Exclusive Engagement (Rock Arrangement, #4) (ARe ED)

  Exclusive Engagement (Rock Arrangement, #4)

  by Ava Lore

  Published by Brittle Divinity Press, 2013.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  EXCLUSIVE ENGAGEMENT (ROCK ARRANGEMENT, #4)

  First edition. May 24, 2013.

  Copyright © 2013 Ava Lore.

  Written by Ava Lore.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Twenty minutes later an emergency full band meeting had convened in Kent's room and the news was out.

  “Congratulations, Captain Keep-It-In-Your-Pants,” Sonya said as she perused every celebrity gossip site on the web. “This is, by far, the biggest publicity push we've had since Carter threw up on Beyonce's shoes.”

  Manny, leaning over her shoulder, just nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Good job. That looked like a fun time.”

  Sitting next to Kent on the couch, my only response was to bury my face in my hands. Thank god humiliation didn't weigh anything because if it did I would have generated my own gravity field.

  Kent didn't say anything, just stared at the glass coffee table in front of us, as though it were a scrying glass and he could see the future in it.

  “This is stupid,” Carter said. He was standing at the window, glaring down into the parking lot as though he was hoping to find Jason's lurking figure taking pictures in the dark. “This is just stupid. I don't care! I set them up! I wanted this to happen.”

  “Yeah, but ideally you would have broken up very publicly with Rebecca and then told the world that you thought she belonged with your brother instead. This is the sort of thing you have to get out in front of, dumbass.” Sonya snorted and snapped the laptop closed. “Too fucking late for that now. Anything you say is going to be interpreted as face-saving.”

  Carter sat down on the floor in a huff. “But it's not,” he said. His voice had taken on a distinct whining tone, and as he collapsed backwards onto the floor he looked suspiciously like a teenager who'd had his car keys taken away.

  “At least it's publicity?” Manny said.

  “Bad publicity,” Sonya told him,

  “I've been led to believe there is no such thing,” he shot back.

  “There is for Rebecca,” Sonya said. “It doesn't matter what Kent or Carter say, everyone's going to paint her as a slut.”

  Silence descended on the room and I stared at my hands in my lap. I knew Sonya was right.

  “Jesus, Sonya,” Carter said after a minute. “You don't have to say it like that.”

  “I'm just telling you the truth,” she replied. “Do I think she's a slut? Absolutely not. But you guys don't know. The girl always gets the raw end of the deal in little scandals like these. That's just how it is.”

  “I should just tell everyone she was my babysitter to begin with,” Carter said. “Clear the whole mess up.”

  “You can't do that,” I said.

  He looked at me. “Why not?”

  “Because,” I said, “you're getting into film. You barely have a toe in the door, and you can't let people think that you needed twenty-four seven handling. You can't. No one would want to work with you. That's why I posed as your girlfriend in the first place, remember?”

  His jaw worked, but I could see he knew I was right. “Then what are we going to do?” he asked. “We can't just, like, cut you off. That would be cruel.”

  But Sonya was shaking her head. “It might be the best thing for her. Let her fade away into obscurity. There's no need to drag her through all that bullshit any more than she already has been. It'll be a boost on the band's profile and that's it. You know as well as I do that if she hangs around she's going to get fucking eviscerated.” She heaved a sigh. “You want to talk about cruel? Keep her in the spotlight so everyone can gossip about her.”

  I looked at Sonya, but she didn't meet my eyes. She was instead glaring at Carter, as though it were all Carter's fault that these things would happen instead of my own.

  I was an idiot. Who bangs their boyfriend's brother in front of an open window? I'd forgotten what we looked like to the outside world. I'd forgotten what it meant to be here with one of the hottest bands on the planet. I'd forgotten what it meant to have an ex-boyfriend bent on wringing every last drop of usefulness from my desiccated carcass.

  I didn't know how he did it—had he really sat in the parking lot after his humiliation, hoping to catch something? I was willing to bet he'd wanted to get pictures of me and Carter in the next room over, take photos and sell them to a tabloid. I'd given him a much juicier story instead.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  I took a deep breath. “I think I should probably leave,” I said.

  Manny inhaled sharply and Carter shouted, “No!” Kent didn't even move, just stared at the coffee table in front of him, his fingers laced under his chin.

  I wished he would turn and look at me. I knew that he wouldn't let a distraction like me hang around. It was better this way, to cut myself off on my own terms rather than wait for actual feelings to develop between us before I had to inevitably leave.

  But it would have been nice to see him look even slightly pained at the prospect of my going.

  Carter stood up. “I'm not going to let you leave,” he announced. “That's stupid, you shouldn't let bullshit like this get to you. Hell, it happens to me all the fucking time, do you see me getting upset about it?”

