thunder rumbled from somewhere far in the distance, low and sonorous, an echo of the seething tide. “You knew the naïve kid I used to be. I’ve grown up, Amelia, and I’ve sure as fuck moved on. There’s no room for you in my life anymore.”

  “But don’t you see—that’s why I left New York. Why I left you. I was young and naïve, too. Getting pregnant…” Her throat worked as she swallowed back tears. “I was still a kid myself. I was terrified, and after the miscarriage—after we lost our baby—I felt like I needed to start over. Start fresh.”

  Damn her for bringing that up.

  Images came flashing back at me. Red blood on white sheets. My frantic 911 call. The flashing blue and white lights of the ambulance. Shiny speckled gray floors, doctors in white coats. The smell of Windex and ammonia. Amelia’s screams when she woke up. The look of devastation on her face.

  I had married Amelia when we found out she was pregnant. The day I found her in bed, in a pool of blood, had been the scariest night of my life. Afterward she’d been so sad, so fragile. I told Amelia the miscarriage didn’t matter to me, that I would have married her whether she was pregnant or not. And it was the truth. I loved her.

  But it didn’t matter. She left a few months later.

  I shook my head, blinking away the memories. When I faced Amelia again, my throat was tight but my tone had softened. “We were both kids, and now we’re not. We’re nothing anymore.” I felt the first raindrop splatter on my cheek, and I sidestepped her to head inside. She could get to the driveway using the stairs that ran along the perimeter of my house. “Go home, Amelia. Have your attorney call mine and let’s sever ties.”

  “You’re making a mistake, Dax. I’ll go after you for half of everything you’ve earned.” I closed and locked the door behind me, her threat rolling off my shoulders.

  We’d never lived as a married couple in California, so she had no claim on anything I’d earned here, although I was perfectly willing to give her some kind of settlement just to make her go away.

  But my most valuable asset, the one I should have protected, the woman I should have protected, had just walked out the door.

  I had to get her back.

  Because I couldn’t live without her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Verity

  I sat in Dax’s driveway for a few minutes, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

  Jack Lester’s assistant, Millie.

  Dax’s ex, Amelia.

  Correction: Dax’s wife, Amelia.

  Amelia and Millie…were the same person.

  Amelia/Millie was Dax’s wife.

  Dax was married.

  Oh my god.

  Pain screamed from every nerve ending.

  How was this happening to me?

  This was an entirely different level of deception than that night in the Caribbean, and I didn’t have nearly enough scar tissue to lessen the stabbing pain of Dax’s betrayal. I’d been gutted by a single word. The hurt compounded a th
ousand times over by Dax’s complicity.

  Millie. Amelia. Wife. Married.

  My brain was shredded, trying to make sense of it all.

  Knowing it made no sense at all.

  Why hadn’t Dax told me about her? Was I just an affair for him? Someone to play with while he and Millie—Amelia—were on the outs?

  But no, that didn’t make sense. I’d never heard anything about Dax being married, not even a whisper. I’d never noticed a ring on Millie’s finger, or picked up on a single sign that she was devoted to anyone other than Jack Lester. And there was no way Dax had seen her while we were living together. When would he have had the time?

  Wiping the tears from my face with shaking hands, I backed out of Dax’s driveway onto the street, slowing down to go through the gate. Just as I nosed beneath the rising metal bar, Piper’s bright blue Mini pulled up on the other side. Keeping my sunglasses firmly covering my eyes, I lowered my window.

  She waved at me. “Hey, you got my message, right? I said I was coming.”

  I could feel my chin trembling and knew I would burst into tears if I attempted even a single word. I saw Piper’s lips tighten, a frown pushing between her brows. “Follow me,” she said, before reversing and pulling out in front of me.

  I drove on autopilot, following her to a midsize apartment complex and parking in the lot a few spots down from her. For a pregnant woman, Piper still moved fast and was pulling at my door before I’d turned off my ignition. “Come on. I just have to pee, and then you’re going to tell me what the dickhead did.”

  My first instinct was to defend him, but in the next moment I realized that yes, Dax was a dickhead. Hearing Piper call him that, and repeating it silently inside my head, made me feel just the tiniest bit better.