Heavy Metal Heart: A Bad Boy Rock Star Romance (14 page)

The lights formed the shape of the tower in a soft, romantic glow. It looked as surreal as a constellation in the sky. Beautiful and utterly untouchable. Otherworldly, yet so familiar and comforting. The tower was clearly meant to be seen and admired at night.

Torsten's hand on the small of her back reminded her where she was. Her eyes tore from the dazzling tower to survey the room before her. 

Like the tower, it was bathed in soft, romantic light. Clearly, it was a restaurant, but there were no tables, in the traditional sense. Each table was surrounded by a booth. A canopy-like structure lined with a rich, velvety material, reinforced on the outside with a dark wood. These structures allowed for privacy for the couple cozied up within them. And indeed, all the patrons were couples. 

As they followed a tuxedoed maitre d’ through the room, Helena caught glimpses of the couples in booths. Some were older men with younger women, some were of similar age, some couples were both women, a few were both men. Out of the corner of her eye, Helena spotted what looked like three people cuddled up together.

The waiter led them to an empty booth directly in front of the window facing the Eiffel Tower. This one was much larger and more luxurious that some of the others in the restaurant. Clearly, Torsten must have paid a premium for the view and the extra space. 

"Wow. Are you inviting the whole band here?" Helena asked as she slid in the booth. 

"It's just you and me. I wanted the extra space in case we needed to lie down. You know, for a nap," he answered with his signature naughty grin. His solemn mood from the elevator seemed to have all but disappeared. 

Another sharply dressed waiter appeared before them carrying two champagne flutes filled with crisp, sparkling bubbles and placed them on the table with his white-gloved hands.

“To us,” Torsten began, raising his glass. “And to new adventures and new beginnings.”

“Skaal.”

They clinked glasses and Helena grinned before sipping her drink. It felt improper saying cheers in their native language while in a formal French restaurant, but she was getting used to being a little naughty.

“Oh my god!” She couldn’t hold back her surprise at the delightful taste in her mouth.

“Is it good?” Torsten looked amused. 

“I’ve never tasted champagne this good.” She took another sip and closed her eyes, savoring the dry yet tart bubbles dancing on her tongue, sliding down her throat like silk with just a hint of sweetness. 

Torsten chuckled at her reaction. When she opened her eyes their first course sat patiently in front of them: a small, lightly dressed green salad laid out delicately in a straight line on a frosted glass plate. 

She blushed. “Did the waiter see me doing that?”

“Yes, and it was fucking adorable. If he talks shit, I’ll have his head.” 

"Really, though, this is beautiful." Helena slid her hands around his arm and rested her head on his shoulder. The urge to always be touching him was too great. Her gaze returned to the illuminated tower, softly reflected on the Seine river below in a mirror image. "Thank you for doing this. All of this. Bringing me on tour with you, giving me the job, bringing me to this place. This has just started but I've had the adventure of a lifetime already."

"Did you already forget all the good fucking?" Torsten demanded with mock disbelief. She playfully jabbed him in the side in reply. 

"I'm trying to be sincerely grateful to you for just one moment," she laughed. 

"I know." He kissed her hands affectionately. "No need to thank me, love. It's because you don't even desire these things that you deserve them. I can afford them and I want to make you happy."

Helena felt her heart could burst from happiness in that moment. She no longer wanted to keep her walls up. If Torsten was trying to chip away at them, they might as well be made of paper now. He tore through her and touched the real her without causing an ounce of heartbreak. 

He truly is one of the good ones. He truly cares and not just about me, but normal, hardworking people too. He showed me that in the elevator. It's not that fake celebrity philanthropic bullshit.

Every moment she spent with him made her more confident in his generosity and good heart. All she ever wanted was to be treated as well as she treated her partner. Torsten already went above and beyond what she ever expected or dreamed of. She actually never fantasized about being a princess, or rich and famous in any way. She only wanted to be loved genuinely and deeply. But if she got to live like a princess as Torsten's woman, well that would just be icing on the cake. 

