Rise: A Second Chance Rockstar Romance (Rock God Book 1) Page 17

  GIA

  Past – Eighteen years old

  San Francisco, California

  I’m fucking out of breath, but my nerves feel better at least. Ace and the other two security guys are with me as I walk down the end of the hall to Rafe’s room.

  “Do you know what this is about?” I whisper to Ace, who’s a big guy, so he’s still catching his breath.

  “No clue. But the vibe is not good,” he mumbles. I stop and wait for him as I take my hair down. The low bun thing is making my head hurt. I run my hands through it and straighten my shoulders.

  “Gia, you’re not gonna wait for Granger?” Ace laughs and shakes his head like I’m either a badass, or have lost my mind.

  “I have you. Let’s get it over with.” I start to walk.

  “I’m not going into that room,” Ace responds.

  I ignore him. As my bodyguard, he has to, right? Jesus, I’m freaking out now that I’m staring at the ornate door. I should wait for Rhys.

  I turn to Ace. “Listen. You know who I am, right? Like you know about my brother?” I shake my hands because they feel numb.

  “Yeah, I know Axel, Gia.”

  I sigh in relief. “Okay, good. So, he might be in there and he doesn’t… or didn’t know about me and Rhys—”

  “I know all this. Wait for your man, Gia,” he warns as he texts.

  “My man is drinking a bottle of Jack. Look, you don’t understand. Rhys is not afraid of Axel.” I look at Ace, but he keeps texting, and the other two simply stare at me.

  “God, if Axel is in there,” I whisper, pointing at the door. “Maybe I can calm him down before… Screw it.” I pound on the door, taking a deep breath.

  “Granger is on his way.” Ace says this like I’d better be scared or something. What is wrong with them? My brother is ready to kill Rhys, and all he is saying is wait and let it happen? The door opens, and Rafe looks at me, then over my shoulder to Ace and his team. His arrogant face morphs into a frown as he pushes the sleeve of his starched, white dress shirt up.

  “Where’s Granger?”

  “He’s coming. Is…” I clear my voice and straighten my shoulders back. “Is Axel in there?”

  His eyes narrow on me as he slowly brings the crystal tumbler of brown liquid to his lips.

  “Not yet.” And I almost sag with relief as warm hands grab my hips, jerking me back to his hard chest.

  “Brat, let me take care of this,” Rhys says tightly in my ear, causing me to shiver.

  This is bad.

  Something bad is about to happen. Rafe swings the door wide open so we can enter. I dig my nails into Rhys’s arm. If it’s not Axel, then… I walk forward almost as if I’m having an out-of-body experience. One foot in front of the other I move, my fingers laced with Rhys’s as I blink at the large silver and gold room. It’s decorated like we’re back in France, and Napoleon might step out at any moment.

  A woman sits with a man in a suit. And I know this is going to hurt me. And not just a small prick. Whatever is about to happen is going to rip me open and make me bleed.

  “No,” I whisper and stop moving.

  Rhys turns and his eyes… oh my God. This is happening. It’s in his eyes—he knows.

  The man next to the woman stands and comes forward holding out his hand, which Rhys ignores, instead looking at me.

  She heaves herself up to stand also, a gloating smile on her pretty face.

  She’s tall, like six feet, in jeans and a tight pink sweater, with pale skin and pitch-black hair cut in a bob. Jesus, is she pretending she’s Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction?

  My eyes fill with tears and I look up at the ceiling to stop them from falling.

  I’m Gia Fontaine.

  My brother is Axel Fontaine. We don’t cry or show weakness. But this… this bitch is pregnant, and everything that I’ve dreamed of did not include this.

  “Baby, it’s okay.” Rhys hasn’t even looked at them. Does he not see her fucking stomach? I take a breath and blink away the tears as I look at him and smile. Turning, I shake the man’s hand. “I’m Gia, and you are?” That makes the room almost crackle with tension. The man hesitates and shakes my hand. His is cold, almost clammy.

  “Yes. I’m Mr. Daniels and this is my client, Renee Abbott.” My eyes meet hers, and she somewhat falters beneath my stare.

