Owned (Rockstar Romance) (Lost in Oblivion Book 5) (24 page)

The twin points of emerald flame sparked as his brain shorted out and he came so hard he screamed her name and emptied inside of her.

Her legs slowly slid down to dangle from the table. “I really hope the cops aren’t coming.”

He laughed as he stepped back. The front of her dress was open and the crimson slip under the dress was pulled down. One perfect breast was still uncovered and the other was trapped in the lace. He slid the strap down to give the other its freedom. “Well, they might after all that screaming you were doing.”

“Yeah, and you were all of the quiet.”

“Manly grunts only.” He slid his arm under her knees and hoisted her up against his chest. “Now, about this present you have?”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “Maybe later. I think there should be ice cream now.”

“Ice cream?” He paused and stared at her. “I just made you come your brains out.”

“And now I need sugar for sustenance.”

He shrugged. “Okay, I can get behind that.”

And so they had ice cream with gooey butterscotch warmed up in the microwave. And he did, in fact, love her present in the little green bag.

His Margo had upgraded the remote control vibrating panties they’d bought years ago. The remote had a thousand yard signal and bonus points for the phone app that could be activated whenever her phone was near her.

Best fucking present ever.

He tortured—er…used his present all week. It had kept his mind off the fact that the days were disappearing.

She kept him busy at night, and they lost hours to a Netflix marathon of Daredevil in between food and laughter filled sex.

They’d planned on going out New Year’s Eve, but ended up FaceTiming with the band and missing their reservation. He really hadn’t wanted to dress up and schmooze with people anyway.

The studio loomed over the evening. Each minute that ticked down to the first of January sounded louder and louder in his head. He tried to keep his spirits up for Margo, but he knew she saw through him.

She also knew him better than anyone, and didn’t push. She sat in the quiet when he wanted, chatted back to him when the silence stretched too loud.

Their flight from Boston to Los Angeles required an alarm before dawn could even think about crawling over the city. They’d come together one more time before the alarm. It had been full of whispered pleas and desperate touches.

When Margo slid away to shower before their flight, he wandered to the window. This coast was so much different than home. Like New York City it had towering high rises and the twinkle of life that couldn’t quite be contained as the world hovered between sleep and wake.

“Simon?”

He turned from the large picture window in their room.

“We have to leave in twenty minutes.” He nodded and followed her into the bathroom. He shaved as she did her makeup, and then showered as she dressed.

“Thank God, I can sleep on the plane. My eyeballs have to be made of sandpaper.”

He turned the water off and stepped out. “You can sleep on any flight. It’s truly a talent.”

She smoothed a pearl gray sweater over charcoal pants. That was his Margo, always smart about layers to go from the arctic to more human temperatures.

He tugged her into him by her belt loops. “We should have gone home at a decent hour two days ago.”

She grinned up at him. “That was my plan and you vetoed it.”

“You’re supposed to talk me out of these things.”

She held her cupped hand against his chest. “Is that right?”

“It’s your job.”

“Well, how about I make up for it with this?” She turned her hand up and opened it. In the center was his silver bracelets. The ones he’d had since before the band had been officially named.

The ones that he’d put in a box more than a year ago.

He plucked out the one with the serpent eating its tail, and another one with an infinity symbol that was a little scratched, a little bent, and a lot worn. He cleared his throat. “You brought these with you?”

She shrugged. “These are charms—ones that hold good memories. The ones that belong against your skin.” She took them back from him and looped one, then the other around his wrist. Her nails tickled the veins along his inner wrist as she fastened the clasp. He shook them out until the snake fell into the groove on his wrist. The one that the old snake had made so many years ago thanks to constant wear.

Then her fingers slid around the back of his neck. “And this.”

He looked down at the tiny St. Christopher’s medal that settled on his chest. The one she’d given him while they’d been on the island. He closed her hand under his around the medal. Touched in a way he hadn’t thought possible. “You always know what I need.”

“We all need our talismans.” She traced the thin chain with her nail. “I remember when you used to get a new silver bracelet at every stop on the tour.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll have to resurrect that one on the next tour. I’ll get a new bracelet, you get a new nipple ring.”

