The Rockstar I’ve Loved for So Long (6 page)

Of course she was
, he thought tiredly. She had always been obsessed with him, a condition easy for someone with his history to recognize. But he had never told her off, had in fact allowed her to become a semi-permanent part of his life. It was as if he needed constant reminders of why he could never really enjoy a normal and happy life by Bree’s side.

Telling himself he was doing the right thing, even if it felt wrong, he said in a voice that revealed nothing of his inner turmoil, “Can you throw a party in thirty?”

“Babe—”  

His jaw clenched, the word making Dylan feel contaminated. He wanted to snarl…but he didn’t.

Henrietta’s laugh was like poisoned nails raking over his skin. “I only have to say your name and everyone will come running.”

****

Bree woke up slowly, instincts, intuition – something that made her a woman told her she was alone in Dylan’s bedroom. Blinking her eyes open, she stretched with a sigh that was languorous and doleful at the same time.

She should throw a fit right now. It was the
first
morning after between them and yet he was already gone from her side. Bree had a feeling he wasn’t even anywhere in the suite. 

He had left her. She would bet her life on it, but even so she couldn’t even make herself irritated. How could she be when she had enjoyed the loveliest night in his arms?

Her mind conjured images from last night and just the memory had her sighing. The way his beautiful sculpted body moved over hers, his gorgeous face staring down at her with love and passion, the way his groan was heavy with need and desire—

Stop it,
she told herself, blushing even though she was alone in the room. 

Her smile faded at the reminder that Dylan hadn’t thought it was important to be by her side when she woke up.
He was still adjusting,
she reasoned. She had promised that she would love him as he was and she meant it. But she would also do her best to make him realize they were both better off if he changed – that he would be happy by letting himself love her completely.

But would he really change
, Bree wondered, turning to lie on her stomach and twisting her head to face the windows. The curtains were almost fully drawn, offering her a glimpse of the grand chandelier of the hotel’s lobby.

People normally paid for city or pool views, but not the lobby. So why had he chosen this, she wondered idly. The answer came to her an instant later and she closed her eyes, not knowing if she should be happy or not.

Dylan had wanted to see her with another man, had wanted to give himself a reason to stay away and think that she could move on and enjoy a life without him.

Crazy, stupid, beautiful guy,
she thought. The moment they had met, that had become impossible.

And one day…

One day, Bree would make Dylan realize that.

An hour later, Bree was showered and ready to go, having ordered a simple but elegant lavender silk jumpsuit from one of the hotel’s boutiques. On her way to the lobby, she called Andre. 

When he answered, she asked baldly, “Where is he?”

“Aaaah…”

“Andre, it’s no use lying.”

“Umm…”

“Please hand the phone to Ariadne,” Bree said with a sigh, knowing it was useless to force Andre to break the guy’s code for girlfriends keeping tabs.

Ariadne came on the line. “Hi, Bree.” The other girl did not sound happy.

“It’s okay, I’m not mad. I just want to know where he is.”

“Henrietta Vermont’s house.”

It took another hour to get to her next destination, and by then Bree was famished and freaking furious – three Fs that, when applied to her, would make anyone sorry for daring to cross her.

The property was exactly what Bree imagined the supermodel’s home would be – glamorous, with doors and windows designed to make anyone less than six feet feel like a hobbit, and totally soulless.

Henrietta had known Dylan even before Bree did, and when the two finally met, it was hate at first sight. But both of them were permanent fixtures in Dylan’s life – something that used to confuse her until last night’s revelations.

Knocking on the door, Bree waited for a few moments before trying the knob. It turned without trouble, and when she went in, the state of the living room did not surprise her at all. The sight was hatefully and hurtfully familiar, hurtling her back to the parts of the past that she did her best not to remember. 

“Dylan?” 16-year-old Bree called out as she gingerly tried the door to his spacious penthouse apartment, one of the few that had a much-coveted view of Central Park. 