  “Yes. So, unfortunately, our lawyers have to be involved also, but Renee requested a friendly meet and greet,” Rafe says. “Gia, something to drink?”

  “Sure.” I reach for Rhys’s bottle of Jack as he takes over the room.

  “Look, I’m not even going to humor you two. This is not mine.” He motions with his head to her stomach. “I barely remember Renee.”

  I take a swig and swallow the burn of liquor. It slides down, then threatens to come back up.

  “Yes. Ms. Abbot thought you would think that as you always use condoms. You have a piercing on your genital?”

  I’m going to puke. I never should have taken that swig on an empty, anxiety-laced stomach. I’m starting to sweat as I hear my life being torn apart and snagged away from me. I want to scream that it can’t be.

  I’m the one.

  Me! I’m supposed to be first. I’m supposed to have his babies. Not some pale-faced, skinny model.

  Rhys takes the bottle from my hand as if he can feel and know everything I’m thinking. For one horrifying moment, I wonder if I said all that out loud.

  “It’s none of your business,” he grumbles.

  “Granger, the baby is yours. The rubber tore on the piercing.” Renee speaks for the first time, and she has an accent. It’s not French. Maybe Scandinavian? “You fuck like a beast.” She turns to me. “It happened more than once.”

  “If that had happened, I would have made sure you took Plan B,” he says.

  “You did,” she replies and sits back down. All eyes stare at her and I start to back up, because this is when I need to leave. Run, hide, curl into a ball and try to make this not be happening.

  “My lawyers will be in touch. This is not my kid.” He grabs my hand as Renee shrieks at our backs.

  “It is yours. You’ll see when you take a paternity test. I intend on my child knowing his father. I’ll use everything in my power, and that includes the press, to make sure you’re on board.”

  He swings around. “If that kid is mine, I’ll be the one making sure he understands that the mother is a gold digger who purposely got knocked up. Go to the press. I couldn’t care less.” He takes my hand and we’re out the door.

  One foot in front of the other, I chant as Rhys drags me along. My legs feel like lead. I’m sure it’s from all the steps, or else I’m in shock. He must get sick of it and sweeps me into his arms, carrying me to our door.

  “Don’t. Please don’t do this to yourself. She’s lying. That is not my kid.” His voice is soft, soothing, and I cling to him, knowing that everything from this day forward will change.

  Inhaling, I breathe in his clean scent. I’m addicted to that scent; I’m addicted to him. It’s gone beyond loving him. I need him. He’s my everything. Without Rhys, I’m not sure I know who I am.

  I had a goal. It was clear: I was going to marry Rhys Granger.

  I guess I’m weeping. I didn’t think I was crying, but he’s setting me on the couch and kneeling between my knees, and I don’t even remember getting on the elevator.

  “Gia.” His voice is demanding, but his touch is gentle as his thumbs wipe away my tears. The tears that signified what made me, me. The very tears that are forcing me to grow up. Not everybody gets what they want no matter how hard they fight, claw, and try.

  The tune “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” bursts into my head as I look at him. My hands run through his thick, wavy hair, and I let him take away all the shit his dick has gotten us into.

  His full lips kiss my eyes with soft, light kisses that make me cry harder. Is he trying to get me to forgive him? I haven’t even comprehended that this is happening.
The damage is in play, and even if she’s lying, it’ll be months before we find out.

  Months of her hanging around making us miserable.

  Fucking months.

  “It’s not mine. She’s trying to get money and fame by saying it’s mine.” He pulls back. “This is not the first time this has happened, Gia. It sucks, but we’ll get through it.”

  I nod because when he says it like that, it sounds right. “Yes. I’m sure it’s not yours.” I sigh into him as he takes my lips gentle and slow, so different from our usual kisses.

  “I need you.” His hand drifts to my neck as he holds me still, allowing his tongue to lick and suck at his leisure.

  I can’t seem to stop crying. Rhys is being gentle, loving. Like he worships me. Any other time I would love it, cherish it, but right now it makes me feel like he’s apologizing and guilty.

  “Christ, Gia.” His tone holds a warning, all the gentleness melting away. He stands, anger flashing in his eyes, and my core becomes wet. This is what I want, need. I can’t handle tender right now. I need… I don’t know what I need.

