Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(60)



Kellan frowned. “The label’s wishes. Not mine, then?”

Tory cracked a smile. “Nick has requested that you not talk about your personal life.” Her steely blue eyes shifted to mine, and the implication was all too clear. Do not mention that you’re married.

Kellan snapped his head to Nick. “You don’t want me to talk about my wife? So when they ask what’s going on with Sienna and me, I’m supposed to say . . . ?” He raised his hands in the air to punctuate his lingering question.

Nick gave him a calm smile. “You tell them no comment, and let them stew on that any way they want to.”

Kellan dropped his hands. “‘No comment’? I might as well tell them I’m screwing her brains out on a daily basis.”

Nick shrugged. “I’m not asking you to lie, I’m merely asking you not to respond, and not to divulge any . . . unnecessary information.” His brow arched in challenge. “Think you can handle that?”

The guys all gave Kellan cautious glances while I grabbed his hand. If Kellan didn’t deny the rumors that were already beginning to run rampant, then he would be, in essence, confirming them. He was already bothered by the risqué music video he’d agreed to shoot with Sienna. Even though abstaining from talking about his personal life was nowhere near the realm of him sticking his tongue down another woman’s throat, somehow this seemed just as intrusive. I wasn’t sure what he would say to Nick.

Nick seemed unsure as well, adding, “We’re expecting this single to reach number one. When your album releases in a few weeks, I wouldn’t be surprised if it debuts in the top twenty. All of that is due, in large part, to the fact that the public has a soft spot for you and Sienna together. You’ve become a couple in their eyes, and that sort of publicity cannot be bought. When your video hits the market, the buzz around you two will be out of this world. And if we don’t take advantage of that, ride the tidal wave while it lasts, we’ll lose the momentum and your album will sink like a rock to the low hundreds. It’s a very crowded market, jammed-pack full of talented, gorgeous individuals, such as yourself. Do you want to start your career on top of them, or on the bottom of them . . . crushed into the oblivion of obscurity?” His face smug, he raised a shoulder in a seemingly unaffected way. “The choice is yours.”

While he looked like he didn’t care, his tone of voice made it very clear that he did. It was also very clear that the choice wasn’t Kellan’s at all. The choice was Nick’s, and he’d already decided Kellan’s fate.

Jaw tight, Kellan said nothing. Not sure what Kellan should do, I gripped his hand tighter in silent support.

Belongings in tow, we headed outside to where a pair of gigantic, solid black SUVs with dark tinted windows were waiting. I thought the twin vehicles looked a little conspicuous, like we were spies or government agents . . . Men in Black. If the company was going for subtle transportation, they would have been better off hiring a stretch limo in this town. But if they wanted everyone to wonder who was inside, then I guess they made the right choice.

One of the drivers greeted us and opened the rear door of an SUV before leaning over to pick up our bags. Kellan tried to help him, but was politely shooed away. Our driver was wearing a crisp suit, and even though it was early in the day, he had on dark aviator sunglasses. He and the other driver stuffed bags and instruments into both vehicles while we climbed in. Griffin immediately grabbed the front seat while Matt and Evan took the middle row. Kellan and I climbed into the third row; it was a little cramped, but still comfortable. The inside of the vehicle was luxurious—digital controls on everything, tan leather that was soft as silk, and light and dark wood inlays along the dash, console, and door frames that created an eye-catching pattern when taken in as a whole. It had that new car smell, like it had been detailed recently. Despite its size, it was a nice ride.

Thankfully, Nick and Tory got into the matching vehicle in front of us. When all of our stuff was packed away and settled, the driver climbed into the car and we were off. The vehicle buzzed with excitement, and not just because of the upcoming radio interview—the guys were stoked about what Nick had said in the house, that the album could debut in the top twenty.

Matt and Evan twisted to face Kellan. “Do you think he’s right? Do you really think we’ll debut that high?”

Kellan shrugged, his face impassive. “I don’t know, maybe.” His voice was small as he turned his head to stare out the window; he was right beside me, but he seemed a million miles away.

From the front, Griffin shouted, “Hell, yeah, we’ll debut in the top twenty! Number one with a bullet, baby!”

Matt and Evan turned back around and leaned forward to have a conversation with their more eager band mate. Kellan sighed and laid his head against the glass. Concerned, I rested my chin on his shoulder. “Hey, you all right?”

Lifting his head, Kellan wistfully gazed at his friends. “I just . . . I wish I could be as excited about this as they are.” He looked down at me, his brow furrowed. “I feel like I’m letting them down, because I’m not enjoying this.”

I clasped his hand with both of mine, clicking my wedding ring over his. “It’s different for you than it is for them. The label is asking you to do uncomfortable things. They understand. Well, Matt and Evan understand.” I gave him a small grin, hoping to lighten his mood.

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