Rise: A Second Chance Rockstar Romance (Rock God Book 1) Page 7

  “Okay. The last thing we need to deal with is a motorcycle club.” Rafe’s voice is calm—too calm. I glance over at him. Even without his suit he radiates control. There’s a reason Rafe is the best at what he does. He’s cutthroat. People don’t fuck around when dealing with him. In his mid-fifties, he gets as many women as we do. Hell, he probably gets more.

  He’s also made us rich, along with himself, and he’s the closest thing to a father I’ve had. Still, I’m not in the mood for any of his lecturing this morning.

  “Just everyone relax.” I look around at all three of them. None look happy. Even Ammo’s smart-ass smirk is gone—he sits with arms crossed.

  “Gia’s not going to call Axel, and the Disciples aren’t going to kill us. Stop acting like a pussy, Nuke.” I take a big swig and breathe out fumes, instantly feeling better.

  “Really? Well, I hope to God what I just heard is not true, because if it is, then we have a problem.” Rafe holds up his cell. “That was Deborah.” He waves his phone. “Apparently there’s a video of you and her in the elevator last night.”

  My eyes bolt up to his face.

  “I can see by your expression it’s true. Deborah saw the tape. The woman is easily identified. What do you want to do?”

  I put the bottle down and look up at the ceiling as I laugh at how in a matter of twelve hours the Brat has caused more drama than I’ve had in years.

  “Pay them off and get it shut down,” I snarl, replaying her face as she came.

  “Goddamn, Granger, what do they have?” Nuke stares at me, his hand clenched, and at this point I wouldn’t even mind if he comes at me. At least it would distract me from the repercussions of last night.

  “Apparently, they have actual footage of Granger and Gia last night.” Rafe says all this as he turns away to talk on the phone.

  “This is unbelievable.” Nuke comes at me, only for Ammo to stop him.

  “Granger, this is unlike you. You need to clean up your shit.” And that’s all he says. I almost laugh again, like they’re enlightening me on this. Of course, this is messy. Look who’s involved.

  I take a breath, blocking out Rafe screaming in the background about how much money they want, and that it doesn’t matter how much Entertainment Tonight wants to pay. Rafe is the cheapest man alive, so having to pay people off is like getting fucked in the ass for him.

  “Why is she here, Nuke? Tell me how it is that a girl I haven’t seen in years just shows up fully grown, almost naked, in a club with you. How?” I demand.

  “She’s here to get a scholarship. I thought you knew.” He sits down and looks out the window, shaking his head as he probably pieces together that he got played and outsmarted by one Gia Fontaine.

  I roll my eyes. “Of course, she is.” But before I can say more, I sense her. For some fucked-up reason, I’m connected with her. If the music that’s playing in my head is any warning, I know I shouldn’t turn around. This is what happens when I’m stressed and fed up. The music helps.

  So, I turn and stare into the greenest eyes.

  She’s forbidden.

  And devious.

  I’ve never wanted anyone more.

  GIA

  Past – Eighteen years old

  Seattle, Washington

  My heart races as I stare at the bathroom door, incredulous. I reach for the door handle but hear a loud “What in ever-loving fuck is happening?” and pull back as if I’ve been burned. Maybe I have with the amount of cursing going on out there.

  This is a disaster. How did it spiral so fast? I mean, last night was not what I envisioned but still, he was connected, if a little inebriated, but whatever. Suddenly I don’t feel well. I need to breathe, maybe take a shower. What the hell?

  A door slams, causing me to scream and gag at the same time. The bile that’s been threatening to come up is unfortunately doing its thing.

  I reach for the toilet seat, barely making it before I heave, emptying my stomach. The smell of champagne and whatever I ate yesterday stings my eyes. I’m sweating, so I know it’s not over.

  Seconds that seem like hours tick by, my body stiff and frozen, praying for this to be over. This is absolutely the last time I drink. If I can make it through this, I’ll never take a drop of—annnd here it comes again. I lean over and retch out the last of my hopes and dreams.

  “God.” I lay my head on my hand, which rests on the toilet, truly grateful that Rhys can afford five-star hotels with spotless bathrooms. At long last, the world stops spinning and I stand, feeling like I’ve just run a marathon and dehydration has set in.

