CHAPTER 7
MATT
Right at nine o’clock the following morning, I waited for the guests to make it to breakfast, but none showed up.
There wasn’t even a sign of another life in the apartment; that was how quiet it was.
Another hour, I told myself.
The next hour came to be, but still no movement. I had to stifle the urge to knock down their bedroom doors and drag them outside.
Didn’t they hear what I said last night?
Breakfast meant anywhere between six and ten o’clock, and it was already ten.
They were already wasting my precious fucking time. It wasn’t like I had much to do this morning, but they were fucking screwing up my order.
It felt jarring inside my head and settled like an unwanted cloud around me.
Around eleven o’clock, a sleepy Raphael rolled out to the living room.
I sat quietly on the couch, glaring at him.
“Whoa.” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, stepping back. “Who killed your dog?”
“What time is it?” I asked in a low, cold tone.
He shrugged, yawning. “Early.”
“I told you we were having breakfast together.”
“Okay.” He smiled. “Let’s have it. I’m fucking starving. I hope you have bacon.”
“It’s past the time for that.”
“What?” His bewildered eyes locked with mine. “I can have bacon anytime, can’t I, Si?” He directed the question to the presence behind me.
I looked over my shoulder and watched Sierra padding out of her room, rubbing her eyes like her brother. Guess both the Chan siblings weren’t morning people.
“What?” she mumbled, crashing on the couch beside me.
The sun shone on the side of her face, fresh from sleep. It was glowing softly, curving along her button nose and pink lips. Her hair was a mess of tendrils framing her face, escaping from her wonky bun.
“Bacon, duh?”
“What bacon?”
“Tell the big man we can have bacon anytime.” He pointed toward me.
Her nose scrunched adorably. “Big man?” Her eyes slid to me, and they widened, fully awake now. “Yes, bacon.” She licked her lips. “We can have that anytime.”
I exhaled heavily.
Here we go again.
SIERRA
Matty Evans wasn’t just a silly celebrity dream anymore. I was breathing the same air as him. Not just that, I was living with him.
I was living with my favorite celebrity in the world while I competed in the tournament that would decide my fate.
Could life get any sweeter?
But get a grip, Sierra. You can’t act like the stupid idiot that you did yesterday.
I’d seen Matty Evans twice, and both times would be coined as the most embarrassing moments of my entire existence.
Honestly, I would blame my fucking brother again, who wouldn’t stop yapping the entire car ride here. He exhausted the fuck out of my bones. Even Mr. Tyler was forced to sit through the torture. Poor him.
But after this, it would be different. I couldn’t act like a crazy fangirl in front of Matty.
I internally sighed.
Matty.
I right about burst my ovaries when he asked me to call him Matty in his gruff, broody voice.
Focus,
Sierra.
I needed to think of him as a normal fucking person.
Matty Evans can’t find out I’m his number-one fan.
That would ruin everything.
And everything needed to go perfectly according to plan.
Because even if one domino crashes out of the path line, then I’d be fucked forever.
Victoria Chan was already waiting for me with a pitchfork at the city limits.
Normal, be normal.
I could be normal, right?
I was funny, beautiful, and kind. I needed Matty Evans to see the real version of me rather than the blushing, screaming fangirl I was on the inside.
“Have a seat.” Matty’s husky voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
We all entered his dining room, the table decked with an extensive spread of breakfast that could feed at least ten people. To say he was mad this morning would be an understatement; he was ready to slam Raphy through one of his glass windows.
But mad Matty was so adorable. I couldn’t believe I got to have the firsthand chance of seeing all these layered sides of him.
I was the luckiest fucking fan in the world.
It only made him out to be more human than a god, sitting in a chair, smashing his drums like he was built for it.
As I was going to settle in my chair, a rough, calloused hand closed around my wrist and tugged me away.
“You sit here,” Matty commanded, pinning me with his eyes. He pointed at the chair on his right that Raphy was just about to get into.
Raphael paused, volleying his gaze at us.
“Why?” My brows furrowed.
“Just do it.”
My hands curled on the side of my waist. “Just because I live with you doesn’t mean you get to command me like your dog.” I met him head-on. “Now tell me the real reason.”
A tense beat of silence passed.
Matty’s lips twitched. “You would hide the light.”
Hide the light? The room was swathed in sunlight. How the hell was I going to hide it? Maybe I would hide it for him since his seat was at the head of the table.
“Fine,” I huffed, switching seats with Raphy, who thankfully did not argue. But he was sporting a cheesy grin on his lips that grated my nerves. I knew he was itching to pull out a fangirl joke.
