Chapter 7 #2
“I was excited to be invited to perform at the reception. I’ll need to talk to your sound manager and have a closed rehearsal in the space. It’s important I make a good impression on Riot’s family.” Sonatina’s demanding baby voice pierces my ears like nails on a chalkboard.
It must be the same for her assistant. She looks miserable.
“Riot, there you are. I tried to call to tell you I was coming, but for some reason my call wouldn’t connect this morning,” Sonatina says. “I have a complaint in to my cell service provider.”
I roll my eyes at Riot. Woman, he blocked your ass, and you know it.
Riot holds my gaze as she approaches. “Breathe, candy head.”
“I am,” I say through gritted teeth. The non-existent amount of caffeine in my system is making it hard to not turn into a savage, but I’m not going to let him down when we’ve finally come to a good place.
“Can you believe I’m already meeting your family?”
“No, not really,” he says. Anyone else would assume he’s unbothered by her arrival, but there’s an undercurrent to all that Zen. It bites into my hips where his fingertips press.
“It’s such a privilege to perform for your brother and his bride,” she carries on, ignorant to his irritation. “We’re going to have a great time. Perhaps you and I can take to the stage and perform 'Chokehold' together.”
The hell she will. I’ve always considered that my song. It was the first one I sat through countless iterations of and helped to find the perfect words for. Encouraging and supporting Riot before the band became a thing. When he was still doubting himself.
“I think we can find a better one,” he says. “More wedding and duet suited. Perhaps I could join you in one of yours.”
“But I really love 'Chokehold'," she gushes. “When you sing it, I feel like you’re singing to me.”
Good lord. He is not singing a song he wrote in high school about her. They only met two days ago. I paste a smile on my face—I will be professional with Carmine’s pain in the ass daughter—and turn around. “It’s good to see you again, Sonatina.”
Adira’s head swivels from her to me and back again. Curiosity turns to awareness.
Sonatina smiles at me with fake sweetness. “It was nice of you to bring someone from your team to the wedding of the year, Riot. You’re lucky to see this side, Katie. You must feel quite fortunate.”
“What did she just call me?” I ask him. And she inferred that I’m a hanger-on. Bitch.
“It’s Kelsey.” Riot tells her as he wraps both arms around my waist before I can punch her in the nose. “Unclench.”
“Let’s go inside and put your bags down.” Adira takes Sonatina’s elbow and drags her away.
Sonatina blows Riot a kiss. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wow. She’s interesting,” Rochelle says as Sonatina’s assistant stumbles after them under the weight of the bags. “I don’t feel so bad about last night anymore.”
“Ro, do me a favor?” Riot keeps his gaze locked on me.
“What is it?”
“Can you please bring us a proper cup of coffee?” Riot tightens his grip on my waist. “Before she kills someone.”
“I’ll get one of the catering staff to bring you one.” Rochelle lifts her hand, palm up toward the sky and pretends to look for rain. “I’m going to get out of this drama before it spills on me.”
“Good idea. Unfortunately, it looks like the drama is going to need to be told to back off.” I’d be happy to be the one to tell her, but it would be better coming from Riot.
After Ro walks away, Riot lifts my hand up and inspects the halfmoon indents left in my palms. “We can’t have you murdering Sonatina because you’re not caffeinated.”
“Don’t make this about caffeine. She insulted me on purpose.” I’m more than a little riled up, but he doesn’t deserve that. I take a breath and let it go slowly. “She’s trying to get to me. She’s dressing like me.”
Riot’s brow furrows. He lifts my palm higher and blows on it softly. “What do you mean, she’s dressing like you?”
“How can you ask that?” If we were on the bus, I could pull almost that same damn outfit out of my tiny closet. “Did you not see what she was wearing?”
“It doesn’t matter what she was wearing.” He sounds irritated, impatient. “When you’re in my view, I don’t see anyone but you. She’s not a threat to you, candy head.”
“Maybe she isn’t. But she wants to be.” She clearly wants him and doesn’t care that we announced our relationship to the whole world.
She’s here to get between us. “She probably talked Bianca into asking her to perform at the reception as a wedding gift, just to have an excuse to show up uninvited.”
“I doubt she would actually do that.” He’s getting short tempered now. “But whether she did or didn’t; it shouldn’t matter. Because you trust me. Remember? Or did our whole conversation last night mean nothing?”
I shut my mouth, though there’s part of me that wants to retort. He’s right. I do trust him. Our relationship status doesn’t change that. My anxiety over telling him that I’m about to change his entire world with a baby doesn’t change that. “She just makes me mad. I just want to—”
“Do not punch Carmine’s daughter.”
“I won’t. I said I want to. That doesn’t mean I can’t control myself.” I force myself to relax. “You have to admit her rocking up here dressed like me is some next level creeper shit. Are you sure she’s not your stalker?”
Riot shakes his head. He looks at me like I might have lost mine. “Candy head. That’s not funny. Whoever they are, they threatened her too.”
“I know.” That was a low blow. “I’m sorry.”
He clasps the back of my neck. “Do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Promise me you won’t cause friction with Carmine’s daughter. The band can’t afford that.”
I don’t want to make that promise. It goes against the hotheadedness raging through my veins. Only the sincerity and seriousness of his expression tells me he needs me to do this for him and L.A. Riot. The band means the world to me too. “I promise.”
“Thank you.” He brushes his lips over mine as a man in catering uniform arrives with my fresh coffee. “Enjoy the caffeine. Maybe meditate some of this tension out of your body. I told Rebel I would go with him and the agent to see if we could find anything left of the goat.”
“Okay.”
He rolls his lip with his teeth and says so only I hear, “If you relax, I’ll reward you with orgasms once I get back,” as he walks past me.
“That better be a promise,” I call back to him.
“It is.” With a smirk and a wink, he leaves to find Rebel.
As I watch him go, I discreetly tip three quarters of my coffee into a potted plant before taking a naughty sip from what’s left.
I understand coffee isn’t good for the baby, but I can only try to do my best. If I’m really lucky that bitch will be close enough to hear me scream his name when he rewards me later by making me come.