  My head is throbbing as if I’ve just been knocked awake with a brick. He may be a father. And then Rhys will be connected to that woman forever. He’ll experience one of the greatest things in life: having a child.

  And it will be with her.

  I’m devastated. God, I’m so pathetically naïve. I truly believed Rhys was everything—everything but flawed.

  “Was this what you were dealing with today?” I raise my chin.

  He ignores my question, which makes me assume it’s a silent yes. He reaches into his pocket for his cigarettes and sits down. The elegant, giant wingback chair makes him look like a king or a god. As he lights his up, he narrows his eyes on me and inhales.

  Goose bumps cover my skin. The look he gives me is almost contempt, like he’s the one who’s been burned instead of me.

  “Clothes off,” he says. His full lips latch onto the tip of the cigarette so he can unbutton his jeans.

  I lick my lips. Rhys has been demanding and domineering, but this is different.

  “Clothes off now, Gia,” he commands. His tone is so cold. Kicking off my boots, I can barely get a full breath in as I toss off my sweater and bra, then shimmy out of my jeans. I look at him and almost sink to my knees. He’s so beautiful, and for a moment, he was mine.

  “Take your panties off and crawl,” he demands. I freeze, then slowly let my G-string slide down my legs and step out of it.

  “What?” I croak, wiping away my tears.

  “Crawl. To. Me.” He leans forward, resting his hands on his knees. Slowly I lower myself to the ground.

  My nose is stuffy, and I’m sure my face looks scary with all the crying I’ve done. Yet the way his eyes change as I start to crawl on all fours, naked, makes me scared that we’re entering a dangerous game.

  A game I know nothing about. A game that might break me, but I obey and crawl to him anyway.

  “Look at me, Brat.” My eyes jerk to his and I arch my back, watching his nostrils flare as if he can smell my arousal.

  “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” he says, his voice thick.

  I move in between his legs and nod.

  “Use words, Gia. Tonight you might need them.” My heart leaps.

  “Yes,” I snap. “I want you to fuck me hard.” He grabs my chin and I almost whimper. The tears have finally stopped. Only our rage fuels the room. My hands fall forward on his thighs.

  “Get up.” He pushes my chin away, putting his cigarette out on the glass table before he jerks off his T-shirt.

  He’s intimidating in his anger, and I bite my tongue not to scream that this is his fucking fault, not mine. Lifting his hips, he kicks off his jeans.

  His cock stands hard and thick up to his belly button.

  “You want rough, I can do that.” He grabs me and spins me until I catch myself and rest my hands on the couch cushions. His hand holds the back of my neck still.

  “What are you gonna do?” A shiver of fear goes up my spine.

  “I’m gonna fuck you rough.”

  “Let go of me, Rhys.” I try to jerk away, but he’s already spreading my legs with his feet.

  “Careful, Brat. You sure you want me to stop?” He knows I don’t. I bite my lip as my nipples rub against the couch’s silk upholstery.

  “I wanted to love you, but this is what you want.” And in one fast thrust he slides deep inside me.

  “Yeah, your cunt is wet. You like it like this.” He pounds into me from behind, lifting my hips so that he’s so deep, his piercing hits my cervix.

  I moan and claw at the end of the couch.

  “This cunt is mine. You’re mine.”

  I moan as if I’m possessed.

  “You want rough?” He slaps my ass and I scream. What is happening? He spanks the other cheek and I moan with pleasure. I’m climbing, and everything but him, his cock, and my warm ass fades away.

  “I can feel you getting my balls wet. You want more,” he says as he roughly slams in and out and his thumb rubs my other hole.

  “Relax.” He swats my ass again and I start to contract. I’m going to come, fucking explode. He slows, and his thumb slowly goes into my ass.

  “Rhys…” I groan, my voice hoarse.

  “That’s it, Brat. You like my cock fucking your cunt and my thumb in your ass.” He picks up speed and I’m gone, floating in mindless bliss. My body is his, as he grunts out a “Fuck you, Gia.” Then he jerks, and I feel the warm pulse of his seed filling me up.

  And then nothing. Coldness is all that remains. I hear the rustle of him grabbing his jeans. The slam of the door makes me finally turn.

