Sweet Temptation (The Sweet Trilogy #4)(58)

“Tell him not to get his knickers in a bunch,” Ginger pipes up in the background. “They’re both too proper to be anything more than friends.” She says the word with disdain.

“They’re traveling together for business purposes.”

What the hell is going on? Why has Belial sent Anna and Kopano traveling together?

I let out a low growl and Ginger mutters to her sister, “Told you not to call him.”

“I’m sorry,” Marna whispers. “Don’t be upset, Kai. It’s not bad.”

Not bad. “I’ve got to go.”

I hang up and pace the floor, growing more and more unsettled. I switch the music back on, letting it rattle my eardrums. For whatever reasons, good or bad, Belial has Kopano and Anna working together.

I can scarcely breathe. I bend into a crouch, grabbing my hair in my fists.

I can tell myself over and over that I want her to stop loving me, but it’s a damn lie. The only thing that’s gotten me through the past ten months has been my hope that she’s thinking of me at night, as I’m thinking of her.

My phone rings again and I snatch it up, hoping it’s Marna. But it’s Blake. I hesitate, then switch off the music again and answer.

“Yeah.”

“You okay, man?”

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. Marna obviously called him to check on me.

“Don’t go jumpin’ to conclusions, brah. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

I can’t help it—it’s my nature to go straight to the worst-case scenario. “Do you know anything?” I ask.

“Nope. Same as you. Freakin’ weird, though, right? They’ve got me curious as hell.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Swear you’ll tell me if you hear anything. No matter what.”

“I swear, Kai. No worries, though. I’m sure it’s fine.”

I’m not sure at all. And I know it’s going to kill me, waiting to find out.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Partying with Pharzuph

“Now the son’s disgraced, he who knew his father when he cursed his name . . .

But it broke his heart, so he stuck his middle finger to the world.”

—“Let It Rock” by Kevin Rudolf

It’s never good to see your demon father’s name on the mobile ID. I haven’t spoken to him in ages.

“Is your band available in two weekends?” Father asks.

“I believe so, sir,” I say, wondering what this is about.

“Pristine is having an Oktoberfest party to celebrate our new fall and winter models. Someone mentioned hiring a band, and I thought of Lascivious.” He says this as if it’s a brilliant idea, and he’s doing me a great favor. My chest constricts.

Pristine—the world’s leading pornographic magazine. Father. Models . . .

I know what happens at these parties—I’ve been to plenty.

I rub a hand down my face, thinking of my ten-month streak coming to an end. I force a response.

“Thank you, Father. Sounds excellent. I’ll speak with the band, to be certain.”

“I’m sure you can work it out—shuffle your schedule if needed. I’ll send the jet.”

We hang up and I launch my phone across the room. It smashes against the wall and falls in several pieces. Damn it. I don’t feel like visiting the wireless shop.

I collapse back onto the couch, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. The pain of not working has finally simmered into a dull daily thrum that’s bearable. I don’t want to ruin my progress. I don’t want to work and start all over. I don’t want to be with anyone but Anna.

I dig my hands in harder.

Under Father’s eye, I know I will work, because I don’t want to die. Not on his terms. Not for this. Dying at Anna’s side is different.

A voice in my head whispers . . . Kope would refuse . . . and that thought infuriates me.

How the f*ck is he so perfect? Why am I so weak? The absolute worst part of this—the bit I don’t care to admit—is that a small part of me is rejoicing at what awaits.

The scents. The softness. The sounds . . .

My heart races and the beast raises its lazy head after a long hibernation.

It’s not in my power to end this curse. I hate myself.

Michael, Bennett, and Raj are so loud on the jet, so hyper, the pilot has to ask them to keep it down. We’ve killed the chilled bottle of champagne and moved on to beer Father supplied us. I keep a steady buzz and laugh at their antics, but I don’t say much. I’m resigned to my fate. That momentary guilty excitement I felt after Father called has long since diminished, replaced by a sense of numbness. I know what awaits.

Once the party gets rolling, there will be no boundaries. No modesties. No privacy. No saying no. By tomorrow morning my bandmates will have seen things they can’t unsee. They’ll have done things they can’t undo. This will not be like the parties they are used to.

When we arrive in New York City, a limo is there to meet us. Full rock-star treatment.

Acid is churning through me by the time we arrive at the building of Pristine’s penthouse suite. The guys completely geek out the entire way up.

“Are the models going to be walking around naked and shit?” Raj asks.

“Possibly. Or nearly.”