Her Billionaire Rockstar

by Regina Wade

  Beth blinks at me, a slow grin spreading across her face.

  “Are you sure about that, Knight? I’ve always wanted a castle.”

  I chuckle, pulling her up to kiss her. She’s far more enthusiastic this time.

  “It’s a good thing I already own one, then, isn’t it?” I grin back at her.

  Her eyes go wide. “You do not.”

  I shrug. “I do. I always thought, you know, if I was going to be a right proper Englishman, I ought to at least own a castle.”

  She giggles, rubbing herself against me. The soapy water makes us just slick enough for her to slide her entire body back and forth against mine.

  Definitely the best loofah I’ve ever had.

  She slips around, putting her back to me, resting on top of me in the water. Most of the bubbles have dissipated by now, and her curves peek at me as they just breach the surface. The view is to die for.

  “Alright, well, I guess I have to stick around until I see the castle,” Beth says with a sly smile, her eyes closed.

  I grin down at her, even though she can’t see it.

  “That’s the spirit. Now, let me show you how I plan to keep you after that,” I say as I move my fingers down her body, reaching between her thighs.

  “Oh fuck —” Beth gasps as I brush against her dripping wet pussy. Her eyes slam open, back arching, leaving her mostly out of the water as I begin to pluck her strings.

  It doesn’t take me long at all to find the right tempo and rhythm to send Beth careening over the edge of an earth-shattering orgasm. Water splashes down around us, soaking the floor like she soaks my hand.

  “Well, I guess I’ll stick around for that too,” Beth murmurs, half-dazed and eyes glazed. I chuckle, pulling her close again.

  “We better get dressed before I decide to take you for round three. We do have a wedding to attend, after all.”

  “We could always skip it?” Beth asks teasingly. Her innocent smile is almost convincing, too.

  I shake my head, pretending to be stern.

  “Beth Baker, you will not play hooky after we went to all the trouble of creating the perfect wedding.” I wag my finger at her. Her eyes light up as she lunges forward and bites it playfully.

  I sigh, shaking my head.

  “And to think, when I met you you were just turning over a new leaf, too. What got into you?”

  “You did. Repeatedly, I might add.” She rolls over, plants a kiss on my mouth, and stretches like a cat. I take a moment to appreciate the sweet arch of her back — an arch I’ve seen a lot of in the last week.

  It’s hard not to believe in fate, destiny, or some form of higher power when a girl who looks like that looks at me the way Beth does.

  “Shit, is it really almost noon?” Beth moves with a sudden urgency, practically jumping out of the tub. Her foot hits the wet tiles and she slips, but I’m already there, steadying her.

  “Easy, love. A broken neck would really dampen the evening.”

  She gives me a quick hug, pressing her lips to my cheek.

  “You really are a knight, huh?”

  I give her my best cocky grin.

  “Not yet, but there’s always hope the Queen will come to her senses about that.”

  It doesn’t take Beth as long as I fear it will to get ready. Her Maid of Honor dress is a simple rose gold number that hugs her curves but leaves everything covered. Sleek satin with a full skirt. The chaste, good-girl dress that everyone expects from Beth Baker, reformed rebel.

  Everyone but me, that is.

  Chapter 9

  Beth

  Yesterday. Love was such an easy game to play. Now I need a place to hide away. — The Beatles, ‘Yesterday’

  “Oh Beth, it was all so perfect— like a dream come true.”

  Rori’s arms are around my neck. I can’t count the number of tearful hugs she’s inflicted on me since the start of the reception, but the fact that I’m starting to get bruising around my neck from the force of her hugs tells me Brash and I knocked it out of the park when it comes to my bff’s big day.

  Seeing Rori burst into happy tears at the sight of the chapel decked out in miles of candlelight and rows of fresh roses was enough to let me know we’d made the right choice. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house when she and Reed exchanged their heartfelt vows beneath the scented flower arch in the last glimmers of London twilight. And when Brash’s personal helicopters arrive to escort guests to the sprawling reception experience at The Ned, my own pulse began to race with excitement.

