Chapter 20 #2
‘Trust me, the audacity of some of these entitled rockers is legendary, so watch yourself.’
Setting aside our napkins, with our clutches in hand, we followed the bodyguard down the carpeted aisle.
All the way to Senna’s table, feeling every pair of eyes in the venue tracking our steps.
Senna grinned as we approached.
He snapped his fingers, gesturing at two members of his entourage to vacate their seats so Sofia and I could sit next to him.
Up on stage, Angel’s throatiness hit a harsh, gravelly note as his eyes locked onto me, his jaw clenching as he played his guitar.
I gave him a small shrug as his eyes narrowed in warning.
Angel’s chest heaved as he continued singing into the microphone, but I sensed his rasp tighten into a hoarse, grittier cadence.
Senna stood up, making an obvious, grand play of pulling out a chair for me, and I sat.
Senna leaned into my space, his amber cologne washing over me as he placed a bejeweled hand over the back of my seat.
‘What’s your name, beautiful?’ Senna purred, leaning close to press his lips to my cheek.
I shifted my torso back, pressing away from him to dodge his heat-seeking mouth.
‘Roxy,’ I stated, even as Angel’s wrath radiated off the stage in waves.
‘Where’ve you been all my life?’
‘Nowhere you have.’
My blinding crush on the man he used to be was dying a fast death.
‘Most times I don’t have time for minor acts to mine, but you made this whole front row worth my time, darling,’ Senna crooned.
I prickled.
‘Minor? I don’t think so. I’ll have you know that my husband is the guy singing his heart out up there,’ I clipped.
‘Didn’t know, don’t care. All I’m interested in is you because you remind me of someone,’ Senna growled.
‘Who?’
‘My first wife, Fi, she was my truest love.’
‘Is that right?’
He whipped out his wallet and shoved it in my face.
In the clear plastic photo sleeve was a picture of him at the height of his glory days.
He appeared younger, leaner, handsome, grinning with a woman who I had to admit resembled me a little.
‘She’s beautiful.’
‘She was,’ he muttered, his face darkening. ‘She OD’d not long after we took this picture. Every time I see it, its fucking haunting.’
I sensed a well of deep sorrow in him, perhaps the source of his brokenness.
‘I’m sorry to hear.’
‘She’s the reason I wrote Fiona’s Curse,’ he went on, referencing one of his lesser-known songs. ‘Your man is lucky to have you.’
Senna glanced at Angel, and the pair locked eyes.
Seconds later, the older man scoffed and turned his attention to me.
‘A stunning girl like you shouldn’t waste her nights tucked away in the shadow of a garage band,’ he intoned, reaching out to stroke my bare arm.
I whipped my wrist back out of his reach, giving him a narrowed glare.
‘Garage band?’ I murmured. ‘They’re a number-one, Billboard-chart-winning ensemble. If you’ve never heard of them, it’s because you’re the one fading out in the nosebleeds.’
Senna’s eyes flashed, my clapback only fueling the hunger in his expression.
‘I love a woman with teeth,’ Senna chuckled, his gaze scanning my face with rising heat. ‘What do you do when you’re not playing tour manager to these lads?’
‘I’m an art gallery curator and painter,’ I said, resting my elbows on the table and keeping my distance.
‘Give me your handle, I’m following your Instagram right now.’
‘Find it yourself,’ I countered.
He laughed at my moxie and tapped his phone screen, ignoring Sofia’s glaring eyes while the final guitar chord echoed through the venue to massive applause.
‘This you?’ he demanded as he located my artist profile and turned the display toward me.
It showed my face, so I conceded with a huff, while silently cursing Di and her tagging of Angel and me in the Rosedale Group’s public posts on IG.
‘It is, but that’s a purely professional account. I don’t do personal comms on it.’
‘I don’t do personal, gorgeous; I specialize in the spiritual,’ leered Senna in a raspy whisper, most likely fine-tuned to pull women.
I ignored him, my gaze only on the sexiest man alive for me, Angel.
The final note faded, and Angel prowled off the stage as the house lights came up.
Moments later, he was striding straight for Senna’s table, his muscled frame tense.
Publicists and photographers swarmed the area, camera lights blinding us as Angel stepped to me, putting a firm hand over my waist.
