Wicked Indulgence (Wicked Innocence 2)

Only I know it’s not going to be as easy as that. My life outside of singing is a mess, and this is my outlet. I’m stupid if I think I’m not going to do all I can to hold onto that.

The party is in full swing when we arrive. I immediately recognize people, and it feels fucking weird being here in a social situation with them where I’m not the crazy fan. I’m one of them. Max calls out my name. I glance around and spot him over by the bar. I chuckle. Where else would he be? I don’t see the other guys, but I know they can’t be too far away.

I tell Lyndall where I’m headed and then make my way over to Max. He slaps me on the back, knocking the glass of whiskey on ice as he shoves it into my open hand. I wipe the spillage from my shirt.

“Had a few already?” I chuckle.

He laughs and denies it, but his glassy eyes tell me I’m right.

“Dude, how fucking crazy is this shit?” he says, looking around in awe. “That’s fucking Michael Ramden over there.”

I turn and see that it is, in fact, Michael, star of one of the biggest TV comedies of the moment.

“Can I steal you away for a moment?”

I turn and see Lyndall smiling at me. Max raises his eyebrows and I shake my head. She’s here to support and help all of us, and while I’m not saying I don’t love the attention, I feel like she singles me out a lot and I wonder what the guys think about that.

I look at Max again and see his attention is no longer on me. I follow his line of sight and laugh. Gemma.

“Sure, no problem,” I say to Lyndall, knowing Max isn’t even going to notice my departure.

We walk over to the door that leads to the inside of the house—or mansion. I’m struck by how fucking huge this place is. Even mid-party, everything is perfect and in place. The sleek gray and neutral tones of the place look fantastic against the modern, top-of-the-line furniture. Everywhere I look is black leather and silver.

“Saxon, this is one of the producers for ACL records, Tinton Reed.”

I snap my attention back to Lyndall and the tall, thin man she’s standing with.

“Hey,” I say. I put out my hand, which he shakes. I’m a bit confused as to why she’s introducing me to a guy from a rival record label when she’s supposed to be working for EML. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you.”

“You too, Saxon. I’ve heard plenty about you,” Tinton says, his eyes darting from Lyndall and back to me. “I’ve been following your success. You’ve got quite a voice. How are you finding everything so far?”

“I’m loving it,” I say honestly. “All I’ve ever wanted is the chance to share my passion, and I’m excited to be able to do that.”

“Have you considered going solo?” Tinton asks, his eyes narrowing through the thin wire frames of his glasses.

“It’s been mentioned, but I think at the moment I’m happy with the band.” I shift awkwardly on my feet. I owe the band so much. I couldn’t just up and leave—not when we’re this close. “Look, I better get back out there to my friends. It was nice to meet you, though,” I say, shaking his hand again.

I stalk toward the door, annoyed at Lyndall for putting me in that situation. Why is she so hell-bent on pushing me out on my own? I don’t get what she gets out of it. Back outside, I scan the room for Max but I can’t see him. I spot Leo and Bazz over by the far side of the pool and head toward them, stopping at the bar for a whiskey, straight, on the way.

“What the hell was that?” Lyndall demands, grabbing my forearm and turning me around. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me? That guy you just brushed off is practically royalty in this business.”

“I know who he is,” I reply, my voice quiet. “The person I’m not sure about is you. What’s your angle, Lyndall?”

Her pretty little mouth drops open. “My angle?” she repeats.

“Yes. Why are you so determined to push me into going solo?”

“I’ve brought it up once, Sax. Once. I had no idea he was going to ask you that in there.”

“Then why were you even introducing me to him?” I growl. “I mean, shouldn’t your loyalties lie with the company that pays you?”

I know I need to get away before I say something I really regret. I send Max a text as I’m leaving so he knows not to look for me.