Page 75 of Kiss & Collide
“What? When what happened?” He was more confused than ever.
“You moving over to Allegri next season.”
“What? He didn’t say anything about that.”
Rob slung his arm across his shoulders and leaned in. “That, my friend, was a corporate opening salvo. He’s poaching you.”
Chase looked from Rob to Tom and Other Guy. They nodded in agreement.
“Shit. Seriously?”
The drunk trio seemed to find that hilarious and all three of them cracked up laughing.
He paused to absorb that. Allegri wanted him? Holy shit. He had to tell someone. Violet. He needed to relate this entire conversation to Violet so she could dissect every word and intonation. He pulled out his phone to text her, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to see her. Alone.
31
Violet’s heels rapped on the marble lobby floor of the boutique hotel Reece was staying in as she strode toward the elevators in a fury. Tonight was big for Chase. She should be at the Arrow Beverages party with him, helping him navigate his new reality. TheGQprofile had just dropped to huge buzz. Crowds of fans now materialized at the track entrance every day of the race weekend, and they’d needed security guards to get him inside unscathed.
But no. Instead, she was here to babysit someasshole.
His own private party. Motherfucker. The fact that the guys in the garage were talking about it meant it was as private as the queen’s bloody jubilee.
Beside the elevator, a sign on a silver stand indicated that the party was at the rooftop bar. Renting that place out had to be costing a fortune. She rode the elevator up to the roof, fuming. Carter Hammond could more effectively rein in his Fail Son if he cut off his allowance now and then. As soon as the elevator door slid open into the small lobby upstairs, Violet’s stomach contracted with panic.
That song …
She knew it. She had been there when it was written. Fucking Ian had even told her it was about her, which was probably just another lie.
But this wasn’t Spotify piped through the bar’s sound system. This waslive. Which meant …
She rounded the corner and the room opened up in front of her. Dark, half full of people, lots of purple neon light, and on the far side of the room, up on a stage, Revenant Saints was grinding out “Love Like a Drug.”
Ian looked good. He always did when he was in his element, up onstage with every eye fixed on him. He gripped the mic with one hand while his other glided suggestively up and down the mic stand as he growled out the bridge, all performative angst. Behind him, Astrid wailed on the guitar, her face twisted up with tough girl rage. Ben was still on bass, and Kiz was there, too, on drums. Kiz had always been her favorite—gruff, no-nonsense, and thoroughly unsentimental, like her. He was the only one she’d stayed in nominal contact with after the breakup, at least until recently when Ian and Astrid had insisted on inserting themselves back into her life.
How the fuck had this happened? She found Reece up near the front, doing his embarrassing dance again. A couple of attractive women danced with him, and Violet wondered how on earth he’d convinced them to show up.
When she tapped him on the shoulder, he spun around, scotch sloshing out of the crystal highball glass he was gripping.
“Hey, it’s Vi!” he half shouted, slurring slightly. God, she hated it when he called her “Vi.” The squinty eyes and flushed face indicated he was already drunk and/or stoned.
“Reece, what the bloody hell aretheydoing here?” She hooked a thumb at the stage.
“Surprise!” He tried to do jazz hands but only succeeded in spilling more of his drink.
“Itisa surprise. What did he—” She paused, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then regrouped. “How did this happen?”
“I met your boyfriend at Silverstone—”
“My boyfriend?”
Reece gestured at the stage. “He said he’s your boyfriend.”
The fucking nerve of him. “He’snotmy boyfriend.” Had Ian been lurking around the race that day? She’d only seen him at the hotel, but if he’d crossed paths with Reece, he must have spent the whole fucking day trying to track her down.
“Anyway, he said they could play parties and I liked their stuff, so I thought I’d give them a chance.”
She pressed her palm against her forehead in exasperation. Maybe Revenant Saints wasn’t quite selling out stadiums, but she doubted they needed to play private parties for rich assholes to make ends meet. This was just Ian trying to insert himself into her life, pure and simple. Which meant she needed to put an end to this bullshit.