  I rest my hips on the cool marble sink, and twist my disgusting, puke-scented hair off my face. I feel like shit. Why? Why did I let Nuke talk me into those shots last night?

  “Okay.” I breathe out. This is not ideal, but not a complete nightmare. Now that I’ve eliminated all the poisons, I can somewhat function. My mind instantly reviews my options. One wrong move and I’ll be kicked out of here.

  I stink of sex and throw-up. A shower is a must before I can tackle all that’s happening out there.

  Stretching my hands toward the ceiling, I take another deep breath and feel remarkably better as I admire my surroundings. The bathroom is gorgeous. It’s huge, probably the size of my dorm room. The white orchids and marble floors remind me how lavish he lives now. Rhys has come a long way from our little neighborhood.

  My fingers drift over the numerous fluffy white towels rolled and placed perfectly in a wooden cubby. Too bad this morning is crap. I’d kill to soak in that large tub, let the hot water erase the truth that my heart hurts. I push all those negative thoughts aside, open the glass shower door, and blast the hot water.

  What’s my next move?

  Lifting my face to the water, I close my eyes. It’s pretty simple—I can grab my bags and run back to California.

  Or I can stay and fight for him.

  Now that I’m somewhat sober, I need to decide if Rhys Granger is worth the fight. This morning was not good. If that’s a foreshadowing of the future, it won’t be as easy as I thought.

  Rhys is different. Maybe it’s all the fame, being constantly surrounded by yes people, I don’t know. But he’s not the same Rhys Granger who lived down the street and slept in our garage.

  It’s like he has, in fact, become the Rock God. I came here to make Rhys fall in love with me, not realizing that ten years might have changed a few things.

  Like, Rock God is fucking hot.

  And used to getting his way. Case in point, grabbing me off the dance floor, not even bothering to find out my name. Butterflies flutter in my stomach at how exciting that was. He takes what he wants.

  And he wanted me.

  I turn my back to the pelting water and sigh. In hindsight, I probably should have told him who I was. I kind of understand his anger this morning. If I were in his shoes, I’d be pissed too.

  And poor Nuke. The look of horror and guilt on his face as he stormed into the room trying to be my protector.

  “God, I’m totally screwing this up,” I groan into my hands, mortified. It’s like I’m stuck in some endless film loop in my head showing the same clip of Nuke’s face over and over as he lunges at Rhys.

  “And I jumped out of bed naked.” My words echo around the shower as I grab some shampoo. This is almost cringeworthy. I need to call Julianna and tell her everything, but she’ll be mortified for me.

  Lathering up I close my eyes as the soap drips down my sensitized body. I breathe in some of the coconut-scented shampoo and decide to go with my gut.

  And my gut says he wants me.

  I’ll let him calm down. Maybe everyone will be gone and I can distract him with my body. My nipples harden at that thought. I wish I hadn’t been so drunk last night. It would have been nice to have a less fuzzy memory of my first time.

  Yeah, I’m not leaving. I’ve come too far to give up now.

  Turning off the water I breathe out. “Bold. Be bold, Gia.” Then I almost l
augh at how ironic it is. Rhys was always the one thinking my fearless attitude was great. Guess not so much now. I reach for a fluffy towel and crack the door open.

  The room is empty, but I hear a loud voice. “Apparently, they have actual footage of Granger and Gia last night.”

  “Fuck.” I shut the door and lean against it, my hand going to my chest since my heart feels like it just skipped a beat.

  This is bad.

  Beyond bad.

  I drop the towel and spin around for something to wear. Of course, I have only the T-shirt he shoved into my hands, so I throw it on. Instantly I smell him, and for a second that calms me.

  I love the way he smells: fresh, clean, with a hint of spice. Maybe it’s smoke. I take a breath before I lose it. This is stupid. He’s a freaking rock star, for fuck’s sake. He must have people who specialize in dealing with things like this.

  Rhys isn’t stupid. He’s not gonna let this get out. Because, if my mom sees it…or worse, my brother.

  “Holy shit.” I’m starting to panic as memories of last night return… memories of Rhys’s fingers thrusting inside me, making me come over and over.

  Axel can’t see that.

