Chapter 4
Chapter Four
MERCURY
When Asher found me stranded on the side of the road, I was at my wits’ end. Realizing that my hotel reservation had disappeared was the icing on this shitty fucking cake of a day.
I’m exhausted and hungry. I really want a hot shower, and I feel like I’m the punchline of someone’s unbelievably cruel joke.
I keep telling myself that everything is okay, that sometimes things just happen. But that annoying little voice in my head keeps reminding me that none of this would have happened if I’d just had a bit more time to plan.
But as the guys so delicately reminded me that night at my parents’ house after I agreed to this crazy plan, Asher had already been gone for a month.
While that may not seem like a long time, in Hollywood, it’s an eternity. And since the band hasn’t made any official announcements, Asher’s disappearance has fans in an uproar.
The rumor mill is already circulating with theories about his whereabouts.
From my sorority sisters to overheard conversations on the plane, everyone is talking about the rogue rock star and where they think he might have run off to.
If it continues much longer, the guys will be compelled to make a statement—one they might all regret.
This is my chance to help.
All I need to do is show Asher he’s not alone and remind him that even though he’s been handed a tough blow, he still has plenty of people who love him and are ready to fight for him.
Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
We’ve been driving for barely twenty minutes, and he already seems to be warming up to me. I’ve even caught him smiling once or twice.
Maybe my mom was right. Maybe all he really needed was a—
“Since your hotel accommodations fell through, you can stay with me tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll make arrangements for you to return to the States.”
“Wait. What?” I turn to face him. His hands clutch the steering wheel tightly, and his gaze stays fixed straight ahead. “What do you mean you’ll make arrangements for me to go back to the States? I just got here.”
“I know, and I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Mercury,” he says in an overly formal tone. “But it’s not necessary. As I told my…former bandmates, I’m not coming back. They need to accept that and move on with their lives.”
“Move on with their…” I can’t even finish the sentence, it’s so ludicrous. “Asher, you’re the lead singer of the band!”
“Lead singers can be replaced.”
“Yes, but you cannot,” I nearly shout.
He flinches, seemingly taken aback by my harsh tone.
But this is where I draw the line. I’ve studied music my entire life.
I know how good he is, and that’s not a compliment.
It’s just a fact. Hearing him reduce himself to something ordinary is unacceptable.
“You aren’t just any lead singer, Ash. You’re the guy they’ll give lifetime achievement awards to and make documentaries about.
You’re a once-in-a-generation kind of talent. You are not replaceable.”
He’s quiet for a moment, but then he just shakes his head, his expression downtrodden. “No, I’m the one they ridicule online and stalk in the streets. I’m just a spectacle for people’s enjoyment. And I can’t do it anymore. I’m done.”
He sounds so defeated, and I try to come up with something hopeful to say, but before I have the chance, the car comes to a stop, and I find myself in front of a very intimidating iron gate.
“Welcome back, my lord,” a young blond man says to Asher. He eyes me but doesn’t say a thing.
Oh god, does he think…
“Hi, I’m Mercury,” I say, leaning over to give a nervous wave in his direction. “I’m just here visiting. From the US. As a friend.”
His brow rises ever so slightly as he tips his head in a slight nod. “Very good, miss.”
The gate draws open, and Asher pulls ahead. “You handled that well,” he says with an amused grin.
“I didn’t want him to assume that we…that I…” I trip over my words as my cheeks flame red.
Asher’s grin deflates instantly. “That you were another one of my meaningless conquests? Like all the girls in those photos?”
“What? No.” I try to apologize, realizing how my reaction must have come across, that my embarrassment might have seemed more shameful than bashful. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“It’s fine,” he grits out, his voice still stiff and stilted. “But you have nothing to worry about. You’re Hen’s little sister, so that basically makes us family, right?”
I suddenly feel nauseous. Family? Is he serious?
I know I’ve never looked at any of my brothers the way I look at him…
“Right.” I force a smile.
“Good.” He nods. “That’s good.”
“He called you my lord.”
“He did.”
“Do they all do that?” I ask awkwardly.
“Despite my protests, yes.”
“Aren’t you just an heir apparent?”
His brow rises. “Looking me up, Mercury Creed?”
“What? No!” He chuckles darkly, and I grumble under my breath. “Maybe a little.”
He lets out a long sigh and says, “My father has two titles. As the heir apparent, I’m given the lesser a courtesy title.