  Brash was right— weddings should also be parties. And my new man sure as hell knows how to throw one of those, too.

  Everything about Rori and Reed’s big day is spectacular.

  And, true to his word, Brash makes sure that everything goes off without a hitch. There’s security outside, ushers to keep things running smoothly. Photographers capture every moment. Caterers and bartenders. If there’s a detail I overlooked, it seems Brash already thought of it.

  Even the stubborn ring bearer couldn’t have performed better. It was only after the fact that I learned Brash had bribed him to be on his best behavior.

  Hours later, breathless and flushed, I find a place to sit down for the first time all day. Running a wedding like this must be what commanding a battle must feel like. Looking around, I kick my heels off, once again regretting the decision to sacrifice comfort for not being the shortest person in the bridesmaid photo.

  “There’s my girl,” Brash sweeps into the luxurious lounge where I’ve come to catch my breath. “Having fun, love?”

  In one smooth motion, He scoops my legs up, settling on the sleep grey couch next to me before depositing my legs in his lap. I open my mouth to say something about the impropriety of getting a foot rub in a formal gown during my brother’s wedding. But then the ball of my aching foot is in Brash’s talented hands.

  Everything I was about to say melts away in my brain as his fingers go to work on the sore soles of my feet.

  “Oh my god. You know, you could make a career out of this,” I say with a contented sigh.

  “Yeah, I’ll fall back on this if music doesn’t work out, you know,” Brash says, a grin on his face.

  I can’t even formulate a coherent reply to his playful sarcasm. The stress being rubbed out of my feet feels far too divine.

  “Oh, look at you two. Getting along a bit better now, huh?” Rori sashays into the room. She takes a seat opposite us with a wink.

  I study her for a moment. Her Vera Wang gown must have cost a fortune, because it’s utterly perfect. Strapless. Sleek. The perfect, elegant, classic dress. Thoughts of what something similar to that would look like on me flit across my mind, and for once I don’t dismiss them. My mind trips back to the first night in Brash’s hotel, when he’d skimmed through the wedding folder with me. I wonder what he thinks of all my own silly girlhood wedding dreams?

  “What happened to the reception outfit we picked out?” I ask, furrowing my brow at Rori, still in the chapel dress. She was supposed to change out of it hours ago.

  “Girl, have you seen this dress? I’m not ever taking it off. They’ll have to cut it off me,” Rori jokes, gesturing to indicate the full gown.

  “Reed might just do that if you don’t take it off for the wedding night,” Brash jokes. I catch his eye, and I can’t help but bite my lip. I know he’s teasing, but I can also far too easily imagine him doing the same to me.

  “He can try, but we’ll be throwing a funeral next week if he harms a single thread on this. Speaking of which, Brash, can you go find him? I lost him somewhere over near that chandelier —”

  “That one? The third from the back?” Brash takes his hand off my foot to point, and I moan at the loss.

  “No, no, the big one over there,” Rori corrects.

  “Sure thing, love. Back in a flash. You girls have fun,” Brash straightens up, planting a sweet kiss on my lips before launching himself into the crowd of family and friends.

&n
bsp; “I might never forgive you for interrupting that foot rub, you know,” I pout at my best friend, exaggerating it, sticking my bottom lip out at her.

  “Oh, hush. It’s my wedding day, I can do what I want. Besides, aren’t you going to get another rockstar rubdown later?” She waggles her eyebrows at me, just as over-the-top as my pout was.

  I gasp, putting a hand over my heart. “Why, Rori Baker. My new sister-in-law. Are you trying to imply that I am something other than a pure and innocent maiden?”

  Rori rolls her eyes at me.

  “You’ve never been pure or innocent, just good at playing the part.”

  I shrug, a wicked grin crossing my face.

  “Well, I was still pure even if I wasn’t very innocent. At least, until last week…” I trail off leadingly.

  “Come on, spill. Tell me all about that rockstar love,” Rori says with a wicked gleam in her eye.