  He’ll kill me. He’ll kill Rhys. I throw open the door and glance around for my pumps. Freakin’ fantastic. They’re under an ornate chair, meaning I have to lean over and pray I don’t puke again. I grab them, trying not to topple over as I slip them on, then march in only to falter at Nuke’s voice.

  “She’s here to get a scholarship. I thought you knew.”

  “Of course, she is.” Rhys snorts. Turning his head, he locks eyes with me as if he can sense me. I freeze and instantly regret not finding my dress from last night.

  Up and down, he peruses my body, stopping to stare at the bottom of his T-shirt that comes to my midthigh.

  Nuke’s eyes follow Rhys’s, then widen as if I have grown horns. “Christ, Gia.” He shakes his head.

  I toss my wet hair off my shoulder, trying to manage as much dignity as I can in heels, no panties, and an old black T-shirt.

  “Hold on, Deborah.” An older guy with piercing blue eyes, salt-and-pepper hair, and a beard to match points at me. “Gia Fontaine?”

  I blink at him. He’s a full-on silver fox. Unfortunately ,he doesn’t seem friendly, if his eyes and tone are any indication.

  “That’s me.” Puffing out some air, I try to smile, but it’s tight, making my lips twitch.

  “Okay, everyone out.” Rhys stands and takes my hand. Silver Fox’s eyes follow me.

  “You’re Axel’s sister? The one who’s in the elevator footage?” He barks out the questions but doesn’t wait for my response. Just turns his back on us, continuing to yell on his phone at someone named Deborah.

  Poor Deborah.

  I’d heard rumors about their manager being an ass, but that was mostly from my brother, so you never know.

  Rhys moves in front of me, his tall body a shield. “What the hell are you wearing?” he says, his eyes fixated on my boobs.

  “I have no clothes. This”—I pull the bottom of his T-shirt—“is what you shoved in my face, remember?” I snap right back.

  Ammo slaps his knees and stands as I peek over Rhys’ shoulder to stare at the Ace of Spades.

  That’s what the tabloids like to label him, since each member of the Stuffed Muffins has a playing card tattoo. I know this because I’ve had a giant poster since I was thirteen on my ceiling with all of them looking like gods with their shirts off.

  Ammo’s the Ace. A gorgeous bad boy rocker, with blue eyes, honey-wheat blond hair, and hot tattoos.

  “Gia.” He sounds like he’s saying it in Italian. “What a wonderful surprise and a pleasure to meet you. I know your brother.” He smirks. And just like that, I don’t think he’s hot anymore, and his tattoos are stupid.

  God, are all these guys assholes besides Nuke?

  Ammo took my brother’s place when he quit the original band, the Dicks. Needless to say, Axel has made fun of the Stuffed Muffins for years, especially Ammo. I used to think it was because of their success, but I’m starting to think it might be their personalities. My eyes widen at Rhys to see if he’s gonna say anything. He has to know Ammo’s trying to piss me off by bringing up my brother.

  “I’m in room 318 if you want to look at my guitars or something else I’m really good at using.”

  “Ammo?” Rhys’s voice is deep and kind of scary. Of course, my heart pounds and my stomach flips.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t fuck with me.” His eyes don’t leave my face, and a shiver goes up my spine. My core clenches.

  I want him.

  I don’t care if I’ve done everything wrong or if he thinks last night was a mistake. I’m caught in his sphere and don’t intend on leaving.

  “Interesting.” Ammo’s voice almost makes me jump. How could I have forgotten that he was still here?

  Rhys Granger. It’s like he dabbles in dark magic, the way his bourbon eyes with ridiculously long eyelashes make me speechless. He’s pure perfection. I grow warm again. Maybe I’m hormonally off or something.

  I have to pull myself together. I can’t be this easy, obvious, whatever. I swallow and straighten my shoulders.

  Geez, I’m breathless, slightly dizzy, and my nipples are hard and achy. I make myself break eye contact to look at Ammo’s amused face. I almost roll my eyes at him.

  But at least I can breathe again. Ammo doesn’t make me feel like I’m on fire and in need of oxygen. He just stands there with a stupid smirk that I’m sure ninety-nine percent of women find sexy.