She let out a strangled laugh that sounded suspiciously like a snort.

“Let’s go home, Violin Girl.”

Margo pressed her palm to his chest, trapping the medal like a brand against his skin before she went up on her toes and kissed him. “Let’s go home.”

“
S
top pacing
.”

“I’m not pacing.”

“Really? My floor says otherwise.” Lila set down her iPad and stared at Nick across the conference table at Ripper Records. It was hard to believe the day had finally come. They’d been building toward and planning for this moment for an entire year, and now it was upon them.

If Nick didn’t throw up on Donovan’s pristine gray carpet, it would be a miracle.

He stopped near the window and jammed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “I know I’m interrupting your pre-meeting routine. I keep expecting you to toss me out.”

“Normally, I would. But today’s not a normal day.”

“You’re telling me.” He moved to the table and gripped his notebook. “I have a million songs in here. None of them feel good enough. This should be epic.”

“The magic is what all of you bring to the table together. No one piece is bigger than the whole.”

She thought of what Margo had said about Simon in the café. There was some truth, of course. A dynamic front man made the difference between a band soaring and disappearing into obscurity. But there were so many components that made a band great. That special synergy on stage, the blend of voices and instruments, plus an incredible lead singer was an unbeatable combination.

Oblivion had had that once. Whether they still would, she just didn’t know.

“But the music is at the core. We had amazing material to start with. Not the most genius stuff out there. Not by far. But it played to our strengths.” He slapped the notebook on the table. “What are our strengths now?”

“You have to see what happens when you all come together again, in this space. If you pre-game it any more, you’re going to be done before you start.”

“I know. I know how much of this shit is mental. I never had a handle on it. That’s why I ended up in a shadowy corner before every show, trying to find some chick to make me forget I was terrified.” His head lifted, his gaze zeroing in on hers. “I never forgot. Not even for a second. My dreams were on that stage, and if I couldn’t play, couldn’t do this one thing, then I was as good as dead.”

“You could play. You
always
played. I never saw one second of that terror on stage. You might as well have had ice water in your veins from what I could tell.” The pure emotion on his face reached into her chest and tugged hard enough for her to have to reach for her mug of tea.

Herbal. No caffeine. Her nerves were already jittery enough, for so many reasons.

“Simon helped me. Jazz helped me. Those nameless girls helped me. But every time, I had to face myself and fight my way through.”

“Just like you are now.”

“No. You’re with me now.” He braced a hand on the table and slid his other to her, turning it palm up.

She laced her fingers with his and brought his hand to her mouth. This kind of intimacy before a band meeting—especially this one, the most important of all—went against every ethic she had. Her impartiality had always been something she’d maintained to Donovan would never be affected.

But he’d affected her, broken her down in so many ways. Built her up in a dozen others.

Together, they would be stronger than either had ever been apart.

Lending him her strength today of all days was more important than any imaginary lines in the sand. She’d long ago crashed through the artificial boundaries she’d set up to prove to Donovan that she didn’t care about Oblivion more than any other band she’d represented.

None of that mattered right now. The man who held her heart was looking to her to be at his side, and no job held more sway than that.

“I’m with you,” she murmured, and he nodded, squeezing once before he let go.

When the door opened a few minutes later, Nick was seated at the other end of the table, scribbling frantically. And the person who entered wasn’t a member of Oblivion.

“Hello Donovan,” Lila said coolly, well aware of how Nick’s head came up and his eyes narrowed.

Even in the midst of his own drama, he was ready to attack if need be.

She wasn’t about to let anything dilute his focus. Especially anything related to her and how she’d been so utterly incapable of following her own dictates.

“Lila.” He glanced at Nick. “Nicholas.”

“Donovan.” Nick rose to shook his hand, remaining standing when he typically would’ve slouched back into his chair.

Love changed so many things. Changed them, most of all.

“How were your holidays?”

“Good, thank you. How were yours?” Nick asked, perfectly polite.

He still hadn’t sat down.

“Lovely, thank you. You went home to see Lila’s parents. I trust the jet was to your satisfaction?”