"Torsten... I am so, so happy. You make me so happy." 

He kept his smile in a lighthearted smirk, but she felt his heartbeat quicken and saw his eyes light up. "You make this dark, brooding metalhead the happiest man alive, Helena." 

Happiness bubbled inside her like the champagne in her glass. As more elegant courses arrived on their table, her glass never emptied and their conversations never stopped. She rode a high that felt like she would never come down. 

The only weight at the back of her mind wondered about his secretiveness of his past. How bad was it if he continuously refused to tell her? Didn’t he know she accepted him and all his flaws? He realized she wasn’t after his money or his status, right? 

But with every champagne-filled kiss and naughty whisper in her ear of all the ways he wanted to fuck her in that booth, her doubt diminished as pleasure sang throughout her body and heart. 

He’ll tell me when he’s ready. We have all this time to just have fun. Why worry about those things now?

That night in Paris was set the tone for the remainder of the tour, and for Helena's heart. 

At every stop, they stayed in luxurious but cozy private villas and cottages for just the two of them. In Ireland, lush green hills surrounded them while their master bedroom overlooked a beautiful loch. In Barcelona, their villa had its own private beach. Helena lost count of how much sex on the beach she had, both of the drink and the activity.

It felt like they weren't working at all, but merely traveling and having adventures as a couple. Their days were filled with bandmates and fans, and Helena quickly began to feel like she was making friends. At the end of the long nights, she and Torsten would always retreat to their private, romantic haven. 

Since that romantic night in the Paris restaurant, he penetrated her, literally and figuratively. She told him her deepest fears and desires, hoping to learn more about what he held back. He listened, held her and reassured her, but remained tight-lipped about his own past. Despite this, she fell deeper in love with him with each passing day. 

She never grew tired of watching him perform. He commanded the entire show like a skilled conductor. The crowd worshiped him like a king, and his bandmates followed his lead like obedient foot soldiers trained from birth. His hands wove music along the guitar neck like a sorcerer. Watching the lithe movement of his body wasn't a bad perk either. 

His handsome face was full of expression and charisma as he played. For one part of the song, he'd fully focused on the guitar; eyes downcast and mouth pressed tightly in concentration. When Stig sang the bridge, Torsten looked up to make eye contact with the audience. He nodded his head at them while smiling with a slight bite on his lower lip. That alone was enough to drive Helena and the female fans wild, but he also tapped his foot emphatically and rocked his torso back and forth. He summoned energy from the crowd for the climax of the song. 

Torsten had the entire room under his thumb and he knew it. 

After the show, they usually had a few meet-and-greets with fans. Helena shot press photos as well as few fan photos for their social media accounts. 

She at first wondered if she should worry about the squealing female fans, but Torsten made himself just polite and aloof enough. He obliged for pictures and music chat and generously gave merchandise and cigarettes. In between posing for photos and digging through the merch pile he,
almost
 stealthily, sneaked gropes and kisses on various parts of Helena as he walked past her. Some of the girls saw and glared daggers at Helena through their raccoon eyeliner. 

Darling, please. You're all young enough to be our daughters.

She felt a flush creep up her neck at the thought of having a baby with Torsten. Just as quickly as it came, she pushed the thought from her head. 

No way. Even if he and I stay together after all this, his lifestyle isn't suitable for fatherhood. He probably doesn't even want kids. 

"Sorry, ladies. I don't sign cleavage or ass cheeks. I fight off enough boyfriends in one day," Torsten declared, which the girls found uproariously funny. Helena rolled her eyes behind the camera. 

He introduced the girls to the other band members, some who tried in no uncertain terms to find out if the girls were of legal age. Though not as handsome as Torsten, the girls seemed happily distracted by their new eye candy. 

After moving on from the wannabe groupies, Torsten's whole demeanor changed when he interacted with certain fans. They expressed to him that his music helped them through dark and difficult times. No matter how cliche and sappy their speech was, Torsten sat with them individually to listen and talk through the difficulties of their life. Sometimes he gave simple, generic encouragement. Other times he gave specific, personal advice as if he had similar experiences. 