  I shake my head.

  “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” I say coyly.

  “Bullshit. I’m a lady, and I’d be happy to tell you all about it —” Rori says, a devilish gleam in her eye.

  My hand moves of its own volition, slapping over the mouth of my new sister.

  “Rori. No. I know you love him, but he’s still my brother,” I say, a pained expression on my face.

  She wiggles out from behind my hand triumphantly.

  “Exactly! Which is why you’ve got to tell me all the details. Quench my thirst for sexy gossip, please!”

  I shake my head at her, but I can’t keep a small grin off my face.

  “I can neither confirm nor deny anything. All I’ll say is the Brash truly does have some magic fingers.”

  Rori groans and shakes her head at me.

  “Come on, let me live vicariously through you. I’m married now, isn’t that a rule?” She says, eyes sparkling with mischief.

  I stare at her in disbelief.

  “Rori. You married your dream guy in a dream place with a dream dress. You don’t need to live vicariously. You’re living your best life.” I say, gesturing around us.

  She leans back, grinning.

  “Yeah, you’re still not getting out of this. I know you want to brag about him, it’s written all over your face. Come on. Just give me a tidbit. A morsel of delicious depravity. It’s my wedding day, after all.”

  I roll my eyes at the antics of my BFF. Some things never change.

  “Alright, alright. I’ll tell you one thing, you promise you’ll let it be?”

  “Girl Scouts honor,” She says, holding up her hand.

  I narrow my eyes at her. “You weren’t ever a girl scout, Rori. I know because I wasn’t, and if I wasn’t you weren’t.”

  She shrugs. “Girls honor, then? I don’t know any sign for that. A vee? No, that’s Star Trek —”

  I laugh, hiding my face in my hands.

  “Oh my god, you’re impossible. Okay, okay. Listen. You know how Brash can play concerts for six, seven hours straight?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Stam. In. A. That ain’t all he can do for six hours straight.”

  Rori collapses in a fit of giggles, and I can’t help but join her. My best friend has always had a contagious laugh. It’s part of why we’ve been such good friends for so long. We make each other laugh.

  We’re still laughing a few minutes later when the boys finally arrive.

  “There she is, mate, I told you I knew where to find her,” Brash says as they approach.

  “How did you manage to get lost on your wedding day?” Reed asks Rori as he pulls her up to her feet beside him.

  She shrugs. “I wasn’t lost. I was with Beth. You got stolen by that awful cousin of yours —”

  “Enzo isn’t awful, he just has a very European outlook on life,” Reed starts.

  “Hey, mate, what’s that supposed to mean, eh?” Brash asks, elbowing Reed in the side.

  “I mean he’s, you know, sophisticated. Serious,” Reed starts, but I shake my head, clucking my tongue at him.

  “What my brother means is that cousin Enzo is a criminal,” I say, taking a sip of my own drink. I can’t help it. That side of the family has always been a sore spot for me. Cousin Enzo and his sister are how I ended up arrested by seventeen.

  Reed sighs as Rori breaks into another fit of giggles. Brash leans over, pulling me up to my feet.

  “Come on, love, I’ve got to go do my best man speech. Give me a kiss for good luck?” Brash leans down, his brilliant blue eyes shining brightly enough that for a moment, nothing else exists. For a moment, all I can do is stare into his eyes, lost in them.

  Then my lips brush against his slight stubble, giving him his prize.

  “Knock them dead, baby,” I say with a grin. As Brash turns to go, I give him a slap on the butt.

  “What? You need all the luck you can get.” I deadpan as he turns to shoot me another sly grin. Rori erupts into laughter again. She’s still laughing as Reed scoops her up and begins to carry her away.

  “Alright, I’m taking her up to our room to change. She’ll kill me if I hurt that dress later,” He grins at me as he carries my best friend off.

  I stretch, feeling the fatigue of the day beginning to settle onto my shoulders. Part of me wants to join Reed and Rori in fleeing this party. I’m enjoying myself, but there’s something to be said for a piece of peace and quiet after a hard day’s work.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention please?” Brash’s signature growl purrs in my ear like he’s standing right behind me. A wave of goosebumps erupts across my skin.