” I furrow my brows in confusion, and he must notice.
“It doesn’t really matter. But, because you’re curious, I’m known as Viscount Blackstone. That’s why they address me as such.”
My eyes widen.
I notice the way he keeps looking out the window. When I check to see why, I realize we are driving away from the lights of the grand manor and toward the shadowy darkness of the grounds.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m not staying at the main house,” he explains. “I’m staying…elsewhere.”
I start to picture a dilapidated tent in the middle of the woods. “Elsewhere?”
“A cottage.”
The scary tent instantly morphs into something cozy and quaint. There’s a trickling brook, and birds are singing. It’s basically a Disney movie. “That sounds nice.”
“It’s not.”
“Oh.”
We drive a bit longer, and finally, up ahead, I see it.
It’s…well, hm. It’s definitely historical. It’s the only favorable compliment I can think of at first glance.
It’s tough to see everything with only the headlights as my guide, but there appears to be a good amount of ivy covering the stone structure and the slate roof. Neither seems to be in great shape.
I guess he did warn me.
“There’s a garage in the back, but it’s basically a glorified tool shed and rather small. I’ll leave the car here for the night.”
“Okay.”
We both get out of the car, and Asher goes around to grab my luggage. I was so shocked to see him on the side of the road earlier that I hardly had time to really look at him.
As I walk toward the back of the SUV, I pause for a moment, and I’m struck by how much different he looks from the last time I saw him. He’s dressed the same—black jeans, boots, and a Henley—but everything seems to hang just a little looser.
Unlike Darius and my brother, Asher has the classic rock-and-roll physique. He’s tall, lean, and seriously cut. This isn’t my weird leftover crush talking. The man performs shirtless in front of thousands of people. It’s just a well-documented fact.
One that I may or may not have spent a decent amount of time studying.
Which is why I can tell he’s lost weight.
“So is it just…you here?” I ask, not really sure what answer I’m hoping to get from this awkward interrogation.
“Yes,” he responds, joining me on the gravel path, my luggage in tow. “Cormac, my private valet, stays at the main house, much to his dismay. He appears a few times a day to make sure I’m fed and watered.”
Clearly not that fed, I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut.
Also, what the fuck? Private valet? Real people actually have those? I thought that was just something they made up on Downton Abbey.
“Well, I appreciate you allowing me to stay here.”
“You may have a change of heart when you see the place,” he says gruffly.
He steps up to the plain wooden door. There are no flowerpots or adornments. No welcome mats or signs.
I’m not even sure there’s a lock.
He opens the door by roughly slamming his elbow into it while turning the handle. It takes a few tries before the old-looking door finally gives in, and he stumbles inside.
How crazy is life that I just witnessed my teenage crush nearly break down a door in the middle of Scotland? Then I glance behind Asher and take in the cottage for the first time.
Oh, holy shit.
He wasn’t kidding.
There are no separate rooms, just an open space with a large fireplace centered on the back wall. A few chairs are scattered around a table, and there is a battered loveseat in front of the hearth.
“It’s…” I gulp, my eyes flicking to the bucket in the middle of the floor, catching water droplets from the roof. There’s a chill in the air that feels downright arctic, and don’t even get me started on the smell. “Nice.”
Asher snorts and sets my luggage down by the door. “No need to be polite, Merc. I know it’s shite. But it’s private.”
Or at least it was before I showed up.
He doesn’t say it, but I can tell that’s probably what he’s thinking. No wonder he wants to get rid of me so quickly. To him, I’m just his bandmate’s little sister.
We’re practically family…
God.
I’m so unbelievably stupid. Did I really think I could just show up here and somehow change his mind?
I’m a twenty-three-year-old sound engineer who works too much and has no life. He’s a rock legend who has traveled the world and is adored by millions. We’ve only had two conversations. What exactly did I expect we would have in common?
“Are you hungry?” Asher’s voice cuts through my self-loathing. “There isn’t much here, but I can call up to the main house and have something brought over.”
I shake my head. The truth is, I’m famished, but I already feel like a burden, and having someone hand-deliver food seems like a giant inconvenience. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“About that,” he says, tipping his head toward the far corner of the dimly lit space. I’ve been so preoccupied with the water bucket and the lack of bathroom facilities—like, seriously, where are they?—that I didn’t even notice the bed in the far corner.