“So first things first,” Matty started as we all finally settled in our designated seats.
Matty at the head, me to his right and Raphy to his left.
“Wait.” I held out a hand, my eyes roaming over the feast. “First thing, did you make all this?” My wide eyes darted to him.
“No,” he muttered, staring blankly. “I ordered it.”
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” I said with awe, tossing a piece of fruit into my mouth. “But you don’t have to worry about cooking anymore. I’m the most amazing cook I know,” I declared proudly.
“Yeah, right,” Raphy said with his mouth full of French toast.
“Not what you said when you scarfed down my muffins,” I countered, fixing him with a glare.
Matty let out a loud sigh. “Can we please concentrate?”
“Yes, sir.” Raphael saluted him.
Matty’s left eye twitched.
Fuck, he was getting really mad.
“Please continue,” I said softly, placing my hand over his arm. “We won’t interrupt you.”
He nodded before his eyes dragged to my fingers, which were clutching his huge, veiny forearm like it was the easiest thing I’d ever done.
Fuck, I touched Matty Evans without even thinking. But he felt warm and strong and nice…
Matty Evans felt nice.
That was a weird conclusion to arrive at.
Matty cleared his throat, gesturing to my hand.
“Ah, yes.” I jerked my hand like I’d been electrocuted. “Sorry.”
“So first things first,” he started again. “I take security very seriously. You’re both under my care now and my responsibility, so if anything happens to you, it falls on me. I want you both safe while you’re with me.”
Ah, my heart. Did Matty Evans just say he wanted me to be safe?
“…so don’t share the building code with anyone. Don’t engage with someone wanting to know anything about the band. Some paps and reporters will go to great lengths to get the story out, so be vigilant and careful. Don’t unnecessarily mention that you’re living with me unless it’s someone you trust. Also, no guests without letting me know first. I’m a pretty private person, and I’d like to stay that way.”
“I know,” I breathed.
He paused, his eyes snapping to mine. “How do you know?”
Did I say that out loud? “Like… you know how you say, you know, or I know. For example, you say the sky is pretty and I say I know,” I blubbered, waving my hands. “It’s like that, you know. Like I know like that I know. Because how the hell would I know if you’re private or not? That’s blasphemous. I don’t follow you around like a stalker. Only a crazy fan would do that. I’m certainly not that.”
Matty blinked. I think the man was shocked for the first time in his life.
I shoved my foot in my mouth, didn’t I?
Raphy snorted, cupping his hand over his mouth like he was fighting a laugh.
Matty nodded, pressing a finger to his brow. “So where was I? Yes, security, I think you both get that. So let’s move on to some house rules…”
I rested my chin on my fist as I tried hard to pay attention, but his words drifted right past my head. Because I couldn’t stop looking at him.
Maybe he was right about the lighting because the sun acted like an accent light illuminating all his gorgeous features, hitting at the right angles.
Sharp cut jawline. Seafoam eyes. Straight nose.
His buzz-cut dirty-blond hair was cut so close to his hairline that it looked darker than it should. In every picture, he sported the same hairstyle. I wondered how he’d look with longer hair. But then, who was I kidding? He could probably pull off any hairstyle.
He was God’s favorite child, after all.
“Did you get all that?” Matty’s question wrenched me out of my gawking.
“Yes,” I blurted, to which, at the same time, Raphy said, scratching his head, “I think I got most of it. But it was like a boring algebra class in school.”
Matty sighed, then pulled out a folder and slid it to Raphy. “This is your schedule for the next month. Ollie, my assistant, will be your temporary manager till we sort everything out. K will… sorry, Katy’s the band’s manager—”
“And your sister. I know, man,” Raphy said.
Matty nodded. “She will send you an email with all the other details. Your vocal lessons started an hour ago, by the way. Stein doesn’t condemn tardiness, so you better get moving if you don’t want to get on his bad side. He’s waiting for you at the studio next door.”
“What? Now!?” Raphy groaned, throwing his hands.
Matty fixed him with a glare. “This is not a vacation. You’re here to work. And I expect serious commitment from you.”
“But still, big man.” Raphy pouted. “It’s only day one.”
“There is another clause in the contract. Did you know that?” Matty smirked. “I can also terminate this anytime.”
“What!?” Raphy startled. “You won’t do that. You love me.”
“I don’t.” Matty tilted his chin as he regarded him. “And I can do anything I want. It’s my label.”
“Fine.” Raphy shot to his feet like a petulant child. “I’ll go,” he muttered, stealing a croissant from the table as he left.
Silence filled the room as I watched his back disappear out the door.
