ed, walking her to the door. I wanted to go with her, but at the same time, I knew the guys and the rest of the crew would expect me to stay, at least for a little while. Nalia was right; I did have to stay and mingle and at least try to have a good time. As the leader of this band, it was pretty much expected of me, even if I wasn't really in the mood for it.
I watched her get onto the elevator before I headed back inside the penthouse, and couldn't deny there was a pang of sadness and disappointment that she wasn't going to be at the afterparty with me. Talon and Jay, meanwhile, had cranked up the stereo system and were pumping some party tunes, and people were starting to dance.
I made my way over to the bar where I got the attention of the bartender and ordered a couple of drinks, downing them quickly in an attempt to drown my disappointment before joining the others. Forty-five minutes later, the crew arrived, bringing a few more guests up with them. The penthouse quickly became packed with partygoers. The party was definitely on now, and I was starting to feel a slight buzz from the drinks.
“Great show tonight. Gonna be a good tour,” some of the crew members said in passing as they picked up drinks at the bar. I ended up hanging with several of the road crew guys on the sofas, bullshitting and laughing as I downed a few more drinks. I was having fun, but it didn’t feel quite right because Nalia wasn’t with me. I tried to shake the feeling, but for some unknown reason, I couldn’t.
I had a heavy buzz going when I got up and headed to the bar for another drink. Talon came over and slung an arm around my shoulder.
“Come on! Let’s do some shots!” he said, slurring a little bit.
“You sure you need to do any more shots?” I asked, unable to help smiling.
“Hell yes!” he snorted, then slapped the bar. “This party is only just getting started, bro! Four shots of fireball!”
The bartender came over and filled up four shot glasses and Talon beamed at me picking up one.
“To Bleeding Heart!” He clinked his glass on mine, and several hoots of agreement sounded around the room.
“To Bleeding Heart,” I agreed before taking the first shot and quickly following it with the second. If I had to mingle, I might as well get a bit drunk.
“A couple more?” Talon shot me a mischievous glance. I nodded. Why the hell not?
After two more shots, I was definitely in a more sociable mood. Still, something was missing with Nalia not being there, and I couldn't really get in the right mood for it, even with the alcohol flowing through my veins. I hung out for an hour or so more, then decided I’d had enough. I wanted to spend some time with her.
Since Talon and Jeremiah were busy chatting up girls, I excused myself with an Irish goodbye and headed into the hall for the elevator. I knew she was just one floor down, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember her room number. You drunken idiot, I thought as I stared at my swaying reflection on the mirrored elevator doors.
Ever stubborn, I stepped off the elevator onto her floor, looking up and down the hallway, hoping that seeing the room numbers might jog my memory. What the hell was her room number? 218? 216? I remembered it was in the teens but not which one. Was it an even or odd number? I could knock on half if I remembered and find her.
No, don't do that, I told myself. It was two in the morning. I doubted anyone sleeping in any of those rooms would appreciate me trying to guess which room she was in that way. I sighed and rested my forehead against the wall. Maybe those last few shots hadn't been my brightest idea.
A door opened, and I looked up, but it was just some old man in his bathrobe who gave me a weird look when I smiled at him. Damn. Like I’d be lucky enough to have her step out of her room with perfect timing like that. I stood in the hall a little longer, hoping that I’d either remember her room number or that she’d come out to pull me into her room, but neither happened.
The longer I stood there, in fact, the more I realized what a stupid idea this had been. As shitfaced as I was, I would probably make an ass out of myself trying to be smooth with her, anyway.
With a sigh, I turned toward the elevator and stumbled back in, pressing the button for the penthouse floor. When I walked back in, Jay and Nate were hanging with some girls on the couch, but instead of more partying, I headed straight for one of the rooms to crash, no longer interested in hanging out or mingling.
I threw myself on the empty bed, grumbling about not getting to see Nalia tonight and then humming a song I had stuck in my head but couldn’t remember where I knew it from. After a minute, it hit me: it was the song Nalia had been playing at the bar. Shit, she really was starting to get under my skin.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Nalia
I watched as Owen and the guys headed out into the conference room for their first press conference. Owen looked like a million bucks with a smile to match as he stepped in front of cheering fans and dozens of reporters. He fit the role of rock star so well. It was easy to see why all the girls loved him and why the band had such a huge following.
He was unfazed by all of the flashing cameras and screaming admirers as they walked out and took their seats. Instead, he simply stood calmly with a smile on his face, waiting to get going. Today, they were announcing the new album they’d be releasing, which they had finished recording before leaving for the tour.
I smiled as I watched them. I had never enjoyed a job so much, and I loved working with them. Some days, I still couldn't believe how lucky I was to have landed this job. Not to mention how amazing it was for my life to have totally turned around like it had. One minute I'd been almost penniless, unemployed with no hope for a decent job in sight, and now there I was, working with one of the biggest rock bands in the country and having a blast doing so. It still felt like a dream sometimes, as if it couldn't possibly be real.
It didn’t hurt that I was also working with one of the most gorgeous rock star billionaires around. And even if Owen and I hadn’t gotten any alone time the other night, he’d taken it in stride, and things were good.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I excused myself, heading to the back.
“Hey, Jackson,” I answered, smiling.
“How’s my little sis doing?” he asked, and I could almost hear his smile through the phone.
“Not bad, not bad.”