Chapter 12 #2
The singer from Hedonist regarded me from over the rail, a smirk pulling at her lips and her half-black, half-white hair in a frizzy updo. “What are you doing in my room?”
I laughed, shaking out my hands, trying to calm my speeding heartbeat. “I’m so sorry. I was… It’s been non-stop for twenty-four hours, and I needed a minute.”
The woman, Effie, gestured to a sofa. “Take a seat. I’ll be out of here in five. We’re onstage soon.”
“You sure?” I sat lightly, maybe a tiny bit starstruck.
Effie emerged from her hiding place—I guessed she’d been privately smoking a joint from the smell—and sat on a chair in front of the mirror. She hit the switch for the lights then touched up her makeup, layering on glitter to her wing-tipped eyeliner, and I stared, fascinated.
“Gotta say, big fan here. Just putting that out there in case I accidentally fangirl.”
In the mirror’s reflection, the woman smirked, keeping her gaze on me. “No problem, you don’t look dangerous. You know, actually, you seem familiar.”
“I do?” My heart sank. I had email alerts set up in case my name appeared on any news or gossip articles, but so far so good.
Her eyes narrowed, and she examined me closer. “What’s your name?”
“Taylor. Taylor McRae.” I lied smoothly, marrying myself off to my Scot in my panic.
Effie shrugged. “Nope. That rings no bells. My mistake, I guess.”
It wasn’t. She’d played at a White House party last year. I’d been there with Dad and, though we hadn’t done anything other than shake hands, the woman clearly had an excellent memory.
The door swung open, and a lackey stuck his head inside. “Two minutes, Effie.”
She stood and slammed the door in his face, yelling, “I know!”
Then she blew a lock of hair from her forehead and rolled her eyes. “They keep doing that. Like one of them will catch me naked. Assholes.”
With a final check of her reflection, the singer gave me a wink and exited the room, leaving me on the couch.
I’d been complacent, not expecting anyone to know me outside of the States, but tonight had been a close call. I hadn’t been subtle with William. I’d publicly kissed him—and worse—with no fear of being recognised.
What if Effie remembered?
What if, after the engagement announcement, she sold the story of my last weeks as a single woman? It would get her publicity.
That had consequences.
Dad had warned me to keep my affairs concealed.
Bringing my knees up to hug my arms around them, I gulped. Should I leave the tour? I couldn’t risk my father carrying out his threats. And if the engagement didn’t go ahead, I had no doubt that he’d unleash the vindictive side that fuelled his battles with Mom.
But leaving William…
Noise came from the hall. I straightened up. If Viking Blue had finished, we could get out of here. No way was I walking away right at this second.
As a minimum, I’d make the most of the drive time William and I were about to share. Our days together were numbered. There was so much we had to do.
Leaping to my feet, I swung open the door. Outside, Rex was passing, his arm slung around his bandmate’s neck and their publicist in tow.
“Oi oi!” He spotted me. “What did ye think of that? We slayed, aye?”
Then he lurched forwards and grabbed me into a squeeze.
Sweat rolled off him onto me. I froze. If this had been anyone else, anywhere else, I’d have kneed him in the balls, but William had told me how important this job was to him. How he hoped it would be the foundation for his career.
So, with gritted teeth, I took the forced hug then politely stepped away.
Rex’s mouth slid into a wide grin, appearing unaware of his boundary smashing. “The afterparty starts now. Follow me.”
“I’ll wait for my boyfriend,” I stated, nice and clearly.
“Find him later on the tour bus.”
“We’re not getting the bus,” William’s voice sounded above my head.
Relieved more than was reasonable, I peeked back at him.
He ran his gaze over me then held me to his chest. “Everything all right?” he asked.
“The fuck? Ye are.” Rex gave a laugh, but his smile dropped, and confusion took over his expression. “I want the party shots. Then the all-nighter we’re going to pull on the road. People puking and passed out.”
“Well, I’m not sure we want that extreme an image—” the publicist started.
“Not everyone has to dance for ye twenty-four seven. Use your phone if you want photos of your shite.” His band mate, a grumpy big man, pulled a face. “Ignore him,” he said to us. “He’s overexcited by tonight.”
“Fuck off,” Rex said to his friend. “What’s the fucking point of having a fucking expensive photographer if he’s not around to capture the good shit?”
Rex’s bandmate tried to reason with him, and I bit my lip because William had been around them, almost solidly since we’d got here.
“I’m working to what we agreed,” William said, calm but serious. “The gig tonight was the last event in Paris. The next is the gig in Milan. No promo shots needed until there, ye said. That’s tomorrow night. So we’re out of here.”
“Fuck.” Rex weaved on his feet. His frustration melted, and he focused on the publicist. “Is he right?”
The publicist gave a wide-eyed but pacifying explanation, and then Rex waved him to stop before turning back to William.
“I still want those pictures. Are ye sure you won’t get the bus? It’ll be a riot.”
William gave me a quick look, a question in his eyes. I gave a tiny head shake, and he turned on his heel, taking me with him. “See ye all in Italy,” he called to the band and crew.
The group that had assembled gave their replies, but we were heading for the door and finally on our way to being alone.
Outside, in the cold Parisian night air, William clamped me to his side, and we marched across the venue’s carpark. “What happened before I got there?”
“He only hugged me. It was gross but no big deal,” I replied.
William stopped. “He touched ye?” His gaze leapt back the way we’d come.
“He seemed high more than handsy. Tomorrow, I’ll steer well clear,” I joked, but then I caught the look in William’s eye, and my jaw dropped. I stared at him and the anger that glittered in his gaze.
“No man has a right to touch a woman.”
Awe struck my heart. I liked this possessive side. “What would you have done if you’d seen it?”
“Grabbed him off ye. Smacked his face.”
Delight filled me. “But you’d lose your job!”
William gave a short laugh, humour replacing a small part of the anger. “Aye, I probably would.”
I pounced, throwing my arms around him, because that right there was way too much. As well as being a huge, ginormous turn-on. “Don’t. Not for me. But thank you. I’m really touched.”
William stroked my spine then pulled me with him, moving once more towards our car. Once inside, he turned that lovely thoughtful expression of his on me and sat for a moment.
“Ye know, I don’t think you’ve ever had a single person in your life who’d put you first. Am I right?”
I blinked. “That’s… I mean, I don’t…”
He grinned and started the engine. “For as long as you’re mine, Taylor Vandenberg, ye better get used to it. Because if that man touches you again, or anyone else lays a finger on ye without your permission, they answer to me. Fuck the consequences.”
My answering giggle, made of nerves and a continuing sense of wonder, had him shake his head in amusement then take off into the dark night.
Fuck the consequences indeed. I’d never let him lose his job, but that speech was about the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me.