  He’s gone.

  I stare straight ahead as the tears spill down my cheeks. Why do all the girls cry around you?

  Because I’m bad.

  Bad.

  I bring my hands to my face, pull my knees up, and let go. Just scream out my grief. I get it now.

  I understand everything that Stephanie was crying about years ago.

  I get it and hate him for that. I despise that he’s human and not perfect. I hate that he’s famous and gifted, beautiful and strong… I hate.

  “I hate you,” I whisper into the silent room. He did exactly what I wanted. He fucked me and now he’s gone, barely staying with me long enough to get dressed. I glance at the coffee table where he’s left his phone, along with the cigarette he put out.

  Standing, I make my way to the bathroom. The water from earlier is still in the tub. After leaning down to let it out, I twist my hair up.

  He’s gone, just fucked me and left, kind of like Renee. He’s fucked so many women, he doesn’t even remember her.

  “God.” I look up at the ceiling, needing Advil and sleep. I was going to take a shower, maybe a bath, but I’m tired. So tired.

  I barely pull the covers up when my mind goes blank.

  RHYS

  Past – Twenty-seven years old

  San Francisco, California

  “Brother, we need to get the fuck out of here.” I stare at Ammo, and for a second I see two of him. With a grin, I bring the warm bottle of Jack to my lips.

  “What time is it?” I look around. We’re in a seedy, downtown strip club.

  “I fucked Lacey and it’s time to roll.”

  I snort. Leave it to Ammo to blow his load and hightail it out of here.

  “Come on, man, I called Ace to come get us. We need to get to the stadium.” He rolls his neck as I slowly sit up.

  “Christ.” I look around again, trying to forget the last twenty-four hours.

  “Did Gia call?”

  Ammo reaches over for the bottle, his blue eyes narrowing. “No.” He takes a swig.

  “Call Rafe and have him check on her,” I say gruffly. Ammo raises an eyebrow, then dramatically sets the bottle down so he can lean forward like he’s about to reveal the secrets of the universe or some shit.

  “I’m gonna try real hard
to put myself in your position, because I feel for you.”

  I reach for my cigarettes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you. Gia. You’re fucking obsessed with her.” He looks around, then back at me. “But the fact is, you knocked up another woman and you need to figure out how you’re gonna deal with this.”

  That sobers me up. I open my eyes wide, needing Visine. And here it comes. Like dominoes, every piece starts to topple on me. Gia, Renee, pregnancy.

  “I didn’t knock that bitch up. I don’t even remember her. Wasn’t she with Cash?”

  “You fucked her. I remember. Wait, was she with Cash? Look, it doesn’t matter. She’s saying you’re the dad, and until that kid comes out and we can get DNA, you need to figure out what you want to do.”

  I scrub my hands up and down my face. The sting of Gia last night not trusting me, believing the worst… Actually, it was more than that. I fucking needed her. We are supposed to be a team and she fell apart.

  “She’s eighteen.”

  Ammo looks at me “Are you telling me this or telling yourself? Because I love Gia, she’s got fucking balls, but this? Can she handle our kind of life?”

  “I left her. Just fucked her, picked up my clothes, and left.” I lean my head back on the leather booth.

  “You need a bump.” Ammo takes a snort, then hands me the vial. My head rolls to the side. As I take it from him, a couple of haggard-looking dayshift strippers stumble over.

  “You want to party?” They smell like stale cigarettes and knockoff perfume. Rather than smell them, I snort the coke. There we go.

  I blink as my eyes water for a second. “Fuck.” My heart pounds and I can’t see straight. All I smell is vanilla sun-kissed skin.

  Ammo smirks. “Hello, Sunshine. Ready to rock and roll?”

  “Fuck off.” I shake my head and run my hands through my hair. He laughs and turns his attention to the strippers.

  “Thanks, gorgeous, but we’ve got to go. You gonna dance for us while we wait?” Ammo slaps the heavier one’s ass as she laughs and winks.

  “I need to piss.” I stand and stretch. One of the numerous things I love about strip clubs is the anonymity. No one makes a big deal about who we are. They seat us in the corner and let us do anything.