  I had to shake my head at that. If there was one thing about Carter that I really admired, it was his ability to not give a fuck what other people thought. But he didn't realize that not everyone could do that. “I know,” I said, “but it'll just be a distraction you guys have to deal with and you don't need that right now.”

  “What are you talking about?” Carter raked a hand through his hair, his eyes wounded, while Kent still sat stony-faced next to me. Why was it that Carter, the person I didn't have a thing for, wanted to fight for me so badly, while the guy I'd slept with last night seemed ready to accept my departure? That hurt.

  Except I sort of knew why. Good lays come and go, but a big sister is hard to find. Who knew the last good female role model Carter had had in his life? He didn't have to tell me that he liked me because I looked after him. Even an idiot could figure that out. What would happen when I wasn't around any longer to help him? I didn't even want to think about it.

  I cleared my throat and tried to explain myself. “What I mean is that the band is going to launch its next album soon. You're going to be setting out on your film career. And there's the tour coming up. You really don't need to deal with saving my image or whatever.” I shrugged. “It happens. Besides, I did a pretty good job rehabilitating your image, didn't I?” I tried to smile at him, but Carter scowled and turned away.

  “This is bullshit,” he said to Manny and Sonya. “You guys, tell her this is bullshit!”

  “It sucks,” Sonya said, “and it's for a bullshit reason. But I think it's the right decision for someone who never asked to be in the spotlight in the first place. It's different for us. We couldn't care less what people see as long as they're looking at us, but Rebecca's a decent person who wouldn't step over her own mother for an interview. She doesn't need this shit.”

  Carter turned pleading eyes to Manny, but he just shrugged, looking troubled. “I don't want her to leave either,” he said. “But I think in the end it's Rebecca's decision.”

  That's goddamn right, I thought. So why didn't I feel better about it.

  Then Kent
stood up.

  He was so magnetic. All eyes in the room turned to him, and I couldn't suppress the little shiver of desire that raced through my body at seeing his towering, lean frame standing over me.

  “I'd like to talk to Rebecca in private,” he said.

  For a moment no one said anything. Then Sonya stood up. “Try not to cause any more scandals in the next twenty minutes,” she told Kent. Then she turned and strode toward the door, dragging Manny in her wake. Carter was the last to go. He didn't look at me as he stomped past, only stared at the ground in front of him with a glare so fierce it seemed like he was trying to set the floor in front of him on fire, and when he exited the room he let the door slam behind him like a gunshot.

  I winced at the sound. My nerves were frayed and raw, close to the surface. I felt as though I'd been dragged across a gravel road, bruised and a little broken. I didn't feel safe, not even with Kent here in the room next to me. Especially with Kent here in the room next to me. Who knew who was watching, really?

  Licking my lips, I stared down at my lap. I still wore my outfit from yesterday. My quick walk of shame hardly even registered with me now when there was so much more to be ashamed of. I couldn't even look Kent in the eye, not with what we'd shared. Knowing that Jason had seen it, knowing that millions of strangers were going to see it... it felt soiled somehow. A tainted experience. It made me sick to think about.

  I transferred my eyes to the carpet. It was full of lint, and there were small bits of detritus everywhere from all the time we'd spent outside. Little blades of dry grass, tiny grains of sand. I should pick them up. They bothered me, just sitting there, as though they belonged there. They didn't. This whole place was filthy...

  “Rebecca.”

  Kent's sweet velvet voice reached through my skin and plucked at my heart. Swallowing hard, I lifted my head and looked up at him.

  Intense blue-green eyes stared down at me. The wild halo of dark hair made him look like a devilish angel, and to my chagrin I couldn't look away as he sat down next to me.

  Then, to my utter shock, he picked my hands out of my lap—the white hands that had been wringing and twisting each other over and over again—and held them in his large, warm, rough musician's fingers.

  “Do you really think running away is going to solve your problem?” he asked me.

  I stared at him. “What?” I said. “I'm not running away...”

  “Yes you are,” he said. “You ran from your parents' house, you ran from your shitbag of an ex-boyfriend, and now you are going to run from me.” His hands tightened. “But I don't let go easily.”

  His handsome, brooding face was like an open book to me. He regarded me serenely with no pretense. He meant exactly what he was saying.

  I tried to tug my hands back from him. “You don't understand,” I said. For some reason my eyes were stinging, as if I were about to cry. Which was stupid. “You don't get it. I can't stay. It would be awful for the band, it would be awful for you...”

  “But that's what he wants you to do,” Kent said. “He wants you to run away from us. He wants to isolate you. If he thinks there is anything you can get him, he is going to run you down and keep you running until you drop dead, and then he'll move on to some other poor woman who's too good for him and who doesn't understand that she's worth more than he'd ever deserve.”