The door swung open easily, surprising Bree and making her more than a little nervous as she stepped past the doorway. The living room was fully lit, which was also weird. At eleven-thirty in the morning, the sun shining outside its windows would be more than enough to flood the entire apartment with light.

There were a lot of sleeping bodies on the floor, in various states of undress, and she immediately looked away when the woman sprawled on one of the velvet couches turned towards her, revealing her naked breasts.

She had to step over several bodies to make her way to Dylan’s bedroom and found it similarly occupied but without its master in sight. Bree flinched, realizing that the threesome on the bed were still intimately joined. 

She quietly slipped out and made her way to the other part of the apartment, heading to the patio – a place so expansive that it easily accommodated the hundred or so guests that would attend the parties that Dylan liked to throw. 

The patio, spectacular with its frameless glass walls and ceilings, was also littered with unconscious guests, and they slept next to empty wine bottles, beer cans, and glasses. Bree was tempted to hold her breath as she made her way further out, the smell of puke overpowering.

She almost gave up searching for Dylan when she heard sucking sounds from behind the ten-foot-tall walls of the giant custom-made Jacuzzi.

Bree followed the sound even as she became nauseous with fear of what she would see. Please let it not be—

A blond woman was on her knees, her purple bikini top untied and hanging loosely over her breasts while her bikini bottom lay discarded on the floor.

The woman was giving Dylan a hand job. He was clearly sleeping, but his…his…was not.

When the woman looked up, Bree realized she recognized her. When their eyes met, she was again stunned to realize that the other woman recognized her, too.

“Henrietta.” Bree couldn’t keep the revulsion from her voice. This woman was only two years older than her, but it didn’t feel that way. Henrietta was a woman – she was not. Henrietta knew how to please a man – she did not. Henrietta had experienced pleasure in Dylan’s arms – Bree had not – and she feared Dylan was determined she would never do so.

“And you,” Henrietta drawled mockingly as she rose to her feet, uncaring of her semi-naked state, “are no doubt the famous Bree.”

What had Dylan told Henrietta about her? 

Henrietta’s taunting laugh drew Bree’s gaze back to her. “Are you wondering why I know about you?” 

Before Bree could lie, Henrietta was already speaking again. “Don’t bother lying. Dylan tells me everything.”

Bree sucked her breath in, the painfulness of those words surprising even her. 

“I know all about you, how you two met in a school concert, how you totally had him smitten because, you know, you’ve become his little sister – a replacement for the family he’s lost.”

Henrietta’s slim shoulders shrugged. “I don’t really give a shit if you want to be his sister.” Her eyes narrowed, her tone sharpening as she added curtly, “As long, of course, you don’t have any ideas about becoming anything more than his sister.”

Chapter Six

“Oh my God.” The shocked gasp snatched Bree out of her reverie. Bree let out a little gasp herself, not realizing the memories had become so painful it made even breathing unbearable for her.

“Are you all right?” The voice sounded closer. 

Bree turned blindly towards the voice. A second or two crawled by before she could see past the tears. A younger girl was talking to her, a petite blue-eyed blonde in a strapless dress so shiny it was like a disco ball.

Farica de Koningh. 

The girl came from one of Europe’s oldest and most illustrious families. As far as Bree knew, Farica often made headlines in Europe but was rarely seen in this part of the world.

She stiffened, struck by the realization that Farica might be here because of—

“Hey.” The girl’s voice was even gentler this time. “I’m not after your rock star if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Bree inhaled. Somehow, the fact that a stranger knew about her
and
her fixation with Dylan was almost as bad.

The girl’s groan made Bree look at her. Farica looked abashed. “I’m sorry. My cousins always tell me I have a big mouth. Please don’t take it the wrong way. I’m just always updated about…gossip.” Farica gave her a worried look. “Are you looking for Dylan Charbonneau?”

“Yes and no,” she replied honestly after a beat. “I know he’s here, but not where exactly…”

Farica’s answering wince didn’t give her any comfort.

