The Last Love Song (A BWWM BDSM Romance) (2 page)

“Natural hair is on its way back in!” my stylist nearly shrieked for what felt like the twentieth time just that week.

I’d leapt down from my seat in my dressing room in a fit of anger. I needed to hire a stylist with a gentler touch before this woman ripped my scalp out. The only reason I hadn’t done it yet was because the woman knew what she was doing and did a damn good job of it.
One screw-up is all we need. I’m just waiting for it.

“I’m not arguing with that, Nikki! I’m just telling you to calm this beast the fuck down!” I took two handfuls of my my hair and tugged at them in impotent rage. Sometimes I wished the woman would just do my hair in the complicated braided styles that she employed on her own. It was far from trendy at the time but goodness would it be nice to have it not snag in every costume or get caught in every errant tree branch I passed by.

Yes, the curly, wild madness was a signature part of my style at the moment, but shit did my hair eat up a lot of time and product. Nikki had the patience of a saint - and probably no fingerprints left. I wasn’t actually angry at her. Much as I fantasized about firing the woman, it wasn’t going to happen. No sane person on the planet would want her job.

I sat back in the tall director’s style chair and let her get back to work. The longer it took for her, the less time my makeup artist would have. She’d want to contour my already contoured face, frame my almond-shaped golden brown eyes with as many fake lashes as she could fit, and color my lips to look even plusher than they were. “Exaggerate everything!” was her her motto.

Someone knocked on the door. “I know, I know, we’re on in twelve!” I shouted. I used to get excited about doing live shows - I got to perform in front of a small, intimate audience, while meanwhile it would be broadcast to millions. It was the best of both worlds. But this whirlwind media tour had sucked the fun out of everything. It had been going on for too long and now I couldn’t wait for it to be over.

“It’s me,” Lexi announced, opening the door open a crack and peeking her head inside. “Got a new member of the security team here, are you decent?”

“Do I look decent?” I gestured at the frizzy mass atop my skull. But I was fully dressed, and that was all she cared about. She swung the door open and led the man inside.

“Why do I need another?” I asked, watching the suited man walk in. He was a big guy - I was a tall woman, but I could see right away that he would tower over me if I wasn’t wearing heels. Broad, too, and thick, but not in an overweight way. No, I’d be willing to bet there was nothing but pure, hard muscle hiding under that dark jacket.

His head was shaved completely bald, which wasn’t all that uncommon amongst the bodyguards I’d employed before. It was his piercing blue eyes that stood out. Shadowed, intense, and completely unimpressed by his surroundings.
Good.
A starstruck security guy doesn’t do anyone any good.

“You fired Tom,” Lexi reminded me.

I sighed heavily. “I don’t even remember.”

“This is Vaughn,” she said, “He started working for Vision Security pretty recently, we have him until we return to LA, and then he’s assigned to us again for that award show in a month and if it all works out he’ll be part of the staff for the tour in four months. Former military, he’s also worked as a bouncer-”

I cut her off. I wasn’t interested in his resume and was growing steadily more agitated as Nikki tugged a comb through my hair, yanking my head this way and that. We had nine minutes until air. “Nice to meet you,” I barked, sticking out my hand. His hand completely enveloped mine as he shook it.

“You, too,” he said. I didn’t like the way that he was looking at me. It wasn’t solely unimpressed. It was… almost amused. He had to be put in his place, and fast.

“Are we through?” I asked, peeling my eyes away from his and turning to Lexi. She was frowning.

“Yeah. We’re through,” she said.

I felt a momentary pang of guilt as she led the guy back out, apologizing the whole way. I’d let my frustration get away with me - he was a veteran, I could have at least had some manners.

Maybe I’d make it up to him later somehow. A welcome-to-the-team gift or something. If I remembered.

But I probably wouldn’t.

“Well that was a fucking nightmare,” I muttered to myself. The show was finally over - the last task of the day complete. My performance that afternoon for the talk show had been smooth and unremarkable. It was a low-key setup so there weren’t as many opportunities for something to go wrong as usual. Then that evening, the concert had gone just fine as well, but the audience left a lot to be desired. Some of them cheered and danced along. Most of them looked like they’d be more comfortable locked away in a conference room somewhere.

“Everybody out!” I announced when I reached my rented trailer. It was one of my stipulations for an outdoor event like this one. I needed a private area to get changed, to eat, to wind down. It wasn’t the most luxurious setup I’d seen but it would do for the time being. At least the couches were comfortable and the television worked without much trouble.

My crew scattered, off to take care of the business of breaking down the stage and arranging the travel home.

“We’re having trouble with the cars,” Gavin said as he turned to leave me. “Some of the suits got really drunk and had a fender bender near the exit, so you might need to hang tight for a little bit.”

“That’s fine, as long as I can do it alone,” I said, waving a dismissive hand. I wasn’t interested in their troubles, I knew that whatever was going on, they would be able to straighten it out. If we didn’t need to run for the airport then I would happily take a few minutes by myself. I was tired, and frustrated, and all wound up. I needed a drink and a little silence.

