Prologue
Sweat poured off Grey Kingston’s body, and his heart beat a too-rapid rhythm, the high and adrenaline rush from his performance still pulsing through his veins as he walked into the lounge backstage. He pulled off his soaked shirt and tossed it onto the floor, grateful for the stocked room and waiting pile of towels. He grabbed one and dried his face and hair, deliberately trying to slow his breathing.
The sound of Tangled Royal fans stomping their feet and demanding an encore echoed through the walls, but the band had performed their final set. Even as his pulse still soared.
He glanced toward the door. “Did she pick up the ticket?” Grey asked Simon Colson, their manager, who was busy texting on his phone.
“What? Who?” Simon, ever the well-dressed Brit, shoved his phone into his trouser pocket. No jeans for him. “Good show,” he said to Grey and the rest of the band, ignoring Grey’s question.
Lola Corbin, their lead singer and Grey’s best friend, was still bouncing in her heels, not yet coming down from their shared high either. “We did rock it,” she said, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder.
Milo Davis, their bassist, grunted something and fell into a chair in the corner. Grey narrowed his gaze. Milo barely had the energy for a full concert these days, and that worried him.
But right now Grey had bigger concerns and turned to Simon. “I asked you if Avery Dare picked up the VIP tickets I told you to leave at the box office.”
Simon shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you.”
Grey scowled at his manager’s I don’t give a shit tone. More and more lately, Simon’s lack of consideration about what the band members wanted grated on Grey’s nerves. Lola might be considering using him for her solo career, but anything Grey did going forward wouldn’t be with the man.
At least he’d indicated he had left the tickets. He’d be out of a job if he screwed with Grey on this. “Fucking find out.”
“What’s so special about this piece of ass?” Simon barely got the words out because Grey grabbed him by his collared shirt and pinned him up against the wall.
“Talk about her like that again and you’re done.”
“Whoa.” Lola put her petite body between them, pushing Grey away from their manager. “Everyone breathe,” she muttered. “You. Go take a walk and calm down before your company shows up,” she ordered Grey.
He stormed off, missing whatever lecture she gave to Simon next.
Though the man had done his job well, helping maneuver Tangled Royal to the elusive top of the charts, he cared about the bottom line and not much else. Especially not the fact that Tangled Royal was more than a band, people with real feelings, issues, and lives. No wonder Simon didn’t believe how serious both Grey and Lola were about changing their futures.
Danny Bills, their drummer, already had a wife and two daughters who lived in L.A. He was ready for home time, and everyone knew it. Milo was another story. If he didn’t stop the drugs, he wouldn’t have a future.
As for Grey, he hoped for more than the travel and fame that had been so important to him way back when. He hoped for her.
His eyes flickered to the door. No sign of Avery. He tipped his head back, wondering if she’d come backstage or ignore the invitation … and him. His stomach gripped painfully at the thought of not seeing her again. She was the one person who not only understood the loner musician he’d been as a teen but who’d grounded him when he’d threatened to spiral. With her soft voice, that thick mane of dark hair, and those lavender-like eyes, she’d burrowed someplace deep inside him. Still, she hadn’t been enough to hold him, not when fame, fortune, and the need to be something more lived within him.
But it was Avery whose face he saw in the nameless women he’d fucked over the years. Avery whose belief in him kept him going when times were hard. Funny how that worked. He wondered if she’d thought of him over the years and if she was as hyped up about possibly seeing him again now.
A loud scream brought him out of his thoughts. He glanced up as a group of women poured into the room. Half-dressed, teased hair, too much makeup, and enough perfume to make him gag. Fucking Simon never listened. Grey had specifically told him not to let any of their crazed female fans backstage.
Grey pushed himself off the wall and stormed over to his manager. “I told you no more groupies after concerts.” Especially not tonight, when he was expecting Avery.
He shot a disgusted look at the women fawning over a dazed Milo. They wouldn’t give a shit if he were dead; they’d want a piece of him anyway. The thought made him want to gag.
“Wasn’t me. Security obviously didn’t get the message,” Simon said, but Grey wasn’t buying it. Simon always had an agenda.
“Grey!” one of the woman shrieked, her high pitch nearly piercing his eardrums.
He glanced up just as one of the groupies he recognized threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her big, fake tits pressed uncomfortably against his chest, and she raked her clawed nails through his scalp.
“Baby, you were so good! So hot on stage. I just knew you were singing di
rectly to me.”
He choked over her sickly sweet scent. More because he’d been dumb enough to screw her once, years ago, after a concert and way too much to drink. She’d been trailing after him ever since. He attempted to detangle himself from her, but she wasn’t letting go. This was why it was time to call it quits.
“Marco!” Grey called out for the bodyguard who usually prevented him from being mauled, but the guy was nowhere to be found.
Beside him, Simon merely grinned, pleased with the fact that the band was liked, wanted, and making him money.
“Back off,” Grey said to the woman, pulling at her arms, but she had them locked tight around him.
“Baby, you don’t mean that.”
“Oh, I really fucking do.” He glanced over, hoping to catch Lola or Danny’s attention and get help when his gaze fell on the woman who had just entered the room.
She was so beautiful she took his breath away. Wholesome yet sexy, creamy skin, gorgeous, silky dark hair, and a nervous expression on her face as she looked around, her overall appearance in stark contrast to the harsher-looking groupies who followed the band.