Chapter 8
IAIN
Ivaulted up out of my chair and got into Jean-Luc’s face.
So did all my brothers.
The show’s crew crowded around us, and everyone started yelling at the same time. Jean-Luc was screaming at Brodie, but Brodie gave it right back. He never backed down from any fight.
Van stepped up to us, along with Dawson and Lennie. Van took hold of Brodie’s arm and said something quietly to Brodie, calming him down—a bit.
I started in for Jean-Luc, but Dawson put his body between me and my target.
“Who cleared those questions?” I demanded over the din. “And where the fuck is Harlow?”
“I’m right here.”
Harlow finally appeared beside Brodie.
“What the hell, guys?” Harlow scoffed. “Can’t you even do one interview without it becoming a scandalous headline?”
“Us?” Brodie snapped and pointed at Jean-Luc. “He was the one asking invasive questions that we were not prepared to answer. I thought we made it clear back in December that kind of shit isn’t tolerated.”
“Did you vet the questions?” I asked Harlow point blank.
He glared at me. “It’s the highest-rated and most-viewed entertainment program in France. There was no need.”
“Sorry, but I beg to differ,” Van bit out. “Your job is to protect the band, not let some reporter ambush them like that.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re not in charge anymore, Van, so keep your opinions to yourself!”
“Don’t you dare fucking talk to him like that!” Brodie charged at Harlow.
Lennie stepped in front of him, barring any further escalation.
“Lennie!” Dawson yelled out. “Everyone to the green room, now!”
Suddenly, we were all ushered away from the stage to the pre-show guest room.
Me and the guys were fucking furious—swearing and pacing back and forth. Well, they were.
I was more shocked than angry at this point.
Van took Brodie in his arms and started whispering in his ear, and I watched as my friend finally nodded and visibly calmed.
Dawson had taken hold of my arm and hadn’t let go. And for once, I appreciated his protection. I admit, I leaned into him and appreciated his warmth. I was freezing. So fucking cold that I was trembling.
“Are you okay?” Dawson whispered.
“No. And before you ask, I don’t want to talk about it.”
The question about my mom had rattled me. Badly. I was lightheaded, and my hands were shaking.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? This isn’t your fault,” I replied and pointed at Harlow. “He’s the one who should apologize. He’s too busy on his phone kissing Greg Haddley’s ass to do his job.”
Greg was our boss and a cagey asshole. Long story short, Greg had outed Van to the media at the onset of his relationship with Brodie, and we were having none of it. Once our contract was done, so were we.
Still, we stuck to our agreement and didn’t publicly comment on the feud.
“Don’t start, Holloway,” Harlow snapped. “I work my ass off. Unlike some people who spend more time fucking around than playing actual music.”
My shock turned to anger, and I lunged forward. “You asshole—”
I made self-deprecating remarks about my fuckboy reputation, and my band brothers teased me, but that was it. They never questioned my ability or my dedication to our music.
Dawson quickly swiveled, stepping in front of me, still not letting go.
Gripping both of my arms, he glanced down at me with concern in his eyes.
My stomach flipped over, just like it did before I took to the stage.
I could feel the heat of his hands burning through my leather jacket, and foolishly, I wanted to step closer to him.
Instead, I nodded and said, “I’m okay,” and he looked over his shoulder.
“Not one more word, Harlow. I fucking mean it,” Dawson boomed. “I will not hesitate to report you to Regan and Greg. Xavier, take him to the elevator and bring him back to the hotel. We’re gonna stay here and cool down for a while before we head out.”
Xavier motioned to the door and stepped beside Harlow.
“Don’t touch me,” Harlow growled. “I’m going.”
Once Harlow was gone, I finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Dawson gave me a reassuring squeeze and let go.
I wanted to say “don’t”. No matter how crazy I drove him, and vice versa, I always knew he was looking out for me. The question about my mom had emotions I didn’t want to deal with rising to the surface, and I suddenly longed for comfort.
From Dawson, of all people.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked out loud, stunned by my reaction.
I wasn’t just referring to what had happened in that interview…
“That was our manager selling us out,” Brodie scoffed.
“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” Van added. “But he did drop the ball. Several balls.”
“That’s ’cause he has none himself,” Faise snapped. “I told him, no questions about my brother. That’s a hard no. Not to mention Iain’s mom. Jesus Christ!”
There was a knock at the door, and a woman with a severe brunette bob and a sharp suit stepped forward.
“I’m Lilianne Germain, the producer of the show. I just want to clarify something and make sure everyone is okay.”
Brodie was about to rip into her, but Van stepped forward. “The guys were not prepared for some of those questions, Ms. Germain.”
“Mr. Hines was asked, in advance, if there were any topics Jean-Luc should avoid, any hard limits. We sent him the list of questions by email, and he said there were no issues.”
