Page 7 of East (The Moral Compass 3)

Before I can think any more, he’s gone, and I’m left waiting in a tiny office for someone to give me the green light to leave.

Was he going to kiss me?

Chapter 6

Zed

Thesoundcheckisdone,and the lighting system is sorted. Drake has headed back to the hotel suite through the back corridors. I, however, have to make a scene out front to distract people while he makes his exit.

What I don’t expect is the scene to be laid out in front of me: East McGarry kicking off at an old dude and punching him square in the face.

Oh shit.

I walk over to intervene but see she is doing very well on her own. West would have my arse if I didn’t get her out of there quick though, so that’s what I try.

Except she’s a McGarry and she knows how to look after herself. Before I know it, she’s backward head-butted me, scraped my shin, and is on the run.

I yell her name, and she stops dead in her tracks. She’s taken aback to see it’s me that has interrupted her fight for feminism.

I need to know why she’s here. So, I drag her over to one of the private offices and pull her inside. This has to be a private conversation. The only people who know I’m here are Drake and his team. I’m not even convinced it’s a good idea that they all know what’s going on, but they do, so it’s too late for second-guessing now.

Once we’re inside the room, I try to get some sense out of East. She just keeps ranting at me, not making any sense.

She does say that her brothers haven’t sent her and I believe that, but I don’t really hear much else. Those bloody eyes. They hypnotise me. All those dirty fucking thoughts I’ve had flood back and, fuck, I’m hard.

When she tries to leave, I find myself holding the door closed. Just one taste of those lips. Just one kiss. That’s all I need. I can imagine the rest. I just need to know what those lips feel like on mine.

Her beautiful face, her perfect cheekbones, and those sapphire-blue eyes. When she licks her lips, my dick nearly bursts out of my jeans. Fuck!

Suddenly, someone bangs on the door. I jump back, shocked at how close I got. Shit. I need to get her away from me. I need to stop fantasising over this woman. She will be the death of me. Literally.

I give her instructions to hide, and I leave.

The paparazzi is going mad, screaming and yelling.

“Who’s in that room with you, Drake?”

“Who’s the mysterious woman, Drake?”

“Is that the new lady, Drake?”

Fucking hell. I couldn’t live like this. It’s awful. Every move is watched. Every move is documented. And that’s when I get an idea. Probably the worst idea I’ve ever had, but it’s out of my mouth before I even get a chance to think it through.

“She’s my Personal Assistant, and she’s very new, so if you don’t mind giving her a bit of breathing space, you can leave your details with her assistant; she’ll contact you to arrange a press conference after the show. Thank you.”

I point over to East’s friend who looks shocked, but she’s good. She plays along nicely as the crowd of reporters and photographers head over and start handing cards over left, right, and centre.

I make my exit quick and head back to the suite where my sleaze of a brother is waiting.

As I ride the elevator, my mind goes back to the conversation with East. What did she mean by not even leaving a number? Then, it hits me. The dirty fucking bastard.

I burst through the door of the suite to where my brother is lying face down on a massage table. My anger is at a record high as I lift the table and tip his naked ass onto the floor.

“Tell me what you did to East McGarry, or I swear I will fuck you up so bad you will be singing fucking soprano.”

“Who the hell is East or whatever you just said?” he whines, grabbing a cushion and scuttling backward while covering his small prick.

“You know damn well who she is. She has just told me she spent the night with you, and you left her the next day and didn’t even leave your number,” I bellow.

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