“It was, yes. As always.” Lila smiled and lifted a brow. “I’m surprised to see you here today. It’s technically still a holiday. Isn’t New Years Day normally a day of rest?”

“More likely recovery, but probably rest for some.” Donovan came around the table and took a seat near Lila’s side. “I wanted to sit in on this first meeting and see where we’re at.”

“Of course. This meeting is informal, pending a return tomorrow to the studio.”

“Informal, perhaps, but still important. As such, I’ve invited Dex Munroe to join us too.” Donovan inclined his chin at Nick. “At ease, soldier.”

Nick’s smile was easy but still cool. “I’ll remain standing if it’s all the same to you. Why does Dex need to be here?”

To watch me
. Lila somehow managed not to say it aloud. “I told you that Donovan set up new parameters for management of the band in light of the changes in our relationship.”

“Changes that include the ring on your hand. Beautiful, by the way,” Donovan said mildly. “Though I would’ve appreciated a notification, in light of the press that has called me three times this morning already.”

“Stupid us, thinking we could have a life outside the spotlight. Thanks for your congratulations. We’ll be sure to save you a seat at the wedding.”

“Nick,” Lila said, pressing a finger to her temple. Headache kicking in, right on time. “I left you a voicemail. We missed each other quite a few times, and I didn’t feel it was news best conveyed in a message.”

“Perhaps not, but it should’ve been conveyed one way or another.” Donovan’s smile was blade thin. “I’ve found carrier pigeons always offer the personal touch.”

“You have a problem with us getting married, talk to me about it. Not her. It was my idea.”

“Nick. Enough.”

“It’s nice to see some things never change,” Donovan said, arching a brow. “You two are in about as much agreement as you ever have been.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. We’re in perfect agreement. The only difference is that I swallow my stronger sentiments, and he does not.” Lila offered Donovan her own icy smile. “I apologize I didn’t give you proper notification. I admit I’ve had a lot on my mind, more than usual. And no, not my wedding arrangements, in case that was your next question. We’re not getting married for some time.”

“Before the tour,” Nick said.

“Not for some time,” she repeated, figuring one thing at a time was more than plenty.

“Right now a tour is not happening for some time. As far as I’m concerned, Oblivion is in pieces.”

“Way to go on the motivational speech. We should have you quarterback the shit out of us on a weekly basis.”

Lila didn’t bother admonishing Nick. She agreed one hundred percent.

“I’m in the business of motivating when I see something or someone worthy of it. Right now I see six people who barely like or tolerate each other trying to pretend they’re still a band for the sake of a contract.”

“Really. Is that why we spent Christmas together? A week and a half, far away from all of this bullshit. And you know what? We were more of a fucking band than you and your stuck-up suit could ever imagine.”

Lila didn’t speak as Nick shoved the chair against the table, shaking it in spite of the bolts that held the legs to the floor.

She didn’t know Donovan’s end game, if he’d truly intended to decimate or to motivate in his own inimitable way. But the fire in Nick’s eyes was so different than the misery she’d glimpsed in unguarded moments.

Nick was a lot of things, but he wasn’t meant to be defeated.

Never broken.

“Then show me. Show me, show Lila, show Dex what you are now. Stop living on memories and make something new.”

“I’m not the only one.”

“No, you’re not. But you’re the one who has the power to bring the rest of them together. If you don’t, your band will be over.”

Nick laughed and jabbed his fingers into his eyes. “
Me
. Me, the one who they’ve all hated at one time or another. The one who didn’t even want Jazz and Gray to join, because I was living on a memory. Just like you said.”

“That band is yours. It’s theirs too. You have to remind them. The past is finished. Over and dead. Without tomorrow, you have nothing. So you start to build.”

“How? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” Nick slapped his notebook against the table. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’ve always been here. Even when they all had other things to do, other places to be, I kept the fucking light on in the window. But you’re right. If it’s just for a contract, if it’s only about the money, then we’re as good as dead. We came from shit because this was what we loved. We pinned all our dreams on this one thing.”

“Have your dreams come true, Nicholas?”

Caught up in their conversation, Lila blinked when Nick swung his gaze to her. “Some have,” he murmured.

