The Monster of Fame (The Price of Fame Series) (5 page)

“Jess, I—”

If he heard any more his resolve was sure to falter. Miles knocked on the door, interrupting her mid-sentence.

She turned to him wide-eyed and muttered, “I have to go. I’ll call you later.” She slid her phone shut without glancing at it. “What are you doing here?”

“Safri said you were ill. I came to see how you were feeling.”

She shifted on the couch. The glow from a side-lamp behind Annabelle cast shadows over her face and hid her expression. “Um, I feel better now.”

He could hear the guilt thick in her voice. Miles grinned. He knew it was just an excuse to avoid the party. What he didn’t know was
why
she’d wanted to skip it, although he had a pretty good idea now.

Miles walked further into the room and sat down on the sofa opposite. He didn’t know whether to confront her with what he’d heard or not. “I’m glad.”

He could see her better now that the light was shining on her from the side. Her hair was loose and the silky waves flowed over her shoulders. All she wore was a little white camisole and cotton tartan bottoms. He tried to keep his eyes away from the curves of her chest and failed miserably.

Annabelle cleared her throat, and he immediately lifted his gaze to hers. “Thank you for checking on me, but it’s not necessary. As you can see, I’m fine now.”

“How about some company then?” What was he doing?

Her teeth trapped her lower lip and a faint flush stained her cheekbones, making her even more beautiful. The dim light cast a romantic glow and desire settled in the air between them. Could she feel it too?

“Okay,” she said. Her voice was thick again, but it wasn’t guilt he heard, it was lust.

Arousal burned through him spearing straight to his groin.

“Would you like a drink? I think there’s some wine in the fridge.” Annabelle stood and his gaze molded the round swells of her breasts, barely covered by the tight camisole.

No bra. The arousal hit him like a punch to the groin.

He followed her to the kitchen, trying to keep his gaze from dropping to her shapely rear and only managing sporadically. In the last six years, no woman ever fired his blood quite like she did. Since the death of his wife, the guilt he felt taking another woman to bed doused the fire of his libido more effectively than jumping into a pool of ice cold water.

“We only have white. I hope that’s okay,” she said as she pulled a bottle from the Smeg fridge.

“White’s fine,” he assured her.

She reached for the top shelf of one of the cupboards, pulling out two glasses. A strip of pearly skin flashed at her waist as the top rose. His attention was drawn to the creamy concave of her stomach. His throat grew tight. Every part of him itched to be closer to her.

“Here we go.” Annabelle carried the glasses over to the work surface he was leaning on. She was so close, her floral scent engulfed him.

“Annabelle,” he whispered huskily.

She looked up at him, surprise crossing her features until she looked harder. She must have seen the feral hunger in his expression, known that when his attention dropped to her plump lips it was because he wanted to taste them. When his gaze locked hers, a flush stained her cheeks, but this time it wasn’t embarrassment.

Her cobalt gaze dropped to his lips and she moistened hers. Miles doubted anyone could resist this kind of desire. This feeling went beyond lust to an almost carnal level. It was all-consuming and he didn’t have the strength to fight it.

Worse still, he didn’t want to.

With his mind filled with nothing but her, he dipped his head down and brushed his mouth against pink lips as soft as rose petals. He intended to pull away after a second, but need sped through his veins with a force he couldn’t control. Instead of pulling back, he cupped the nape of her neck with his hand and deepened the kiss.

Annabelle’s mouth opened and he could taste her sweet breath on his tongue. She melted against him as she snaked her hands around his neck. Every part of his body that touched hers burned, and for the first time in six years, he was harder than granite.

He pulled his lips from hers and feathered her jaw with kisses. She gasped when he reached her neck, igniting his desire to an inferno. “Annabelle,” he groaned against the skin at her collarbone, and she shivered all over.

He closed his eyes and nibbled her silky skin. Just as he was about to move back to her lips, Cassie’s face—gray and lifeless—flashed to the forefront of his mind. His heated blood morphed into cold sludge in his veins and his erection dissolved as swiftly as it had come.

