Page 23 of Claimed By the Rockstars: Part One
Even if holding that kind of secret over someone's head is the last thing I ever thought would be on my bingo card. I'm not that kind of person.
But this ishisfucking fault, and every piece of leverage counts in whatever fucked-up game we're playing.
"You're not eating," I observe, even though there's no food on the table and neither of us has looked at a menu.
"Neither are you."
"I'm not hungry." My stomach chooses that moment to growl loud enough that I'm pretty sure the couple three tables over heard it.
Rex's lips curve into a sardonic smirk. "Liar."
"This isn't exactly a dinner date."
"No," he agrees. "It's a negotiation."
"Is that what we're calling blackmail now?"
He sets down his wine glass. "Let's skip the bullshit. In two weeks, your contract with The Reverie expires. You won't renew it."
I stare at him for a second, processing the audacity. "Excuse me?"
How the fuck does he even know that?
"Vespyr needs a new frontman. One who doesn't break easily," he says simply. "You will sing for me."
Oh, audacity fucking processed. I can't help but laugh. He just stares at me. "Wait, you'reserious? You think I have a choice even if I wanted to go to the other side? The renewal's just paperwork. Stephen owns me whether I sign or not."
"Then you'll find a way to break free."
"Oh, sure. I'll just call up Stephen Hughes, my manager who literally owns my ass, and tell him I've decided to jump ship to his biggest enemy. That'll go over great."
"You're smart. You'll figure it out."
"Why do you hate me so much?" The question explodes out of me before I can stop it. "What did I ever do to you besides exist? Because that's what this is about. Your petty revenge quest. You don't want me to sing for you. You made an enemy of yourself from the day we fucking met."
His jaw tightens behind the mask. "My feelings about you are irrelevant."
"Bullshit."
"You're an atomic weapon," he says simply. "Nothing more. A means to destroy Stephen Hughes."
"Why?" I demand again, leaning forward, needing to at least partially understand what the fuck I've been dragged into. "What did Stephen do that's worth destroying my career, my band, my life?"
"That's not your concern."
"It fucking is if you're using me as ammunition!"
His hand tightens on his wine glass, and for a second I think he might shatter it. "That isn't for you to know. I don't trust you. I never will."
"But you trust me to join yourband? Aren't you guys a full-blown pack?"
"I trust you to do what's necessary to protect yourself." He takes another careful sip of wine, that subtle tilt to the left. "Like I said, you're smart. You'll put the puzzle together eventually."
"Put what together?"
"Why Stephen Hughes deserves everything that's coming to him." He meets my gaze with lethal intensity. “When you join Vespyr,” he continues, and I notice it'swhen, notif, "you'll perform every song you think belongs to The Reverie. Every single one."
"Why?"