  Five days, well, five nights really, and he’s already conditioned me to get wet at the sound of his voice in my ear.

  “Hi. I’m Brash. Some of you may know me, and those few of you who know me really well know I’m shite at making speeches.” The crowd laughs, claps, and hollers at him.

  I peek over the crowd, catching sight of Brash. Even on the small stage of the reception hall of the Ned, he looks like a true, blue rockstar. His stage presence is such that I feel like I’m at one of his shows, and not a wedding reception.

  Brash swings the guitar he has slung over one shoulder around in front of himself, plucking one chord. Everyone knows it, and there’s a hushed excitement in the gathered onlookers, a murmur of disbelief.

  Are we really getting a live performance of the biggest rockstar’s greatest hit?

  “Now, I could say a lot about Reed and Rori, but I’ve always believed that if it’s worth saying, it’s worth singing. So guys, this one’s for you.”

  Chapter 10

  Brash

  I’m just a soul whose intentions are good. Oh lord please don’t let me be misunderstood. — The Animals, ‘Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood’

  I keep the performance relatively short, launching straight from hit to hit.

  I might be a big-time star now, but when I started out I cut my teeth doing any gig I could. Lounges, pubs, cruise ships, weddings. Hell, I did a bat mitzvah once.

  The point is, this isn’t my first rodeo. I know what a wedding crowd wants to hear, and baby, you better believe I give it to them.

  Halfway through I see Reed and Rori waving at me from the back of the hall. Sneaking out in the middle of their own reception, before anyone else can swarm them to offer congratulations or ask for another picture.

  Smart couple. I’m glad I met them when I did. I’m glad I got their blessing for the next thing I’m about to do. Makes me feel better. Some things should be a surprise, but no one should be surprised at their own wedding, right?

  I finish up the last song, bid the crowd a good-night, and disappear behind the curtain that’s serving for backstage.

  One. Two. Three—

  “Encore!” The shout comes right as I expect it.

  You do enough shows, perform enough, you get a good sense of a crowd. How to judge them. Crowds come in all manner of flavors. I mostly get some mixture of happy, high, drunk and riled up. This wedding, by comparison, is p
retty tame — even if I did see a few cousins giving me the most obvious bedroom eyes I’ve ever seen.

  Not that they appealed in the least. Beth is the only girl in the world for me. She might not know it yet, but she’s about to find out.

  I glance up at the clock. Ten seconds to midnight. Perfect. I tap my feet, letting the urgency in the crowd build. Manipulating a mob is also a must-have skill for any performer. Letting the tension build, letting the cries turn raucous without souring or spoiling the goodwill you’ve built up.

  It’s a lot like foreplay, in fact. Knowing how to stretch a moment out, let the electricity spark between you until it’s overpowering, too much to handle. And at that peak —

  “Alright, boys and girls. I hear you. One more time from the top, yeah?”

  The cheers that meet my ears are just as deafening here as they are at Wembley Stadium.

  I give the crowd my song, and they give me their love. As I double the chorus, I drop the tempo, playing a stripped-down, mellow version of the classic.

  “Alright folks. It’s time for me to get real for a second. See, all my life I’ve been a bit of an asshole.”

  I pluck a sour note on my Gibson, and the crowd laughs right on time.

  “Right? I mean, kind of comes with the territory. Rockstar. That’s not just money, it’s money and fame. That stuff goes to your head faster than any drug in this world. Trust me, I’ve tried them all.”

  Another laugh. I scan the crowd, looking for one particular set of bottle-green eyes.

  “Well, almost. There’s one thing that trumps all the others. Leaves you flying higher than anything you could ever find. Love.”

  There’s a murmur in the crowd. The sea of bodies is swaying back and forth at my words, hypnotized by my cadence.

  All except one. There’s one particular person who stands out. Stiff. Unsure of where this is going. Nervous.