My eyes slowly darted to Matty, and I flushed when I saw his eyes were fixed on me. So pale, so green, both lacing together to form a shade that was sage in one light and turquoise in another.
Even his eyes were godlike.
Did God forget the rest of us existed?
“I’ll clean up. You can go.” He gestured toward my plate.
It was only then that I realized that I’d been gawking at him like a fool.
“No, that’s okay,” I replied. “I can clean up. You set all this up.” I was already on my feet, grabbing the plates and the bread basket.
“I don’t expect you to. You’re a guest,” he said, following me as he lifted a few plates himself.
“In the Chan household, guests help too.” I flashed him a smile, faltering when I saw him staring right at me.
The burn in my cheeks only deepened as I quickly dropped my gaze back to the dishes.
He seemed to be doing that a lot.
Staring at me.
My heart fluttered at that thought, but I toned it down. He could be looking at me for a million different reasons, right?
For example, I could have an annoying hair out of place or have food on my face, and he could be thinking what a dumb dork he ended up living with.
He certainly could not be staring at me because he admired the view, right?
The view was as ragged as it could get because I knew how I looked after I dragged myself out of bed. It was anything but cute.
“I can wash this up,” I offered just as we placed all the dishes in the sink.
“No, I’ll just put them in the dishwasher. I have a cleaner come up twice a week, so she’ll handle that.”
I scrunched up my nose as I peered at him. “It’s going to stink till then.”
He shrugged. “It usually doesn’t.”
“Trust me, it will. You can’t imagine all the bacteria collecting if you leave it like that.”
His eyes widened. Adorable. “Is it?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll do it then. You don’t have to,” he said, opening a counter as he retrieved a sponge and dish soap.
I stilled as I watched him pour half a bottle’s worth of soap on the sponge and turn the tap on full blast and run the sponge under it. The force of the water bounced off the plate, and bubbles and lather went flying everywhere.
“Fuck,” he cursed, rubbing the sponge all over the plate, which only made more of a mess.
I sprang into motion and turned off the faucet. I slowly brought my eyes to him. “You’ve never washed dishes, have you?”
“No,” he muttered.
“It’s okay.” I carefully took hold of the plate he was clutching in his hands. “I’ll do it. It’s no biggie.”
He reluctantly nodded.
Within minutes, I washed all the dishes, while he served as my good assistant, wiping them down and putting them all away.
“There finished,” I said, smiling. “Now we can relax.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Do you like coffee or tea? I’ll treat you to one,” he asked, propping his hip against the marble countertop.
“I like both, but I’m more of a soda person.”
“I don’t have any.”
“It’s alright. I’ll get some. I’m assuming you don’t cook as well?”
A faint flush tinted his cheeks. “No.”
“Figured. But don’t worry. Like I said, I’ll take care of that. I like to cook.”
It took a moment before he nodded. “Thank you.”
My lips curved into a wide smile. “I’ll go get the groceries in a few and whip something up. Do you like pasta?”
“I don’t mind.” He fished something out of his pocket. “Here, I wanted to give you this. You can use it for any house expenses or anything at all if you want.”
“What is it?” I retrieved the black card from him. “A credit card?” I raised a brow. “I don’t want it.”
“Keep it anyway. I actually wanted to give it to your brother, but I wasn’t sure if he’d be responsible.”
“It’s wise you didn’t. But I don’t really need this. I can buy a few groceries on my own. I would like to contribute too.”
“Sierra.” His lips drawled my name like warm, dripping honey. “Your brother is my artist, and I intend to take good care of him and, by extension, you.”
I didn’t say a word.
“At least for the groceries.” He sighed. “Please.”
I exhaled. “Fine, only for groceries.” My fingers traced along his name etched on it. “But what if I go to use this and get into trouble? It’s your name that’s on it. What if they think I stole it?”
“I’m sure they won’t. But if it worries you, I’ll call the bank and add your name to it.”
My eyes rounded. “You can’t do that. What if I steal all your millions and buy myself a yacht?”
His lips twitched. “A yacht?”
“Seems like something a rich person would buy,” I mumbled, feeling dumb all of a sudden.
“Not all. But we do have a jet if you want.”
My tone laced with awe. “I’ve never been on an airplane before.”
“Really?” he questioned, eyes gleaming. “I’m sure that will change soon. Your brother will have plenty of shows in other cities.”
I nodded, smiling. “I know he is a clown most of the time, but he works really hard, and he is really passionate when it comes to his music.”
“I think I know,” he said softly.
It was only then that it dawned on me that I was having a conversation with Matty Evans like he was a normal person, forgetting the fact that he was a rock god.
I guess I could do this after all.