My 3 Rockstar Bosses

But would I get that chance?

The thought made me tremble with pleasure. But after basking in the fantasy for a moment, I forced myself to get up and grab my bag. Alpha Prime needed my help at the arena. When the show was over, they would need to hydrate and relax.

Plus, I’d get to watch them wipe all that sweat from those rippling muscles.

I mentally scolded myself. Helena would have my hide if she found out about the plane. Nothing more could happen between myself and the band members. There were too many reasons that it could all go wrong.

It won’t happen again. The airplane was the only time, I promised myself.

Closing the hotel room door behind me, my feet strode purposefully to the elevator. Working needed to be my primary focus. Work work work. Seeing the world yes, but also a nose to the grindstone attitude.

The airplane fisaco was a one time thing, I promised myself. I couldn’t get it on with my bosses. After all, nothing good could come out of it. Three men? International rock stars? Guys who had women falling at their feet?

Plus, they were my employers.

I had to stay in control.

I had to resist temptation. But the problem was … I didn’t want to.

CHAPTER FIVE

Mason

“Alpha Prime! Alpha Prime! Alpha Prime!”

The amphitheater shook with stomping feet and voices chanting our names. We'd already done one encore. The crowd wanted more, and after that, they would ask for another. It was what happened every time.

Unfortunately for the screaming masses, Trent, Nick, and I didn’t have it in us. Not tonight. Encores were tiring. The energy that went into an encore had to be ten times as much as we put into any other song on the set-list. After hours of playing without hydration, it was time to relax.

I strode off the stage just behind my band-mates. The venue was ringing with the sound of chicks screaming our name. As usual, the show was sold out, most of the seats filled by women, wet and creaming with joy.

Yet another city on its knees.

“This shit gets you off, huh?” Trent grunted, shoving me playfully from behind. He flashed a smile.

“Don't say it doesn't do the same to you,” I growled. “They fuckin’ love us.”

“They love Trent,” Nick grumbled, but I could hear the laughter in his voice. That man never took those slim women seriously. Girls could go after Trent all day long, but Nick would never care. As long as he got to play his music and write the words to our songs, he didn't give a shit about anything else.

I didn’t blame him, because I felt the same. Again, curvy girls our are thing. We don’t give a shit about skeletons.

Unfortunately, the dressing room was a hike. We strode through endless hallways, twisting and turning, but never arrived. It was nothing like Toronto or Detroit, where the private spaces were right behind the stage. What the fuck? This was weird.

Because it was like walking a gauntlet.

Girls, girls, and more girls lined the walls, screaming our names as loud as sirens. Man, this was getting on my nerves because the chicks were the most predictable part of our fame. Fans had irritated me for the past few years, but for some reason, the constant catcalls were bothering me more than usual.

Despite the music still flooding through my system, I didn't feel so great. The music was my drug, but the high was wearing off more quickly than normal. Their high-pitched screams made my head throb, a pound starting at the base of my skull.

“Fuck, my head is killing me,” I groaned.

“It's because you didn't get more of you-know-who,” Trent diagnosed, taking out his phone and gave me a smirk. “I can try and fix that for you, dude.”

He was always the problem-solver.

“I don’t think she’s ready for what I need,” I rasped, trying to avoid any flashing lights. “This is a pretty shitty migraine.”

But the groupies just wouldn’t stop.