Page 45 of Behind the Lyrics
As I stuffed my phone into my purse, it rang. Another unknown call. I’d sent an extra twenty-five bucks earlier today, so the credit card company probably hadn’t received the notification from the automated system yet.
I sent the call to voicemail, remembering I still hadn’t listened to several others. The phone buzzed again. “Seriously? It’s almost ten at night. Thought it was illegal to call so late.”
Tired of the vibrations, I switched it off, not ready to deal with snarky, pushy bill collectors.
The door creaked open. A young girl, about eighteen or nineteen, with short black hair, chewed bubble gum. A headset curved over the top of her head with a mic near her lips. “Hi.” Her voice, bubbly and high, made her sound younger than she probably was.
I gave her a small wave, unsure what else to do. “Uh, hey.”
“Viktor’s on his way. There was a bit of a snafu in the audience. Some guy started a fight in the mosh pit then tried to reach Viktor onstage and attack him.”
“What?” I shot to my feet, adrenaline flowing through my arteries, speeding my heartbeat and breathing. “Is he okay?”
A big, pink bubble formed from her mouth.Pop.“Yeah, he’s fine. Security didn’t let the idiot get close.” Her tongue swiped the deflated gum from her lips, and she chewed again. “They dragged him out and called the cops because he wouldn’t stop being an ass. Viktor wanted me to pop in and check on you, tell you why it’s taking so long. He’s on the way back, though.”
Or he wanted to make sure I didn’t run off.I couldn’t decide if I was amused or irritated.
“Glad he’s okay.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. It was probably just a normal day in the life of a rock star having drunk fans creating a ruckus.
“Do you need anything?” Her stare roamed the room, checking the food and drinks.
Several male voices bounced from the hallway, laughing and speaking in rapid sentences, their echoes projecting down the long corridor.
“No, I don’t think so.” I felt awkward waiting in his dressing room.Hope she doesn’t think I’m a booty call or something.
Her fingers gripped the doorhandle, and she twisted her head to peer to her side. “Oh,” she whispered, “here he comes.” When she turned toward me, her eyes shone. “God, you’re so lucky. Even if he’s a little old, I’d do him in a heartbeat.”
“W-what?” Jealousy warred with humor. She was just a kid, yet she, too, had fallen under his animalistic, crass charm.Yep, she thinks I’m a booty call. How mortifying.“I’m not going to do—”
Through the crack, his form appeared, and he nudged her out of the way. “Thanks, Margo. I’ll take it from here.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Farrow. And it’s Marsha, not Margo.” She giggled and retreated.
He strode in, damp hair plastered to his skull, cheeks full of color, lush lips curved in an arrogant smirk.Gorgeous and sexy.
I clasped my hands in front of me, fighting flutters of butterflies tumbling in my belly. This lifestyle—hanging out in dressing rooms, hearing about lunatic fans trying to attack a celebrity, and having assistants or whatever Margo was as chauffeurs—wasn’t my style. I preferred things calm and collected, not this chaos that followed Viktor Farrow.
He stopped his forward momentum after two steps and tilted his head, raking his gaze over my face. “What’s wrong, Angel?”
Licking my lips, I stalled, not sure how to put my feelings into words. “I don’t think I can—”
“Stop.” Without taking his sultry gaze from mine, the heel of one foot kicked the door closed then he reached backward and pushed the button on the knob to lock it.
“What are you doing?” I took a step backward, my calf contacting the soft leather of the couch, stopping my escape.
“Ensuring no interruptions. We’re going to have that face-to-face right now.” He moved fluidly as he stalked my way—graceful, predatory, and sure.
Trapped with nowhere to hide, I hunched my shoulders and wrapped my arms around my stomach. It wasn’t that I feared Viktor, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but Iwasfrightened of what he wanted to say…what he wanted me togive.
He gripped my upper arms and pulled me close, his hot breath mixing with mine. “Before you say or think anything else, let me show you what has kept me grounded all this time.” With both hands clamped on my arms, he freed one palm and dug in his front pocket.
So, this—whatever it is—must be the thing he said he treasures most.I craned my neck with curiosity, willing to give him this moment.
Keeping his fingers tight around the object, he slid his other hand down my arm, circled my wrist, then turned my palm upward. “Here.”
Reflexively, I opened my fist, and he dropped a bronze coin in my hand. It was still warm from being next to his skin.What is this?Frowning, I flipped it over. I’d never seen anything like it. “I don’t understand.”
There was something written on the back. I traced its surface with my fingertips.
