Page 17 of Rock Star

“Fucking wanker.” I heard the anger in my tone. “Why the hell did he do that?”

“He didn’t like me spending so much time away from him trying to make it in the industry,” she sighed.

“Music is a jealous mistress,” I quipped.

“And I was working all the hours God sent putting food on the table at home.”

“I hope everything is okay in that department now.” The guys and I had made sure Phoenix had been paid a month in advance when Jake had revealed the contents of his background check.

“Oh, yes. Thanks…”

“No need to keep thanking us, Firebird. We should try and sleep now,” I said.

“Here?” She stared down at our entwined hands but made no move to remove hers.

“Why not? If you won’t have sex, at least sleep with me,” I chuckled.

She gave me a disdainful look, then released a throaty laugh. “You are something else, Alex Wainwright…”

“The one and only,” I quirked a brow.

She closed her eyes, not letting go of my hand. “Goodnight, Axel,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Firebird, sweet dreams.”

I watched her chest rising and falling, her eyelashes fanning her cheeks. I liked her, I realized. More than any girl I’d met before. So much so I wanted to risk breaking the rules for the first time ever. Might be because I’d lost my sister, I felt an empathy with Phoenix… who could lose her mum to cancer at any time.

But it was more than that.

More than wanting to fuck her senseless, even.

Firebird’s strength intrigued me.

I leaned across and kissed her lovely soft, warm cheek.

You’re a bloody berk, Axel. You’ll risk ripping the band apart if you let your fucking cock anywhere near her.

I let go of Phoenix’s hand and sat back in my seat.8I was sitting alone having breakfast on the terrace overlooking the lake the morning after we’d arrived, waiting for everyone else to make an appearance. Italy was nine hours ahead of California and they were all sleeping in, I guessed.

The roar of a waterfall echoed nearby. Everything so far had been amazing, and I was in awe of the villa. Built on an inlet in the middle of Lake Como, surrounded by lush vegetation and nestled into the cliff-face, the fully restored mansion dated from the sixteenth century. It was completely private… many famous guests had stayed here over the centuries, including the musician Franz Liszt. He was like the rock god of his time, and it occurred to me that it was fitting for ChiMera to follow in his footsteps.

I’d woken up early in my luxurious bedroom to Skype call my parents, catching them before they went to bed due to the time difference. They’d wanted to know my first impressions, and I’d described the gorgeousness of the villa, the musicality of the Italian language I’d heard being spoken all around me, how I couldn’t wait for our helicopter ride to the stadium for a sound check and rehearsal later today. Mom was looking okay… not great—she hadn’t looked great for a long time—but certainly not any worse, which was a relief. Miracles happened, and I prayed for one where she was concerned.

With a sigh I stirred my coffee, thinking about that conversation with Axel before I’d finally fallen asleep on the plane. I squinted my eyes and gazed out across the lake… so beautiful it stole my breath. I’d never seen mountains like these before, their green woodlands sloping steeply into the deep blue water. But the beauty didn’t distract me from my concerns about Axel. He’d made it crystal-clear after I’d run out on him, a month ago when I’d thought he was fucking Camila, that he’d ruled against having sex with co-workers.

So, why didn’t he wanna call off our bet?

I pressed my lips together.

Whatever.

No way would I let him win.

Something coiled around my chest, squeezing my heart tightly. If I let down my guard, Axel would draw me into his orbit. His aura blazed brightly, and, if I got too close, he would burn me into ashes.

Footsteps sounded on the tiled floor and I glanced up as Hayley approached my table. “Isn’t this place awesome?”

“Sure is,” I smiled.

“Shame it’s so isolated.” Her brow creased. “I was kinda hoping to hit the shops in Milan. Italian designer fashion is the best.”

“You’ll get a chance for some retail therapy in one of the other cities.” I bit into a croissant, chewed and swallowed. “We’re staying closer to the town centers in Barcelona and Paris, I believe.”

“Cool,” she said before launching into a spiel about how she’d gotten herself a new credit card specifically for that purpose.

I’d never had a credit card in my life, and I’d only just opened a bank account with my first month’s paycheck from CM. That money had already been spent on rent and groceries.

We chatted about the concert tomorrow night and how we were looking forward to meeting Vanilla Sky our support act, an up-and-coming British band who would be touring with us. They didn’t merit the superstar treatment, by all accounts, and wouldn’t be staying with us in the hotels CM had booked. I thought it a little mean to make them travel in their tour bus instead, but who was I to question a management decision?

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