  I don’t.

  I clear my throat and cross my arms. The cool air and Rhys’s eyes alert me the T-shirt has risen. Whatever, I need to stay focused.

  “Look—”

  He grabs my chin. His fingers, rough from years of playing the guitar, slightly scratch my skin, and I hate that I have to swallow back a moan.

  “Where are your clothes?” His voice is deep and gruff, almost like when he sings one of his ballads. My arms pebble with goose bumps.

  “My suitcase is with Nuke.” I turn my head away as I run a hand up and down my arm. I have to put some distance between us. When he’s this close, it’s impossible to think straight.

  “What the fuck, Gia?” he says.

  “I just—” I’m interrupted again by a loud knock. Clearly, I’m on edge more than I thought since I’m digging my nails into Rhys’s forearm.

  I hate him for making me feel like this—and his stupid guitarist. Also, why is Nuke sitting like a zombie drinking a bottle of Jack?

  Ammo holds up his hand. “No, please let me get it.” He opens the door to a guy in a white chef jacket who proceeds to roll in an elegant tray.

  “Just sit.” Rhys dumps me onto the couch.

  “What is wrong with you? Stop it,” I hiss, instantly pulling the shirt down and glancing at Nuke to see if he saw anything. Thankfully he’s still staring out the window as if he can’t seem to figure out the ABCs.

  “I swear to God, Gia, don’t move.” Rhys crosses his arms and frowns down at me.

  I despise him at this moment, but his commanding voice makes me squirm. Am I getting wet?

  “Oh God,” I whisper, my cheeks heating as I toss back a damp strand of hair and cross my legs, trying not to think about his giant pierced penis.

  “Anything else?” the poor guy who’s delivering the food shouts over Rafe’s angry rant to poor Deborah.

  I bite my bottom lip and try not to laugh. It’s come to this. It’s so bad that I’m going to start laughing. I do this when things are really uncomfortable.

  I’ll start laughing. I can’t help myself, although something tells me right now, laughing would not go over well. So, I take a deep breath and look out the window. The view is amazing—it’s so clear I can see snow covering the mountain peaks in the distance.

  Maybe this is what happens if you hang out with them long enough. Look at Nuke. My eyes dart around, settling
on the room service guy. He looks like he’s ready to piss himself as he shifts nervously from one leg to the other.

  Wow. We either look ridiculous or supercool.

  “You want anything else?” Ammo yells, causing Rafe to raise an eyebrow at him and the room service guy to jump.

  Jesus, this is a complete disaster.

  “Knock it off.” Rafe glares at Ammo as he walks over to the room service guy, causing him to take a step back.

  “No, thank you. Now get out.” He waits, hand on the door as the poor guy sprints out.

  “Just pay whatever you need to get the footage, Deborah. I’ll have the conversation before we can proceed past that. I’ll let you know.” He hangs up and sighs dramatically. His blue eyes narrow and find mine.

  I stare straight back. The first thing I learned growing up with nothing but boys around is never show weakness. That said, I’m glad Rhys sat me on the couch because I need to look powerful. Like I own this room, and standing up with only Rhys’s T-shirt does not scream power. At least sitting, I can use my long legs, if necessary, to distract.

  “Let’s take this from the beginning. And please, Ms. Fontaine, do not leave out any details.” He walks toward me and sits across from me next to Nuke.

  Rafe is by far the scariest out of everyone in this room. He looks like he wants to put a bullet in my head and bury me in a shallow grave. I know men like him; my brother’s club is filled with them. It’s in their eyes. They care about few things. But what few things they care about make them dangerous if you stand in their way.

  “How can I help?” Sounding like a bitch, I smile at him. Which must surprise him because he raises an eyebrow at me, then sits back to look at Rhys.

  “You can help me by explaining how and why you’re here.” He looks at his phone, which is blowing up with texts, then back at me.

  I shrug. “I’m a photographer.” Clearly that’s not the answer he wanted.

  “Bullshit, listen caref—”

  “Just relax, Rafe.” Rhys holds up a hand to keep him quiet, his eyes searching my face.

  “Does Axel know that you’re here?” He’s like a king. I stare at him, almost speechless at how dominant he’s become.