Miles released her, instantaneously jumping back as if her touch burned him. Annabelle’s skin flushed and her eyes were so dark they were no longer blue. Confusion colored her expression, and he couldn’t speak. Guilt lay heavy in his gut, threatening to travel up his throat and choke him.

Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Cassie’s face—cold and lifeless—was ingrained against his lids and the sick feeling came back, the same as it had when he’d found her dead in their apartment.

“Miles?”

He opened his eyes to Annabelle’s crestfallen face. His was so numb he couldn’t imagine what kind of expression he wore.

“I…can’t,” he choked out and started toward the door, pushing away her outstretched hand. Once outside he gulped in a breath of cool night air and jumped into his car. What had he been thinking? He was supposed to befriend the girl, not kiss her until he became drunk with desire.

Miles barked out a hard, humorless laugh. There really wasn’t any point in bothering to kiss anyone at all, especially since he couldn’t take things further with anyone, let alone with Annabelle. No matter how much he might want to.

Chapter 4

Shining Bright

Five minutes—or it might have been five hours—passed before the shock wore off. Anna released her death grip on the steel counter and folded trembling arms across her chest.

Moments ago, she was in his arms, being devoured like the most delicious feast, and she never wanted it to stop. Now she stood alone—her whole body vibrating with longing—in the fancy kitchen she shared with fourteen other acts who wouldn’t give her the time of day.

What bothered her most was his face before he’d left. The blood drained from it and the spark in his eyes died. Not exactly the kind of thing one hoped to see after a kiss as earth-shattering as that. Well, earth-shattering to
her
anyway.

A beep sounded on her phone and she went back to the living room. She picked up the heap of junk and read Jess’s text.

R U OK? xx

Was she okay? If he hadn’t appeared she would have spent the evening deciding on her song for next Saturday—which was stressing her to the max—but now that he had, she was confused and felt a bit like a squashed whoopee cushion.

She had a feeling Miles Oliver was going to be the bane of her life for the next few weeks, assuming she lasted that long. It was better she forget about his visits—and that kiss—and get on with what she came here to do. She really needed to keep reminding herself that falling for someone like Miles wouldn’t be wise.

She relaxed back onto the leather corner couch and texted Jess back.

I’m gr8. Heading to bed. Call U 2morro xx

Afterward, she logged onto iSongs and scrolled through the UK Chart. This was current pop week and she wanted something to blow the UK, and Miles, away.

* * * *

Just breathe, Annabelle. Deep, slow breaths. Everything will be fine.

But things weren’t fine, and the mantra wasn’t working. The show started ten minutes ago and she would be performing the finale in just over forty-five. The stress made her sweat so much that her foundation had taken on a greasy sheen.

Anna pulled out
another
sheet of blotting paper and dabbed her face. How on earth was she going to make her heart slow down? She couldn’t go on stage with her mascara running down her cheeks. The audience would think she was trying to imitate a clown!

Distraction. That’s what she needed.

She slid her phone up and logged onto the internet. The connection was slower in the studio as there wasn’t the benefit of a wireless connection. As she waited for EconEkt to load, her fingers drummed the dressing table staccato and anxious.

Luckily, her phone wasn’t too
stone age
. It kept her password and username, logging her in automatically. All week, reading the fabulously encouraging comments kept her going when she might have given up.

The song she’d picked was amazing, but extremely hard to pull off. She knew her voice wasn’t anywhere near powerful enough for it, but Safri had encouraged her. So had all her followers on EconEkt when she announced what she’d picked.

She froze as her phone completed the log in and she checked her status page.

Good Luck x

It was the last message posted by a new follower. One who went by the username
mileso
. All week she’d tried to get the man out of her head—as well as that bleedin’ kiss—so she could concentrate on the reason she was here. To win.

It had been impossible though. He not only featured in hot and heavy dreams—dreams she didn’t know her imagination was capable of—he also haunted her in the form of daydreams. Real. Life. Raunchy. Daydreams.

