by Regina Wade
Her Billionaire Rockstar
A Protective Possessive Instalove Romance
Regina Wade
Contents
1. Beth
2. Brash
3. Beth
4. Brash
5. Beth
6. Brash
7. Beth
8. Brash
9. Beth
10. Brash
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
Join my Mailing List:
British Invasion Playlist
Her Big Brother’s Best Friend
Cop’s Obsession
Protecting Her Heart Series:
Also by Regina Wade
About the Author
Chapter 1
Beth
She said she loves you. And you know that can’t be bad. She said she loves you. And you know you should be glad. — The Beatles, ‘She Loves You’
I’m a reformed rebel. A rebel in remission, if you will.
I’ve never met a plan I could stick with. I don’t just find trouble, I manage to unearth it from wherever it's minding its own damn business and slap it in the face.
Why stay between the lines when scribbling everywhere else gives you much more colorful results? Never accomplish something on the first try when two or three will do. And take up twice as much time, at that. That’s me.
Or at least it was.
Four years to get a two-year degree? Check. Minor scuffles with the law just to get a rise out of my better than average suburban parents? Check and check. You name the bad decision and I was waiting in line to make it.
After graduation, I felt like I was afloat. Drifting through the world with a degree I hated getting, struggling to find jobs nobody wanted to hire me for.
But that was the old Beth.
You only get one chance to plan your best friend’s dream wedding to your big brother. There’re no do-overs at the maid of honor game. Rori left me in charge of making her big day absolutely perfect. This is it. My moment to get my shit together.
It feels like my last chance, and I’m not throwing away my shot.
Everything has to be perfect for them. And I’ll make sure it will be, no matter what.
“The chapel was built in 1826. It’s suitable for up to a hundred guests.” Caroline pauses.
The woman is giving me a brief tour of a quaint stone chapel just outside of London. It’s a beautiful and ancient space, the kind my BFF has dreamed about saying “I do” in her entire life.
Caroline stops with one hand on the double-doored entryway leading out to the gardens. “Are we waiting for someone, Miss Brooks? I was told the best man would be here to look at the space along with you?”
My brows knit together at the mention of my brother’s best man.
I must be the only woman in the world who isn’t in love with Brash Knight.
Just my luck that my older brother would meet the most famous British rock star in the world right as I’m turning over a new leaf. Tall, dark, and tattooed, Reed’s new best mate sounds like liquid sex every time he opens his mouth. Brash has got the kind of carefree reputation that could get a girl like me in big trouble, just when I’m trying to get my feet on solid ground.
“Yes,” I give Caroline an apologetic nod. “Mr. Knight should be here any minute now.”
As if right on cue, a deep whooshing sound fills the air above us. I look up just in time to see a sleek black helicopter blotting out the mid-morning London sky.
There was a time when my rebellious streak could have led to a dubious future for me. What started as basic teenage angst nearly ended in a shoplifting arrest a month shy of my eighteenth birthday. Only Rori and my older brother Reed, the two people who mean the most to me in the world, stuck by me through it all. That was nearly five years ago now.
Rori has the biggest heart of anyone I know. If anyone deserves a perfect wedding day, it’s my best friend.
I only just met Brash Knight, rock guitar whisperer and actual sex icon, at his concert in Buenos Aires when my brother proposed to Rori. Reed was working as Brash’s bodyguard while on tour with the band.
At the time, I was as enamored with Brash as the rest of the female population. The fact that Reed asked him to be the best man did nothing to stop the blistering crush I was developing for the man. Brash offered to pay for a dream wedding for his new BFF after the final leg of the concert in his hometown in London.
Must be nice to have friends at the top, big bro.
“Oh my goodness!” Caroline’s polished British English takes on a flustered tone as she realizes who is landing a helicopter on the grassy lawn just off the hill where the chapel sits. “Is that Mr. Knight? As in Brash Knight?”
I can’t blame her for the flushed excitement that creeps across her face, either. Brash isn’t some flash in the pan teenage pop star. The man is a legend; rock royalty. The sexiest and most recognizable voice and face in music. With good reason, too.
His rich blue eyes are flecked with grey steel. That half grin is as recognizable as the sleeve of tattoos that snakes its way up his well-defined biceps and spreads across his upper back. Brash’s face is striking, and even at nearly-forty his physique is as recognizable and drool-worthy as his distinctive scotch-over-ice voice.
“Yes,” I sigh. “He’s the best man.”
“He certainly is that, isn’t he love?” Caroline says with a wicked laugh.
As much as I want to keep a straight face, I can’t help but give in and laugh along. For a moment, Caroline and I simply watch in awe as Brash exits the helicopter and struts across the dappled morning sunlight towards us. It’s like watching art in motion. Even from behind his dark shades, I know the moment his eyes make contact with me.
There’s an unmistakable snap of electricity, the hot flash of need that loops through me and settles right between my legs.
