Chapter 25
RIO
I'm standing on this big-ass stage with my arms crossed tight over my chest while Prince Michael just keeps running his mouth.
Blah blah blah.
He's yakking about our performance tomorrow night. How Derek Ward of Midnight Records will be there. And how we need to sing like we’re locking in the deal. But I’m not even looking at him.
Maddie is sitting with Keith.
He’s chatting her up like I’ve seen him do with a million girls before. And she laughs—that bright, unguarded laugh that I thought belonged to me.
Only to me.
Her hand lightly taps his sleeve. It's nothing big, nothing dirty… but it twists something low in my gut.
Prince Michael keeps talking, but I’m barely hearing him.
Then my phone buzzes in my back pocket.
One vibration. Harmless.
I check it—
And everything stops.
"RIO WILDER'S FIANCéE CAUGHT CANOODLING WITH HIGH-ROLLING EX. TROUBLE IN PARADISE?"
I click the link, my thumb hovering over the screen.
A full-color picture of Maddie, my Maddie, pressed up against some slick douchebag in an expensive charcoal suit. His arms wrapped around her in a bear hug.
Maddie’s face is buried in his neck. The article says his name is Joseph, her ex-fiancé. And he's some bigshot finance guy.
My stomach lurches like I might puke.
Prince Michael calls me on it. “Rio? Are you listening?”
For a moment, I feel like shoving the phone in his face so he can read the story for himself. But I can’t move.
The reasonable part of my brain tries to calm myself down. "Chill, man. Photos lie. Let Maddie explain."
But the rest of me? The part that opened up to her last night? The part that tucked her into bed?
That part is seeing red.
I trusted her. I told her I was broken. And this is the thanks I get?
Running to her ex-fiancé the second I turn my back? What’s he doing in Vegas, anyway? Did she bring him with her?! I look up from my screen.
"You don't have to tell me how important the concert is, Prince Michael," I snap, cutting him off mid-sentence. Now get off my back."
Prince Michael throws up his hands and walks off stage.
I look up—and there they are. Maddie and Keith, laughing again.
The same easy warmth. The same openness she had last night when she was writhing in my arms, begging for my touch.
It hits twice as hard now that the tabloid poison is running through my veins.
I jump down from the stage and see Stella supervising the hotel crew refreshing our break table.
We hadn’t fully recognized one another until Prince Michael introduced us yesterday as the hotel’s special events concierge.
It must have been two years since we’d seen one another last.
Today she’s wearing a form-fitting black suit. But I still remember her naked curves from back in the day.
I wonder if she still has that tiny butterfly on her sweet ass.
I wondered the thing when we grabbed a quick drink at the bar for old time’s sake. But I didn’t allow myself to take things any further than that.
Today, aftr seeing that tabloid photo, it’s a whole new story.
“Rio, my favorite rockstar,” she says, breaking away from her crew to smile up at me. “I loaded up the snack table with those Cracker Jacks boxes you wanted.”
Then she catches the expression on my face. “Rough day, huh?”
"Brutal."
Stella glances over at Maddie. "I saw that tabloid story, Rio. Don't let that shake you. She wasn't even your fiancée for real."
I open my mouth to explain that Maddie had been more than that. But Stella wouldn't understand.
Oddly, her eagerness to blame Maddie makes me curious if there’s a a logical explanation.
“That tabloid photo could be trick photography," I say. "They're always after the kind of headlines that make people pay to read the story."
"Could be, but I bet it it isn't. Did you read the article? Her ex is in Las Vegas for a conference."
"Then maybe they just met by chance."
Why am I still defending Maddie? I feel hurt. Punched in the gut hurt. Exploited.
"Right,” says Stella. “And he immediately cupped her ass? You can't blame her, Rio. You told me this is just a temporary thing between you guys. Maybe she's just keeping her options open."
Her words land like a physical blow.
"In case I crash and burn? Is that what you're saying, Stella?"
“No, of course not. But your meltdown in New Orleans was just days ago. She might think that it could happen again. "
That's exactly what Maddie must think. That I'm a risk. That this is temporary. That I'm temporary.
With that tabloid photo burning a hole through my brain, I make a choice. If Maddie thinks I'm a disaster, maybe I should show her what a real disaster looks like.
I jump down from the stage. Then I glance at Maddie to make sure she’ll be watching the show.
"That dressing room you assigned me is great," I tell Stella. "But there’s a problem with the heater. Can you come see?”
“Sure. Let me call the engineer …”
Stella reaches for her phone, but I block the action with my hand.
“Just you. I think you may be able to fix it on your own.”
“Oh. I see,” she says, understanding coming into her eyes. “Yes. Of course.”
As we walk towards the dressing room, Maddie rushes up to us.
Good going. Right on cue.
"Maddie," I say, my voice cold. I don't back up an inch from Stella. "Stella, please meet Maddie. Maddie, Stella works for the hotel. She’s our personal concierge. Her job is to make sure we get what we need.”
They do that fake smile women do. Curving their lips upward over clenched teeth.
Then I slide my arm around Stella's waist. I see Maddie's gaze snap to my hand.
"She’s offered to fix this thing in my dressing room," I say, letting the implication hang heavy in the air.
Maddie’s face goes pale.
"Rio, wait—" she says, reaching out to grab the sleeve of my jacket. "Can we talk? What is this?"
I look at her hand on my sleeve. Then I look at her face.
For a second, I want to ask her what that tabloid snapshot was all about.
"Let's go," I say to Stella.
I let Stella lead me away, her fingers laced through mine like we've done this a hundred times.
Maddie stands there, frozen in the middle of the studio.
As I open my dressing room door, a flicker of guilt hits me.
But then the image flashes in my mind again. Maddie's body pressed against Joseph’s. Her laughing with Keith. Hedging her bets.
The guilt dies instantly.
No one breaks my heart and gets away with it.