Managed (VIP #2)(33)
Another door opens, and Brenna’s head pokes out. “What the f*ck is this? A hall convention?”
“Whip is right,” Rye says. “The dead are rising.”
Brenna hisses at him, baring her teeth like a vampire.
I take the moment to edge away from them all. My door is so close.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Whip’s cool blue eyes pin me. “You haven’t answered the question.”
“What question?” Brenna pipes up.
“What kind of fantasy Rye is having of Sophie,” Whip says with an evil smile. The f*cker. I now know who the instigator of the group is.
Rye scowls at him as Brenna’s happy face falls flat.
Rye gives Whip a not-so-gentle punch on the shoulder. “We were talking about Sophie hooking up with a girl. I doubt I’m the only one who’d find that fantasy hot.” His gaze lands on Brenna.
A flush hits her cheeks but she shrugs. “Sophie is definitely fantasy worthy.”
Well, okay then.
They all turn to me, and Brenna gives me a kind smile. “But her sex life is none of our business.”
“Like that’s going to stop us,” Whip says with a laugh. He nudges me. “I’m kidding, Soph. Run while you can.”
“No way,” Rye says. “Dish the dirt. Or we’ll make assumptions.”
Another door opens down the hall, and Jax glares at them before giving me a level look. “Sophie was out getting me a muffin. But she forgot the cash.” He holds up a wad of pounds. “Sorry about that.”
I sigh. “Oh, for crying out loud. I don’t need you to cover for me, Jax. I have insomnia, okay?” I back up to my room. “I was out walking all night.”
“In the rain?” Rye squints at me as if to better see through my lies.
“Yeah.” I finally reach my door. “In the rain. All night.”
Whip looks at Jax. “You were the last person I thought would make a move, man.”
Jax frowns. “Why? Sophie’s hot.” He smiles at me. “And I totally respect you this fine morning, Sophie. Don’t ever doubt that.” He winks.
I groan, thumping my head against my door. “I’m in a nightmare. A bad nightmare.”
“Don’t worry about it, Sophie,” Rye says. “Everyone makes regrettable sex mistakes.”
“Yeah,” Jax drawls. “Just ask Rye. He leaves tons of women lamenting theirs.”
Rye gives him the finger.
Whip grins my way. “See? No harm admitting it.”
“Fine,” I snap. “I was with Jax. And the experience was so moving, I just had to run around the block to get it all out of my system!” I let myself into my room and slam the door before they can say anything else.
Jax’s voice drifts through the wood. “Anytime you want a repeat, sweetheart, let me know. Me and my moving dick make house calls.”
Chapter Eight
Gabriel
* * *
Getting the band ready to start a tour is like herding wild cats. There is noise, there are squabbles, and no one is where they’re supposed to be. I gave up overseeing the details a long time ago. I’ve underlings to perform that thankless task now. And I pay them well. But it still falls to me to make final checks.
I watch stagehands moving to and fro, carrying crates and laughing along the way. For them, this is the experience of a lifetime—a chance to rub elbows with the band they idolize. I envy their joy. My joy ended around six this morning when I woke up and realized I was yet again, as though my life depended on it, wrapped around the woman I had intended to hate. And it had been a bloody uncomfortable realization.
It was bloody uncomfortable to ease my swollen, aching cock away from the swell of her arse and roll myself out of that warm, fragrant bed when all I really wanted to do was wallow there, ease between soft thighs and push…
“Where are we putting Sophie?” I ask Brenna, who stands next to me as the buses are loaded up.
“Why do you care?” She takes a long sip of her coffee.
I don’t know. I’ve gone over the ledge into madness. I give Brenna a look. “She’s a new employee. It shifts the balance. Accommodations will have to be rearranged.”
“We have five new employees,” Brenna retorts. “You know any of the others’ names?” One red brow lifts behind purple cat glasses. “Or job functions?”
Hell. Evasive maneuvers are needed.
“What has your knickers in a twist?” I ask. Before she can answer, Rye strides past. They ignore each other as usual, and Brenna’s pert nose rises a touch higher. I repress an eye roll. “You two really ought to f*ck and get it over with.”
I can almost hear her teeth grinding. Her voice is breezy, though, when she finally speaks. “There is entirely too much f*cking going around this nosy little bunch, thank you very much.”
“Who?” I can’t help asking.
Brenna’s gaze slides to mine. “Sophie and Jax, for one.”
It’s as if she’s kicked my legs out from under me. The sensation of falling is so strong, the sudden pain in my chest so sharp, I can clearly picture myself on the ground, two stiletto heels implanted in my chest—one of Brenna’s and one of Sophie’s.