Van shook his head. “And that didn’t surprise you?”
The woman’s cool facade cracked for a split second. “As I said, he confirmed that we were good to go. That’s all we needed. I’m sorry if everyone in the band was unprepared, but that’s not our fault. Also, the comment made by Mr. James about Jean-Luc was totally inappropriate.”
“Thanks for the clarification, but don’t expect any apology. I don’t give them,” Brodie snapped.
“Given your reputation, Mr. James, I’m not at all surprised,” she remarked. “We hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in Paris.”
We grumbled out “sure,” “yeah,” and “yup.” She didn’t look impressed and quickly turned and left the room.
“What’s next on our agenda?” Faise asked. “And please tell me it includes booze.”
“You have a private table booked at a nearby restaurant, and then the rest of the night is open,” Dawson replied as he checked his phone.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m beat from traveling and we have rehearsal tomorrow,” Ronin commented. “Let’s go have a nice meal, some wine, and chill. We can hit a club another night.”
“I have a suggestion—" I started.
“The strip club can wait.” Brodie smirked.
“Haha. I was going to say I’d like our security team to join us for dinner. A thank you for intervening in that situation.”
Often, Dawson and his team would sit at a nearby table, keeping an eye. Sometimes, on the road, they’d join us for meals but usually watching over us, not as part of the group.
“That’s a great idea,” Faise encouraged. “Holls is right. You guys saved us from taking that situation from bad to worse. It’s the least we can do.”
“Uh, I’ll run it by Regan, but it should be fine. Thanks,” Dawson replied, his face flushed.
The big guy was all kinds of adorable when he was flustered. Just like on the ride over here.
And why my mind was now thinking that was just plain stupid.
Brodie walked up to me and pulled me into a hug, then Faise, and Ronin.
“Are you guys okay?” Brodie asked.
He might be the snarkiest of all of us, but he also had a big heart. And we all looked out for each other.
I nodded. “I’m good.”
“Me too.” Faise smiled.
“Then let’s get the fuck out of here,” Ronin announced.
“What about Harlow?” I asked. “We still gotta talk to him about what happened. And reaffirm some guidelines.”
“Tomorrow. Give everyone a night to calm down and regroup,” Van suggested and smiled at Brodie.
Brodie stepped away from us, took his husband’s hand, and pulled it up to his mouth.
Gently kissing Van’s knuckles, Brodie never lost eye contact with his husband.
I didn’t understand the whole “crazy in love” thing myself (and monogamy even less), but even I couldn’t deny the palpable electricity between them.
Hell, if the Eiffel Tower wasn’t lit up tonight, these two could substitute.
Only Van could calm the intense hurricane that was our lead singer and my best friend. And as for Van, well, I’d never seen him laugh so much as he did these past few months. If this was love, it looked damn good on them.
“Let’s go,” Dawson announced and nodded at Lennie, who led us out of the room and over to the elevator.
Ronin gripped Faise’s neck, bringing him in close and kissing the top of his head with a loud smack.
“Ew, gross! I don’t want your fucking germs,” Faise grumbled and pushed Ronin away.
The two of them began to tussle as we waited for the elevator.
“I just want to make sure my boo is okay,” Ronin replied and puckered his lips again.
“You’re ridiculous.” Faise laughed and swatted his face.
Watching my band brothers goof around made my tension ease. I wanted to get back to normal.
“What a fucking start to our trip,” I muttered, as the doors opened and Dawson and Lennie ushered us inside.
We all managed to fit in one go.
“Wait for the headlines. Jean-Luc is probably going to sue.” Faise chuckled.
Brodie scoffed. “Fuck him.”
Dawson got in last and stood in front of me, but there were so many of us in the small space that I was nearly rubbing against his ass. Well, rubbing against all of him.
My dick liked what was happening way too much, but my brain was a firm no-go.
Why him? Why now?
“I’m all for tight spaces, but this is ridiculous,” I commented as I pushed at Dawson’s broad back.
“There’s plenty of room,” Dawson muttered, not moving an inch.
“Not with you taking up most of it. Do you have to stand so close?”
Dawson shook his head. “I’m not sure why this is suddenly an issue. It’s my job to protect you, so I’ll stand as close as I damned well need to. Stop fidgeting. Enjoy the ride.”
Dawson’s cheeky statement and bossy tone made my cock throb. Oh, this was so fucking bad.
“Enjoy the ride?” I mouthed to Brodie, standing next to me.
Brodie snorted. “Hey, Daws, I’ve wanted to ask this question for ages… are you this bossy in the bedroom?”
Dawson glanced over his shoulder, but instead of looking at Brodie, his green eyes caught mine.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Yeah.
Yeah, I think I would.