Watching him connect with his fans on a fundamental, human level moved Helena. She loved that he remained grounded and never forgot his life before being famous. He had everything in the world he could want, but he knew what truly mattered. 

Still, getting him to open up about himself was like trying to get blood from a stone. The harder she fell for him, the more desperate she became to know what he hid. 

***

About halfway through the tour, they stopped in Athens, Greece. She and Torsten ate dinner at a restaurant overlooking the ocean and ancient ruins when she came up with an idea.

"Have you ever thought about starting a charity?" she asked him. 

Torsten paused before sipping his wine. "What do you mean, love?" A warm breeze tousled his hair and fluttered his shirt which he kept unbuttoned halfway down his chest. He looked absolutely ravishing.

"I mean, some kind of organization to help your less fortunate fans. You're so passionate with them, and it sounds like your life experiences really help." She chose her words carefully, trying to segue into discussing his past without being confrontational. Every time she brought it up before, he shut it down without discussion.

Torsten stroked his beard thoughtfully as he gazed at the sun setting over the ancient pillars and crashing waves. It grew longer since the tour began and Helena found it even sexier. 

"I have thought about it a little, but I don't want it to become... bureaucratic." 

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want it to become like those so-called charities that put on huge events, inviting only the elite class, and only existing to make people think they're funding a cause, but they're only doing it to feel better about themselves." He spoke bitingly, like the very words left a bad taste in his mouth. 

"There's a lot of pressure as a public figure to look like you're helping the less fortunate, but nobody actually gives a fuck. Me, I don't want to make a big show of helping people. I want to actually do it." 

Helena smiled at him from across the table. "I expected nothing less from you."

He smiled back. "Only you really understand me, love." 

Do I really? I feel like I don’t understand you at all. You make me feel amazing but I still know so little about you.

She felt a tight tugging at her heart. She was in love and knew it. He probably knew it, too. He was proud to go out in public with her on his arm and shower her in luxury. In broad daylight, he was a perfect gentleman. At night, his filthy mouth and rough hands sent her body to heights of pleasure she never knew existed. Every day she wore a new bite mark or handprint from him and she loved it. 

In short, he was every woman's dream man. And he chose to be with her. So why did it bother her that he hadn't uttered those three words yet? They'd been on this tour together for nearly a month already. "Love" was his chosen pet name for her. And yet, he didn't say it between the words "I" and "you". Why? 

"You got quiet, love. Is everything alright?" 

Helena pulled herself out of the spinning wheels of her mind as best she could. "Of course. Just thinking about how we could swiftly end world suffering without attaching your name to any of it."

"Ha. When you find a way, let me know. I've anonymously funded several schools and shelters back home. But money doesn't seem like enough. You're right, they need to hear from someone who's been there." 

His eyes returned to the horizon as the sun dipped below the marble ruins. Helena watched his face as he sipped his wine pensively. The fading sunlight highlighted his bronzed skin. He'd gotten quite a tan while touring through Spain, Italy, and Greece. It made his icy blue eyes stand out even brighter. 

Helena wanted to scream at him.
Where is there? What happened to you? What have you been through? You’re saying all these wonderful things, but still don’t love me enough to tell me about your childhood? You're the most amazing man I've ever met. You're legitimately trying to save the world while I'm just sitting here wondering why you don’t love me.

"Maybe you can hand pick mentors and counselors. Interview people who have been there like you, and have them guide these kids out of their situations." Helena hoped she wasn't showing her inner conflict on her face. 

Now is not a good time to be selfish. Fucking hell, I’m drinking from a 500 euro bottle of wine overlooking the ocean in Greece! Why can’t I just be satisfied with that?
 

Torsten replied by pulling his chair up next to hers and encircling his arms around her waist.  Her heartbeat quickened as he pulled her closer and rested his forehead against hers.