Easily guessing why Farica appeared so uneasy, Bree said quietly, “It’s okay. You can tell me anything. I’m not the type to kill the messenger.”

“I didn’t think you were, but…”

“I’d really rather know everything.” She watched Farica chew on her lip, the other girl visibly debating what to say next.

Finally, the other girl said, “A friend of a friend got a message about Dylan being in a party. I read the news online about Dylan being in
your
prom so I thought you were an item already and this would be some sort of official celebration or whatever. When I came here, I didn’t even know this was Henrietta’s house—” 

Seeing Bree flinch, Farica said quickly, “No! It’s not what you think. They didn’t kiss, didn’t do anything, I swear. I promise. Cross my heart. It’s just that she was so clingy with him and he was so flirty with her, it didn’t seem…” Her voice trailed off uneasily once more. 

“It didn’t seem like he had a girlfriend,” Bree completed flatly.

The tiniest wince was Farica’s only answer.

“We’re still…adjusting.” It was the only way she could think to describe her relationship with Dylan…the
jerk.
The…
ass.
The…evil, hurtful, stupid man!

Farica nodded profusely. “Sure, totally understand that.”

It almost made her smile. “Thank you for being honest with me.” Bree paused, something still puzzling her. “I know you said you’re not…with Dylan…but…if you’re not, why did you—”

“Bother coming here?” Farica’s gaze became hooded. “I was hoping that because you guys would be here, someone I wanted to meet would be
here
, too.”

“Oh.” It was a guy. Bree and Farica exchanged a look of understanding. She didn’t ask anymore. It was clear Farica wasn’t comfortable revealing who she had been hoping to meet.

Farica’s directions ensured that Bree quickly found her way to where Dylan was. She released her pent up breath when she found Dylan
alone
on a loveseat in the third floor balcony, head thrown back, his eyes closed and his face drawn.

Her heart stumbled.

Gorgeous, sexy, sweet, crazy IDIOT. 

It was clear that he wasn’t happy at all about what he did. 

Bree stepped past the sliding doors, and even though she hadn’t made any sound, Dylan’s eyes immediately flew open, his head unerringly turning towards her.

****

Bree was here
. The words slashed into his mind, a terrible sense of fear and panic gripping Dylan. It was like the past all over again and although he had always tried his best not to remember the last time they had met like this, the sight of Bree’s face right now forced the memories back into the forefront of his brain.

“
Wake up, sweetie, you’ve got a visitor.” Henrietta’s purr, combined with her gentle shake of his shoulder, drew Dylan out of his troubled sleep. He opened his eyes, expecting Henrietta to be naked already with the way she was stroking his cock.

But instead he saw Bree.

“Fuck!”

Dylan was on his feet in the next second, not giving a damn about the look of hurt anger on Henrietta’s face as he pushed her hand away from his body. 

Bree still hadn’t said a word. He had seen her mad plenty of times, and boy could she scream when she was. So why wasn’t she screaming now?

Fear seized him by the throat at this unfamiliar cold and silent side of hers, and fear turned into panic when she suddenly turned away with a choking sound, as if she was no longer able to bear seeing him.

“Wait!”

But she didn’t stop to even look at him, half-running, half-stumbling out of the patio. He chased after her, but he had to stop to pull on his pants. By the time he got out of his apartment, he saw Bree already stepping into the elevator.

Dylan shouted her name. “Stop, Bree, wait!” But he was too late, the doors only a few inches away from completely closing. The last thing he saw was Bree’s tear-stained face.

It shook him: that look. He didn’t think he could ever forgive himself if he made Bree look – feel – that way again. Turning around, Dylan trespassed his way to the service elevator, saying bitingly to the stunned chambermaid, “Get me to the lobby. Now.”

Luck was finally on Dylan’s side when he came out of the elevator and spotted Bree outside the building. He ran to her, ignoring how everyone was gaping at his bare-chested and barefooted form.