Some of which shocked her socks off. She hadn’t ever been with a man, her ‘waste of space’ dad never allowed her to date. But he was gone now and she supposed she was free to do as she wished.

But with Miles Oliver?

Her heart raced again with a different kind of tension. No, she couldn’t date him. Even if he gave her the chance, wouldn’t he just try to control her like her dad? Anna wasn’t so sure anymore. Silly hormones were short-circuiting her brain.

She continued to scroll through the well wishes in a vain attempt to relax her jangling nerves.

Break a leg, Anna. I mean, not literally, you know what I mean! xxx
. Trust Jess to make her laugh.

We love you, sweetie. You’re a star in our eyes, however tonight goes. Just have fun.
Her mum’s message reminded her why this was so important. As if on queue, her heart raced faster.

Go, Anna! You have my vote.
Wow! She couldn’t believe Joanne was still in touch. That meant a lot to Anna.

So much encouragement, even from people she didn’t know. Of course, the auditions and eliminations had been aired and tonight they were going live, but still…

The dressing room door opened and she saw Safri—dressed more glamorously than a supermodel—striking a professional-looking pose. It was hard to believe the woman used to be a pop singer when everything about her screamed
model
.

“Hey, lovely. How’s my little star?” Safri floated into the room.

Nerves were back with a vengeance and her tummy was doing somersaults. “I’m fine. A bit nervous.”

Safri laughed—the kind of throaty, sexy laugh all women wished they had. “Don’t worry about a thing. You’re my ticket to winning this competition. Why do you think they gave you the finale? People will hear you and fall in love. It’s why you’re here.”

Her ticket to winning this competition.

No pressure there then.

Anna wasn’t so sure about the rest of what Safri said either, but of one thing she was absolutely positive. She needed to get through to the next round. Failing was not an option.

“And remember, Annabelle, open your eyes and embrace the audience. It’s a thrilling experience.”

Anna gulped. She doubted there would be anything thrilling about it.

* * * *

The first night of live shows went better than he expected. All of Miles’s five acts performed extraordinarily well. Plus, Dave hadn’t even yelled in his ear for praising the contestants! Considering all this, he should feel happy, perhaps even a little smug.

Instead, his heart was thrumming out an uneasy rhythm in his chest. Annabelle hadn’t performed yet. He’d purposefully kept his distance from her all week, as well as avoided her at rehearsals this morning.

Staying away was the hardest thing he’d done though. Never mind the fact he was supposed to be convincing her to leave the competition, he
wanted
to see her, to speak with her, learn more about why she was here and who she was.

Dangerous. Very, very dangerous. Especially since he was on the opposing team, so to speak. The last of the groups was up, and Miles found himself unable to pay attention. They were okay he supposed. A little too boy bandish, but they could all sing and harmonize beautifully.

The main part of his attention was with Annabelle who was probably in the dressing room Studio Four had allocated her. He wondered how she was feeling. She’d probably be nervous, terrified even. Cassie always had been before she performed on stage. He hadn’t known that she’d taken drugs to get over her anxiety.

His shoulders tensed immediately and his hands fisted on the white table next to his water glass. He pulled them underneath the desk to hide them. Why the hell did he have to keep remembering? Did the oppressive guilt have to keep resurfacing? But then he supposed it was his punishment for letting Cassie kill herself in the first place. If he’d paid more attention, if he’d known what to look for in someone recreationally using drugs he could have helped her. Grief and shame tugged at the gaping hole in his chest.

“Well, judges, what do you all think of New Vibe?” Mhairi Granger, the presenter of the show, asked, and dragged him out of his guilt spiral. “Let’s start with you, Miles.” She fixed him with dark eyes, her pixie-like features pulling together with impatience.

Shit. He was hoping Mhairi would go to Sander or Safri first. He could barely remember what song they’d performed, let alone whether they were any good. An average opinion would just have to do.

“You were great, guys. Good vocals, excellent stage presence, and you all harmonized with each other well.” The chorus of boo’s from the audience seemed to contradict his words and he wondered if they’d messed it up.