Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(59)

I hesitated, not really wanting to defend Kellan’s actions. And that wasn’t really the point of my phone call anyway. “Well, the fact that he’s agreed to do it is all that’s important. But, I just wanted to know . . .” I inhaled a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “Did I make a mistake encouraging him to film an intimate scene with you? You’re used to getting what you want. Woman to woman, be honest with me . . . do you want my husband?”

There was a long pause on Sienna’s end. My stomach twisted into a knot that I was positive I would never be able to untangle as I waited for her to say yes. When she did, it came as no surprise. “Yes, I do . . . but not in the way you think.” I blinked. That did surprise me. Call me na?ve, but what other way was there?

Sienna continued before I could ask. “My career has hit a . . . stalling point. I need Kellan to refuel it. Being in the tabloids with him just this short while has done wonders for me. I’ve already received collaboration offers from other musicians, and just yesterday, I was handed a movie script.” As her words sank in, she added, “So, yes, I want him . . . desperately . . . but only for the buzz.”

“Oh,” I murmured.

“Did you need anything else from me, love?”

My mind still spinning, I told her, “No . . . that was it. Thank you for being honest.”

“Sure thing. Ta-ta!” She clicked off the line, and I stared at Kellan’s phone for long seconds. Did I believe her? Could I trust her? Only time would tell.





Chapter 11


The Madness Begins





There was an energy in the air the night before the single was to be released; it even alleviated Kellan’s qualms about his upcoming sex scene with another woman. It was a tangible feeling that invigorated the band. Like kids waiting for Christmas morning, they were all giddy, excited, restless. As usual, the guys burned off their excess energy by tormenting Griffin. While I feverishly worked on my book, the boys played one of the Halo games. Without verbalizing it, Griffin somehow became everybody’s “target.” There were a lot of swear words flying around as Griffin slowly lost his cool.

“Quit f*cking killing me, Matt!”

Eyes glued to the screen, the blond guitarist did his best to not smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to.”

“Evan, dude! You nailed me in the head!”

Evan also tried not to smile. “Oops, my bad.”

“Kellan, Jesus Christ! Learn to f*cking aim!”

Kellan wasn’t as successful at hiding his glee as his band mates started laughing. Griffin threw down his controller. “You guys suck!”

He stormed off to his room, and everybody started laughing. They stopped when Griffin reappeared a minute later with two full-sized Super Soakers. “Die, f*ckers!” he yelled before letting loose on the four of us.

I screamed and covered my laptop as best I could. The guys let out surprised exclamations and took off, each one darting toward a different point of retreat. Griffin let out a maniacal laugh, then took off after Matt, who’d dashed downstairs. Evan emerged from his room, bucket of water balloons in hand. At least, I hoped they were water balloons this time. He chased after Griffin, letting out a fierce battle cry as he went. Laughing, Kellan followed after him, eager to join the assault. I shook my head as I listened to the chaos. Men.

There was yelling, banging, cursing, and at one point, Griffin loudly exclaimed, “The hose is cheating, Kellan!”

When they finally resurfaced forty-five minutes later, each and every one of them was soaked. Setting my laptop on the table beside me, I crossed my arms and murmured, “If you think I’m cleaning up the mess you just made downstairs, you’re dead wrong.”

Smirking, Kellan shook his head. Water droplets fell from his hair, shirt, and his pants. “Don’t worry, the maid comes in the morning.”

With that, he twisted his body and revealed the bucket behind his back. I had just enough time to tell him, “Don’t you dare!” before he flung the contents at me, drenching me with ice cold water.

Screaming, I shot up off the couch. “You are so freaking dead, Kellan Kyle!”

Griffin pursed his lips as I ran past him to get to my soon-to-be-deceased husband. “Oh, she gets feisty when she’s angry. That’s hot!”

Needless to say, we all stayed up much too late, considering the boys had a radio show interview at the crack of dawn the next day. Then after the interview, we were immediately getting on a plane to start the first leg of the D-Bags’ chaotic promo tour for their album. Ready or not, let the madness begin.

When we all ambled downstairs in the morning, bags in hand, Nick was already there waiting. Lifting an eyebrow, he asked, “All ready?” Kellan nodded, yawning. His yawn contagious, I yawned too. Nick smiled at us, then indicated a woman to his right. She was a tall, leggy blonde who was dressed as posh as he was. Her face was stern, cold, impassive, not much in the way of warmth. “This is Tory. She’ll be your handler for all of the media interviews.”

Tory extended her hand to Kellan. “Nice to officially meet you. Nick has told me many nice things,” she said. While her face remained expressionless, her eyes darted down his body.

Kellan shook her hand, asking Nick, “A handler?”

Tory answered his implied question about what a handler was and why he needed one. “I’m the one that lined up all of your interviews. I’ll be checking you in for each one, and letting the interviewers know which questions you won’t be allowing. I will also end the interview if I feel they are not respecting the label’s wishes.”