Viper (Fallen Angel #2)(67)

“Ready?” I said, and when she nodded, I led us into the building without stopping to speak with anyone else, and as soon as we were through those doors, I let out the breath I’d apparently held the rest of the way down the red carpet.

“Halo? You okay?”

“Yeah.” My legs no longer wanted to collapse from underneath me, which was something, but I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to be in the same room with Viper tonight and not feel like someone was stabbing me in the chest. One day it would pass and then all would be fine, surely. We’d be simply band members and nothing more, but right now? I wished I were anywhere but here.

“Maybe we should get a drink before we head up there?” Imogen suggested, and when I nodded, she steered us toward the bar and ordered a couple of vodkas on the rocks. I sat with my back to the entrance and noticed she kept looking past me, keeping a check on who entered the building.

I finished my drink off in a couple of long swallows, ready for the alcohol to numb some of my anxiety, but when I went to stand, Imogen put her hand on my arm.

“Wait,” she said, her eyes focused over my shoulder, and she didn’t have to say more for me to know Viper had made his way inside. A minute later, she dropped her hand. “Okay. You’re good.”

“Thanks, Im.”

“Of course. Need another drink?” When I shook my head, she took a sip of hers. “PS, he looks like shit.”

I snorted at her attempt to make me feel better. “He does not.” Viper never could and never would look anything less than the gorgeous bastard he always was, no matter how I felt about him.

“Eh, maybe he’s got some dark circle action goin’ on.”

“Good.” I doubted it was true, but even if it was, it would probably only add to his appeal somehow.

Imogen finished off her drink, handed me a mint from her purse, and then we made our way to the elevator. The party was taking place in a ballroom on the top floor. The alcohol had started to kick in, easing the tension in my body as the elevator reached its destination and the doors opened.

The party was in full swing, people everywhere, and “Dark Angel” blasted through the speakers. As Imogen and I stepped inside, heads turned my way, and cheers and whistles rang out. I stopped, stunned that anyone even knew who I was—I’d probably never get used to that—and Imogen elbowed my ribs to get me moving.

I smiled and waved as we walked farther into the room, the crowd parting easily for us. Several people stuck their hands out as we passed, and I shook every one of them before Brian made his way over and shooed them away.

“Halo, finally. I’ve got a who’s who of people for you to meet,” he said, but when he caught sight of Imogen, he did a double take. “And who might your lovely date be?” Brian lifted Imogen’s hand to his lips and planted what I was sure he thought was a charming kiss on the back of it.

“This is my sister, Imogen,” I said.

“Sister?” Brian looked at me and dropped her hand as he straightened. “You couldn’t find an actual date?”

As Imogen’s mouth fell open, I said, “I’d rather have Im here than someone I have to pay.”

Brian tsked and put his arm over my shoulders, leading me through the crowd, Imogen following. “You have so much to learn. You never have to pay a date. They’ll pay to be seen with you.”

The thought of someone using me to enhance their image turned my stomach, and I vowed right then that I’d never fall into that trap. “I don’t think so,” I said.

“It’s the way this business works. You’ll get used to it.” Before I could respond, Brian tapped a woman on the shoulder, and when she turned around, he introduced me, ignoring Imogen completely.

Jesus, the guys were right. This guy was a total dick.

As the woman—the head of MGA’s international department—engaged me in conversation, I reached back for Imogen and pulled her up to stand beside me, not wanting her to feel left out because our manager was a dick.

Brian stuck to my side like glue, unfortunately, taking me around for introductions with key members of MGA’s team, and I did my part, giving them the agreeable version of myself that hadn’t just gone through a shitfest of a week. I focused on the fact that the party tonight was for Fallen Angel, that we’d brought the music playing overhead into existence and everyone at the party was there to celebrate that fact.

If I hadn’t been so distracted by keeping an eye out for Viper, I might’ve even said I was having fun.

After I made the rounds of industry execs, Brian ushered me toward a group of scantily clad women, a few of whom had on dresses—if you could call them that—that barely covered their asses.

“That’s what he would’ve preferred for you?” Imogen said, the sour look on her face staying put as Brian presented me to the women and then stepped back, taking Imogen with him.

“You don’t mind if I steal your dear sister away, do you? I’ve got someone I’d like her to meet.” Brian was steering Imogen away before I had a chance to respond, and as she glanced over her shoulder at me, she shrugged as if to say, “It’s fine.”

Great. There goes my safety net, I thought, turning back to face the women who were circling me like vultures. It reminded me of the first night I’d gone out with the guys to Easy Street and had three groupies in my lap before I could blink. I wasn’t about to put myself in that situation again, so before they could move in any closer, I held my hands up and said, “Ladies, thanks for coming. Enjoy the party and the album.”