‘Senna,’ Angel said, his smile tight and practiced for the flashing cameras while his eyes burned with icy rage. ‘Good to meet you. Name’s Angel, co-lead for the Six Sinners. I see you’ve met my wife.’
‘My man,’ Senna replied with a smirk, as he surged to his feet. ‘Your band puts on a decent little racket.’
‘We get the job done,’ Angel rumbled, his jaw clenching. ‘Glad my woman enjoyed the view from down here. Thank you for giving her front-row seats to see me better.’
Senna’s lips twisted, eyes flashing at Angel’s scarcely veiled caution.
A flock of paparazzi crowded in, shouting for a group photo of the famous frontman, the classic rock icon, and the unknown woman between them.
We had no choice but to line up for the lens.
Angel smiled through gritted teeth while keeping his arm encircling my waist like a steel band.
Senna came in close, washing both of us with his excessive cologne, his jewelry chains and belt clanking.
Without warning, Senna slid his hand down my back, his palm dropping past my waistline to grab my ass.
Before I could flinch, Angel’s hand shot behind my back, wrapping his fingers around Senna’s wrist and squeezing with a crushing force.
I sensed Angel’s bicep flex against my spine and caught the muffled groan of the more mature rockstar to my right.
Senna’s cocky grin fractured, his knees buckling as a gasp of pain escaped his lips.
‘Keep your hands to yourself, old man,’ Angel growled under the noise of the shutter flashes through his smiling teeth.
Senna let out a gritty yelp.
Only then did Angel release him.
Senna yanked his hand back, his face twisting into a malevolent scowl before smoothing his features into a fake, charming smile for the cameras.
Angel took off at once, guiding me away from the crowd by my elbow.
His jaw clenched as we walked toward the side exit where the rest of the band and Sofia were waiting.
‘Remember when I said these celebs are entitled creeps? He’s the King of Skunks,’ Angel growled, eyes flashing, face scary and taut.
‘I’m sorry for causing a scene,’ I offered, my voice tight with genuine guilt. ‘I thought ignoring him would make a bigger mess.’
‘It’s not your fault, Roxy; the guy is a predator,’ Angel said, pressing a fierce kiss on my forehead. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Half an hour later, the entire band, plus Mason, Bluey and Sofia, piled into our hotel suite.
They tossed off their tuxedo jackets, slid off their formal bow-ties, and kicked back on the white velvet sofas.
Sofia and I kicked off our heels as Angel handed us filled wine glasses.
Deacon poured room-service scotch into crystal tumblers, tossed two ice cubes into each glass with a loud clink, and handed them to the rest of the group.
‘From what you say, Rox, Angel was going to snap old Senna’s wrist right in front of the press,’ Reign laughed, sipping from his glass.
‘He’s lucky I resisted swinging at his jaw,’ Angel growled.
‘Damn, tonight had all the makings of a good brawl,’ Levi chimed in, dripping with sarcasm. ‘We missed a massive opportunity for free publicity, brothers.’
‘It’s tragic that Senna turned out to be such an entitled sleaze,’ Sofia added, shaking her head as she leaned back against the cushions.
‘Babe, many in the industry are just that,’ Jude countered, setting his tumbler on the table. ‘They can’t keep their paws to themselves and come to events like these just to pick up.’
Mason grimaced with pure disgust.
‘The women too, did you see how the Mademoiselle senior editor who’s sixty-five on a good day was eyeing Levi?’
The room burst into laughter, turning to tease Levi, who threw a velvet pillow across the room, aimed at his brothers.
Everyone chuckled; however, Angel remained near the floor-to-ceiling glass doors, staring out at the midnight ocean with his fists shoved into his pockets.
‘If I ever see that bastard anywhere close to Rox again, I’ll end him,’ Angel growled.
He locked eyes with me as the entire room fell into silence, the casual joking vanishing as the possessive energy in his gaze became apparent.
The intensity between us ratcheted up, as the air in the suite turned hot and charged.
Jude stood up from his armchair, slugged back his drink, and clapped his hands together twice to break the trance.
‘We’re out,’ Jude rasped, grabbing Sofia’s hand and pulling her toward the exit. ‘You two are about to tear this shit up and we’re not sticking around for it.’
The band filed out into the hallway with teasing goodbyes, winks, and faux kisses from Reign and Levi, the jokers in the band, oak doors clicking shut behind them.
Leaving Angel and me gazing at each other in the quiet hush that followed.