Throat aching, she cupped her ring in the palm of her other hand.

“The rest? No. We were supposed to be a family. Unbreakable. It was supposed to be always about the music. Nothing else. Not the limos, or the press, or the glamour. It was supposed to be about five people—then six—who’d forged something that couldn’t be destroyed.” Nick shut his eyes. “The music was all that mattered.”

“So you make it about exactly that again. And don’t you stand there and tell me you don’t know what to do. You know exactly. You’re capable of bringing them together, you just don’t know if you want to take the risk.”

Nick said nothing as Donovan rose. Then he leaned forward to brace his hands on the table. “I want the studio closed. Essential band personnel only. No Donovan Lewis. And absolutely no Dex Munroe.” He said the name as if it was toxic. “Lila is all we need. She’s been there since the beginning. You want us to succeed? Give us the fucking space.”

Donovan’s hand flexed at his side. Briefly, his eyes met Lila’s. She held his gaze, held her tongue, even held her breath.

Every part of her was shaking, even her internal organs. Nick didn’t know what he’d given her by hitching the band’s fate to hers, but she did. She knew the gift she’d been given, all over again.

He’d not only said he’d would take the risk for his band, he’d said he would take the risk by betting all on her.

Donovan nodded and strode to the door. “You have what you need. Don’t let me down.” The door closed behind him.

In the silence, Lila pressed her face into her hands. And just breathed.

Nick’s hands were on her shoulders in an instant. “I’m sorry. That was your show.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was yours. All yours.” She turned in her chair to face him. Lines of strain bracketed his eyes, and he’d gone pale under his tan. But his eyes were burning like banked fire. “You’re going to do it.”

He braced his hands on the arms of her chair and bent to give her a hard kiss. “
We’re
going to do it.”

When the door opened again, they moved back.

“Kissing on the job? Tsk, tsk.” Simon stepped inside with Margo following close behind. “Where is everyone?”

Lila’s shoulders relaxed. Until Simon had appeared, she hadn’t realized exactly how much she’d been dreading what would happen if he didn’t. “You’re early.”

“Blame Margo. She was all excited to get here or some shit.” He looped his arm around Margo’s shoulders and pulled her close to kiss the top of her head. She shoved him back and made Simon laugh.

“Donovan just left?”

Lila straightened her jacket, rebuttoning the same button that kept coming undone. It had never done that before, of course. Her weight deviated three pounds in either direction, occasionally five if she’d indulged in a bit too much wine and Chinese food during a bitch session with Margo.

She’d barely eaten for the past two days out of nerves, and still, that button. It was a reminder in the center of chaos that Oblivion might be the center of her world, but it wouldn’t be that way forever.

Things were changing, no matter how she fought to cling to all that she knew.

“Yes. He came by to remind me of the new conditions of my continuing to work with Oblivion.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed and Margo stepped forward. “What new conditions? Why wouldn’t you work with Oblivion?”

Simon glanced at Nick. “Conflict of interest.”

“There is no fucking conflict of interest. And Donovan can fuck his conditions. It’s just us and Lila, the way its always been.”

Margo arched a brow. “Because you fucking say so?”

The sarcasm dripping on the curse word was apparently lost on Nick. “No, because I told him my conditions.” He gripped the back of Lila’s chair. “
Our
conditions.”

Simon pulled out a chair for Margo beside Lila’s and took one on the other side. Lila tried to stem her shock.

At the beginning, Nick and Simon had always sat side by side. As time progressed, they’d gone to opposite sides of the table for the bulk of the band meetings. Eventually, opposite ends.

“Yeah? How did that work out for you?” Simon asked, flipping a pencil out from behind his ear. Margo pulled a pad out of her bag and slid it in front of him, making Lila smile.

Sometimes the biggest signs of love were in the small, quiet things that weren’t meant for anyone else’s eyes.

“Well enough. We don’t have to deal with Donovan or that pain in the ass Munroe.” Nick squeezed Lila’s shoulder before moving over to take the chair next to Simon.

Just like everything used to be.

Margo pulled out another pad for herself. “I’m happy with our setup as is. I’m glad Donovan saw reason.”