15. Chapter Fifteen #2
“Willow Hart,” she says, kissing the air near my cheek. “You look fucking lethal.”
Champagne sits in buckets. Men lounge around, their many tattoos showing through low-buttoned shirts, all hard mouths and hungry eyes, pretending arrogance is a personality when really it’s just a cock with no loyalty, looking for the next woman dumb enough to mistake attention for interest. Music crawls over the walls. The smell of weed hangs in the air.
Everything shines. Everyone is beautiful in that fucked-up way rich people are when the drugs are good and no one questions what they are doing.
Sienna pulls me toward the bar and I go because that is what I do now. I follow the noise.
A producer with white teeth and a tiny ponytail turns toward me. “Oh shit, Willow Hart?”
“Unfortunately.”
A woman beside him leans in. “Is Phoenix Stone as filthy in real life as he is onstage?”
My smile stays on because muscle memory is a hell of a drug. “Filthier.”
They laugh. Of course they fucking laugh. To them, Phoenix is a dirty fantasy with a microphone, a mouth, a cock, a stage persona they can scream for from a safe distance.
Someone asks about the album, whether I wrote the new single and whether the breakup rumors are true.
Every question makes the room colder and I stand here with my drink in hand, smiling as they pick at the bones of a life I am still trying to crawl out of.
The attention in the room shifts when Memphis walks in. Women watch. Men pretend not to.
Memphis accepts it all with that lazy, solo-artist arrogance. The kind Phoenix would mock and then secretly understand because men like them know exactly what a room does when it wants them.
His eyes find mine and my body warms before my heart can get in the way. It remembers last night. The bathroom. His hands, mouth, and hard cock against me. The way I wanted him to fuck me until I couldn’t.
Memphis crosses the room, looking fucking hot in black. Open collar. Chain at his throat. His mouth curves in that slow, dirty way that reminds me he knows exactly how close I came to letting him have me.
“Willow,” he says.
His eyes roam over me, dragging from my mouth to my tits to the line of my dress.
He wants to fuck me. I can see it. Men don’t come to these things looking for love. They come looking for a pussy, a locked door, and a woman willing to pretend that attention is the same as being chosen.
“Memphis.”
His gaze drops to my mouth again, then lifts. Heat spreads through my body. Maybe tonight I’ll try again and let Memphis Cross fuck the Phoenix out of my skin.
Memphis steps closer. “Do you want another drink?”
“Yes.”
Memphis turns to the bar and orders me another drink. I let my eyes skim over him for a moment. Broad shoulders. Black shirt. Easy confidence.
Near the balcony, Sienna stands with a girl in a glittering skirt and matching top and a man whose face I recognize from a label awards night.
I don’t know his name but I know the type.
Important enough that people laugh too hard at his jokes and pretend his wandering eyes are charming rather than creepy.
The girl points toward me and Sienna turns around and spots me. Her smile widens.
A second later, the two of them come over, cutting through the crowd, champagne in hand.
“Willow,” Sienna says, sliding in beside me. “This is Talia Rhodes. She handles image strategy for Vex Records, which basically means she gets paid a disgusting amount of money to make famous men look more attractive.”
Talia laughs, tipping her glass toward me. “Accurate.”
Her gaze runs over me, curious and a little too hungry for gossip. “So you’re the Willow. The girl behind all those Static Hearts songs.” Her smile widens as she leans in. “I have questions. Phoenix and Jax, are either of them seeing anyone?”
My stomach tightens, but I keep my face bored. “No.”
Talia’s eyes light up. “Interesting.”
Sienna snorts. “Aren’t you with Carter?”
Talia waves a hand, as if Carter and his entire existence mean nothing to her. “Barely. And not in any way that would stop me from letting Phoenix Stone ruin my night.”
Sienna laughs. “I’m sure Phoenix would ruin more than just your night.”
“That’s the point.” Talia looks delighted by her own lack of shame. “He looks like he fucks dirty.”
“He does,” I say before I can stop myself.
They both glance in my direction.
Shit.
Talia’s smile turns sharp. “Good to know. Pretty boys who act sweet bore the hell out of me. I want the kind who leaves bruises and calls it manners.”
Their laughter spills around me as I stand here, waiting for Memphis to come back with my drink.
Sienna must see something shift on my face because she bumps her shoulder into mine.
“Here,” she says, opening her little black bag and holding it between us. “This is the party drug making the rounds. The biggest buzz. Everyone’s obsessed.”
I gaze downward. It’s small. Almost harmless-looking.
“You don’t have to,” Sienna says.
The smart thing would be to say no because of what is already in my system. But I reach down and take it before I can change my mind. I put the tiny pill on my tongue.
Memphis comes back with my drink in hand.
Talia spots him before I do.
“Well,” she says, dragging her gaze over him without even pretending to be subtle. “You must be Memphis Cross.”
His smile curves. “Depends on who’s asking.”
“A woman with excellent taste and very few moral objections.”
Sienna laughs into her glass. “Talia collects red flags.”
“I prefer to think of them as souvenirs.” Talia steps closer to Memphis. “I saw your last video. You look like you know how to use your mouth.”