But when I finally took the three steps up into my trailer and the two steps into the kitchen area, I realized I wasn’t alone.

A man in a suit stood next to the couch. “If it isn’t the queen of pop!” he said, beaming. His words slurred and his face was a little too slack. “Nice to meet you, Miss Zenaida!”

Oh, God, not another one of these.
Drunk executives were the worst. They already thought the world revolved around them. Add too much alcohol and all pretense of being civilized were thrown out the window. Who’d let the asshole backstage anyway? Where were my bodyguards?

“Why don’t you go on back to the party, sir?” I asked, gesturing back towards the door.

He scowled as if confused. “We paid good money to have you here.”

“You paid for a show, sir, and the show’s over.” The door was still open, and I spotted the new bodyguard just outside. The bald one. He wasn’t looking in my direction, he was looking away from the trailer, watching for danger approaching. He didn’t realize someone had already gotten in.
Shit, what was his name?
I almost felt guilty for forgetting it. “You!” I hissed. He didn’t turn. I didn’t want to shout - I was afraid it would piss this guy off, and then who knew what would happen.

“Why don’t you sing me a private song?” the man said. He took a seat on the couch. On
my
couch, my expensive black leather couch. At least, mine for the evening.

I planted a hand on my hip. “I didn’t give you permission to sit down. Please leave.”

He ignored my words and pulled a flask from inside his suit jacket. I hissed with impatience. “You! Hey!” Still the new bodyguard ignored me. “Security!”

“What the hell are you shouting about?” the man scowled. He stood back up and took a step toward me.
Oh, hell, no.

“Security!” I shrieked, no longer worried about agitating the man any further. It was time for him to get the fuck out.

Finally the bodyguard turned around. He took in the scene for less than a breath - then he was in the trailer and on the guy in less time than it took for me to blink. “How did you get in here?” he growled, shaking him by the collar of his suit.

“Fuck you, buddy, get your hands off me!”

“You’re leaving.” He hauled the man to the front door while he spluttered and cursed.

“Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Don’t care.” He hurled him out the door. The man stumbled violently forward a few steps. For a moment it looked like he was going to faceplant, but he regained his balance and remained on his feet. I half-expected him to keep on arguing, but instead he tugged his jacket straight and kept right on walking away from the trailer as if nothing had happened at all.
Real smooth, buddy.

“Are you okay?” my bodyguard asked. He held me still by my shoulders and looked me up and down once before turning me and checking my back. When he whirled me around again, I knocked his arms away.

“Don’t you manhandle me,” I said, “I’m fine.”

He did a quick lap around the trailer, presumably checking for any more stowaways. “It was just the one guy,” I said when he peered behind the couch.

“He shouldn’t have been able to get this far.” He checked the closet and the bathroom before finally stopping. He turned his attention to me - that intense, piercing, blue-eyed attention that had made my knees tremble earlier. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “I tried.”

“You forgot my name.” His eyes flashed. With what, I wasn’t sure. Anger?
Who the hell does this guy think he is?

“Yeah,” I said, “I forgot. What of it?” I threw all of my weight behind my words. It wasn’t right to take my stress out on him, but he was the only one there and besides, as he’d said, that guy shouldn’t have been able to get into my trailer. Whose job was it to make sure that didn’t happen? Not mine. “If you were doing what you were supposed to do then I wouldn’t have needed to call you at all!”

“If you’d been paying attention to the situation, you would have known that none of us were near the door. Just because you hired help doesn’t mean you stop taking any responsibility for your own safety at all.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Who the
fuck
do you think you are?” I hissed. I trembled all over with rage. My fists clenched tight and I resisted the urge to shake one at him. “You’re fired.”

He shrugged. “You can’t.”

“
Excuse me?”

“You can’t fire me. Nobody else will work for you, not with your reputation. Not after you fired Tom. You’ll have to switch security companies entirely.” He took a step toward me, crowding me, but I didn’t back down. “You’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”

That was a step too far. It was all just way too much. I clenched my jaw and prepared to pull back my fist and take a swing - but suddenly I felt dizzy. I stumbled, just a little, and then his hands were around my middle in support. “Hey, now,” he said, “Take a deep breath.”

I placed my hands over his. Mine were so much smaller in comparison. His palms were so warm, and he could practically touch his opposite fingers encircling my waist. What was coming over me? I looked up into his eyes; they were creased with concern. “You need to take is easy,” he said, his voice low and soothing. So much different from the dangerous bark when he confronted that guy, or that infuriating arrogance when he was scolding me.

"I'm fine," I said.
Step away.
I didn't want him to see me like this. Weak. I hated it. But I couldn't seem to make myself move, couldn't take my hands from his or peel my eyes away.

His eyes flickered between my eyes and my lips, and for the briefest moment, I thought that he might be considering kissing me. Warmth blossomed through me - a feeling I hadn't had in a very long time. "Don't."

He stepped away. I immediately missed his touch and his body heat. Hugging my arms across my chest, I said, "What is your name?"