Page 8 of Not Another Rockstar
“You should finish your tea first, and one of the security guys has gone to get us breakfast. I didn’t think you’d want to eat with the others.”
His kindness nearly got her tears going again.
“Can I ask you a question?” she said.
“That’s a question.”
His black sweatpants hung low on his hips, and she could make out the tattoo of an angel with a sword on his hip.Stop staring,she scolded herself, focusing on her tea. He followed her gaze to his hip and walked towards her. She backed up a little on the bed, unsure of what he was about to do.
“You had a question?” he asked, reaching up over her head to a cabinet. He pulled out a worn-out band T-shirt.
“Have you seenThe Devil Wears Prada?” she asked, while he shrugged on the T-shirt.
“Yes,” he admitted, sipping on his black coffee. The smell was tempting, but she didn’t think caffeine would do her any good right now. “I’ve got sisters. I couldn’t avoid rom-coms.”
“You know that scene where Stanley Tucci talks about how your personal life going up in flames means it’s time for a promotion?” Phoebe hugged the warm mug to her chest as she gathered the courage to express her feelings. She wasn’t as close to Axel as she was to her brother or August, so he was the only one she could ask. “Is this the price of my art career taking off? I lose him. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s like the more successful we each became, the further we drifted apart.”
“Don’t ever think your success played any part in his actions. You didn’t lose him because of your art. Cillian lost you because he’s a cheating arsehole who didn’t appreciate what he had,” Axel said, angry enough for both of them.
Too tired to be angry or sad, a numbness settled over Phoebe. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” she said.
“Don’t get used to it,” he said teasingly. “I just don’t want you to ruin any more of my clothing with your tears.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes.
“I can drive you back to your hotel once the food arrives. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk to Cillian first before heading back to your hotel?” he asked, putting his mug in the sink, not meeting her gaze.
He probably feels uncomfortable caught in the middle,she realised.
“I don’t want to speak to him or anyone,” she sighed, and Axel shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, I’m here, so I’ll talk to you,” she clarified.
“How considerate of you,” he said with a smirk. His strong jaw flexed, and with his shaved head, tattoos and sullen expression, he looked a little frightening. Maybe he liked people to think he was scary so they’d leave him alone, but given he’d saved her from the press last night, let her stay in his bed and borrow his clothes, she knew he had a good heart beneath his hard shell.
“Thank you for talking me out of confronting the press last night. I doubt I would’ve given them a single coherent quote, and they’d probably have reported that I was hysterical or intoxicated.”
Making a scene at a concert only twenty-four hours after her exhibition closed wouldn’t have done her any favours, and she wasn’t going to let Cillian taint her success.
Axel opened his mouth to speak, but then the bus door opened and she remembered the breakfast he’d ordered. The thought of food brought her some joy. However, the sudden sight of Cillian’s beetroot face made her want to jump out one of the tinted windows. Coming face to face with the man she loved so much broke her heart all over again.
“It’s been less than twelve hours, and you have my fiancée in your bed?”
Both were startled by Cillian’s accusation as he charged towards them. He was wearing the same clothes as last night and his hair was greasy—he hadn’t even washed since he was withher.
“First of all, fuck you,” she snapped. “Second, even if we slept together, it would be none of your business. We broke up thesecond I saw you with another woman. You didn’t even lock the door.”
When Axel stepped between them; she wasn’t sure which of them he was protecting. The one person she’d never thought she’d need protection from was Cillian. The thought made her ill—how could this be the man she’d agreed to marry?
Enraged, Cillian grabbed Axel’s T-shirt, causing him to drop his mug. Phoebe gasped, but Axel didn’t even flinch as the hot coffee pooled around his bare feet.
Yesterday’s rage flooded back into her.
“Get off him!” Phoebe barked, shoving Cillian back.
Cillian stumbled back wide-eyed. He didn’t say a word as she turned to Axel.
“Thank you for the safe space and the tea, but I’m leaving,” she said, refusing to glance in Cillian’s direction.
She put on her heels, but she kept on Axel’s clothes. Going out in her dress felt too revealing, and she didn’t want Cillian to see even an inch of her skin.