Squaring my shoulders, I toss my hair back and get ready to go another round with the worst best man ever.
The truth is, being around Brash is way too dangerous for me.
Chapter 2
Brash
When I’m watching my TV. And a man comes on and tells me how white my shirts could be. But he can’t be a man cuz he don’t smoke the same cigarettes as me. — The Rolling Stones ‘(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction’
Beth is holding her notebook again.
I don’t think I’ve seen her without the massive three-ring binder since she stepped off the plane in London. If it weren’t for the fact that I’d seen her without the damned thing with my own two eyes in Argentina, I would be starting to wonder if it were surgically attached to her in some way.
Reed Baker and I met earlier this summer. He was my bodyguard during the South American kickoff for my world tour. His little sister’s best friend— and as it turns out, the love of his life— was also on board the flight. Rori was my stewardess.
The rest? History.
Rori and Reed are still off pregaming their wedding with a few more days in South America on my dime.
They asked Beth and I to put a wedding together for them in the week it would take friends and family to arrive in London, which gives me just enough time to wrap up my tour with a concert in my hometown.
I want to throw my best mate a wedding he’ll never forget. The party of a lifetime.
The only obstacle to this plan? One Bethany Baker and her infamous three-ring wedding binder of doom.
“Nice of you to join us,” Beth says archly from over the top of the folder she’s clutching to her chest. Somehow, the damn thing has managed to get bigger since the last time I saw her. “I hope I’m not imposing terribly. But you know, since the wedding is in a week and all.”
God,
she’s sexy.
There isn’t anything about Beth that doesn’t turn me on. There’s just something especially sexy about that impertinent turn of her nose when she’s dripping condescension at me. Makes my cock throb in my ripped designer jeans every time.
“Mr. Knight,” The blonde woman at Beth’s side extends a hand, all professionalism. “I’m Caroline. Welcome to Asylum Chapel. We were just about to take a look at the gardens, if you’d care to join us?”
“Of course,” I take off my sunglasses. It’s impossible to miss the way Beth’s eyes dart up to my face when I do. Her eyes are mossy and green in the sunlight, and for a moment, they meet mine and blaze with emotion.
“Lead the way.”
I first met Beth when she flew in to surprise her brother during my concert in Argentina. It turned out to be quite the surprise for everyone involved. I helped my best friend and bodyguard orchestrate a concert takeover so he could profess his love for Rori. It was a sweet and tender moment— not a dry eye in the house, at least according to social media and the press.
Reed’s sister inspires a lot of feelings in me, not all of them are soft and tender. Her curvy body and expressive face light a fire in me that I haven’t felt in years. I’ve written more music since getting back from Argentina than I have in years. Ballads, sweat-drenched guitar riffs and everything in between.
Unfortunately, somewhere between the weekend of music and partying in Buenos Aires and wedding planning in London, Beth has decided she no longer agrees with me on anything. Apparently, she’s also ruled out trivial little things like sightseeing, having fun, and laughter while in town, too.
I’d like to blame jet lag, but she’s closed off something in those expressive green eyes, and I want to get to the bottom of it. See the spark back in her smile. It’s maddening. Beth is all fire and ice, and it only makes me burn hotter for her.
From the first, I’ve been drawn to Beth and her face. There’s an earnestness in her smile, something deeper in her eyes that I want to probe.
Not just her eyes, either.
Everything about Beth makes me ache. I want to run my hands over her thick curves, taste and tease her until she’s screaming my name. It’s been a long time since simply being near a woman has brought me this close to losing control. Every time I sit down to write lately, it’s her plump lips and soulful gaze that fills my mind.
What’s more, I can tell I’m not alone. Otherwise, she wouldn’t bristle every time I come close. Beth’s put a wall up between us, an icy barrier that tells me she’s just as interested as I am.
“So,” I blink up to the sound of Caroline’s smiling voice, suddenly aware that we’re standing at the outer edges of a meandering rose garden. I have no idea how we even got here, or how long I was daydreaming about burying myself inside of Beth’s slick walls instead of paying attention to the tour. “I’ll leave you two to talk things over.”
“I like it—” Beth says as soon as Caroline has walked away.
“I don’t know—” I stop short, looking down at her beautiful face.
She presses the binder closer to her chest, a square of what looks like a fabric sample and a scrap of tulle escaping from one corner as she does.
“Beth,” I try again. There’s got to be some sense of sanity in that beautiful head of hers. “Let me show you something, ok?”
“I don’t know, Brash.” She huffs out a breath, clearly more annoyed with me than usual. “We have one week to plan a wedding before my brother and Rori get here. That doesn’t exactly give us much time— even with your money. You didn’t even show up to look at the first two places I had scheduled this morning.”
“You’re right,” I try again, palms raised. “But in my defence, I was at rehearsal. You know, for my concert? The whole reason your brother and best friend chose to get married in London in the first place?”
She stops at that, though I can’t tell if she’s any less annoyed.
“Beth.” I wait, watching the struggle play across her beautiful features. As frustrated as she is with me for whatever transgression I may have committed now, she won’t risk it. Not if there’s a chance at uncovering the perfect location, the ideal wedding view. If there’s anything I’ve learned about the feisty, stubborn, hot-tempered brunette since meeting her, it’s that she wants to make Reed and Rori’s wedding the most memorable night of their lives.
“Ok, let’s see what you’ve got up your sleeve. But,” she marches up to me. She’s easily a foot shorter than my six foot four, but that doesn’t stop Beth from glaring up at me. “It better be fairy tale princess levels of romantic, or you’re bringing me right back here.”
“Fair enough,” I laugh. My hand nestles into the small of her back as I guide Beth back over to the helicopter that’s waiting on the lawn.
It fits perfectly, nestled possessively just above the jut of her ass. I don’t miss the way her fingers flutter along the edges of her binder at the contact. Realization creeps across her face a moment later. The crew hustles to prepare for takeoff.
“So you just have a whole staff at your beck and call all the time, huh? Must be nice.”
“It has its benefits,” I tell her honestly. I wait until we’re both on board and buckled in. “I’ve been poor, and I’ve been rich. Rich is more fun.”
Beth answers my grin with one of her own, rolling her eyes. I love getting a rise out of her.
She certainly has no trouble getting a rise out of me. Sitting next to each other inside the helicopter, her knee is pressed against mine as we lift into the air, watching the chapel and gardens get smaller below us.
“Where are we going?” she asks me over the roar of the rotors after a few minutes.
“The Ned,” I tell her with a wink as the helo banks to the left. “It used to be a bank building, and trust me, doll, it’s the dog’s bollocks”
Beth opens her mouth to say something, then changes her mind abruptly as she feels the sudden shift in our direction. She lets out a small yelp instead, wrapping her hand around my arm in a vice grip. I have a very quick fantasy about watching her wedding notebook accidentally fly out, lost forever over the hustle of the London streets.
Instead, I take it from her, putting it safely beside me so she can hold on.
“Beth?” I smooth back the soft silk of her sable hair until she looks up at me. “You’re safe. I promise. I won’t ever let anything happen to you, love”
The death grip on my arm relaxes in increments, but she doesn’t let go completely.
That’s just fine with me.
Chapter 3
Beth
Wild thing, you make my heart sing. Wild thing, you make everything groovy. — The Troggs, ‘Wild Thing’
I wake up the next day to the sound of rain.
There’s something soothing about it. I’ve been in London for less than a week, and I’ve already gotten used to the drizzly, grey skies of the morning. It’s certainly different from the endless corn and vapid stares of the momma’s boys in Nebraska.
Maybe it’s not London. Maybe it’s Brash that you’re getting used to.
I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that my inner voice sounds like my best friend, or that subconscious Rori might be right.
Yesterday, Brash took me on a whirlwind tour of some of London’s most elaborate and over the top wedding venues. The Ned, as it turns out, really is the dog’s bollocks.
I shake my head to myself. I’ll never get over the expression, no matter how cool it means something is.
The Ned is a hotel and member’s club. The most grand and extravagant space I’ve ever stepped foot inside of. As much as I hate to say Brash is right about anything, Reed would absolutely love the idea of getting married in the old Midland bank building. I know my brother, and while he isn’t a big partier or over the top in most ways, he would appreciate the class and luxury of the venue Brash picked out.
It’s almost annoying how good my brother’s billionaire rockstar best friend i
s at, like, everything.
But I can’t help the little niggle of doubt nestled deep in my chest.
Brash has his best bud narrowed down to a tee.
But I know Rori just as well. The tiny stone chapel nestled among rows of roses could have been plucked from her childhood dreams. It isn’t nearly as trendy or over the top, but it’s perfect for her. I just know she’d feel like a princess getting married there, bathed in candlelight among the stone grottos and gardens.
Determined, I shower and change, ready to finalize plans with Brash once and for all.
It’s a short walk from my hotel to the rehearsal stage where he’s putting the finishing touches on his big show. I guess I could catch a cab, but I enjoy the light morning drizzle against my skin.
Under my rain jacket, I hug my wedding planning notebook to my chest.
I’m lucky Brash is who he is. There’s no way I could pull any of this off without the weight of his billions and all of his connections.
I laughed at his playful teasing yesterday, but Brash was right. It is better to be rich, to have power. And yet I’ve mostly seen him use that privilege to help other people again and again. I was never one of those people that enjoyed school. I went to classes, and I knew I had to put one foot in front of the other— because that’s how life works.
But these last few weeks have taught me so much about what I want, really want out of life. Traveling with Brash has shown me how important it is for me to see the world. How much I want to have fun in my life, how much I need that to feel satisfied in any career path I chose.