  My heart pounded in my head. “What... what are you talking about?” I almost whispered. “You guys need to focus on your music, on your careers... not on cleaning up my PR disaster.”

  To my shock, Kent threw back his head and laughed. “Disaster?” he said. “PR? You've been in the industry a month, Rebecca, but you don't understand a thing about the business. Disaster was Carter unable to go more than twenty-four hours without trying to snort Comet cleaner up his nose. This? This is peanuts. This is scandal. This is ripe for us to exploit, once we calm down and think about it.”

  Then his eyes darkened. “But it's still an attack on you. I won't let you run away from it. I won't.”

  Anger sparked in me. “Who are you to tell me what I can and can't run away from?” I said. I tugged on my hands again, and this time he let them go. “You were so scared of feeling something for another person that you had to throw me into a fake relationship with your brother so you wouldn't trip and fall and accidentally put your dick in me!” My cheeks were burning as I spoke. I hadn't known that I had felt that way until this moment, but I did. I was mad at Kent. If he hadn't had the dumb idea in the first place, we could have had a discrete boss-employee affair. Now it looked weird and incestuous and it was all his fault. It took two to tango, but only one to come up with a real dumbass idea.

  His lips thinned, but after a moment he nodded. “Touche, Rebecca,” he said. “I get that. But that doesn't mean what I'm saying isn't right.”

  I scowled at him. “Yeah, well,” I said.

  There was a silence.

  “Well what?” he asked.

  I sighed. “That's all I've got. But I don't think I can stand up and face this or whatever it is you're asking me to do. I just can't.”

  “But if you don't, what then?”

  I bit my lip. I didn't know. Would the whole world know my name? Would I ever be able to stick my head out in public again?

  Then Kent said something that made my blood run cold: “And what if he's not done with you yet?”

  I inhaled sharply. “What do you mean?”

  His face darkened again. “I mean he thinks he can get something from you. A leg up in the industry. If he thinks he can still get that this may only be the opening shot. You said he told lies about you and none of your friends believed that you were innocent? What do you think a bunch of people who are already inclined to believe bad things about you are going to think when he shows up doing a tell-all interview in People?”

  My breath hissed between my teeth. “Do you really think that could happen?” I said. My voice was small, just a whisper. The thought that everyone would believe those lies about me was horrible. I hadn't even thought that this could only be the beginning...

  “I've known his type,” Kent said. “My father was just like him. He used and used until there was nothing left. Or until you fought back.” His shadowed face was haunted. “I'd be willing to bet the profit of our entire next album that his next move will be to threaten you with lies. You can't let that happen. No matter how many rooms you clean, you won't keep him away.”

  The ferocity and intensity of his feeling shocked me and warmed me. “Then what should we do?” I said. “If I'm not leaving... what happens next?”

  He leaned back, running his hand over the stubble on his chin as he contemplated the coffee table again. “It's too late to get out in front of the story. So we just let it run. Give the paparazzi something to photograph—all three of us together, laughing, whatever. Carter will give a statement if asked. We'll come up with some story that sounds plausible. And then we'll give him what he wants.”

  I shook my head. “I still don't understand. How is that going to keep him from harassing me?”

  A small, mysterious smile spread over Kent's lips, making me think of all the other things he could do with those lips besides smile. Concentrate! I told myself. Focus on one thing at a time, here...

  “You don't need to worry about that,” Kent said, dragging my attention back to the matter at hand. “For a person like Jason, there is nothing that will be more brutal than giving him exactly what he thinks he wants. With a little manipulation for insurance.”

  I didn't get it, but at this point I was too frayed and too frazzled to even try to think about it. “I still don't understand,” I told him. “That doesn't make any sense, if he gets what he wants then isn't that a good thing?”

  “I'll make sure it's not a good thing.”

  “But how can you make sure it won't be a good—” I started to say, but Kent, apparently fed up with my naysaying, reached out and pulled me to him in a sudden startling kiss.

  I ga
sped, falling into him. My hands found his shoulders, our legs pressed together intimately as his mouth descended upon mine. Slow and sweet, he nibbled at my lips with his, sending jolts of lightning through my body, the heady feeling of flying zipping through my brain. His hands in my hair curled possessively as he coaxed my mouth open and slipped his tongue between his lips to caress mine with gentle, teasing flicks.

  I moaned and shifted on the couch, rising up on my knees, and Kent made a pleased sound, his voice echoing in my mouth as he slid his hands down to my ass and scooped me up and into his lap, spreading my legs until I straddled him. The kiss grew hungry, seeking, robbing me of breath, and I almost forgot my protests in a hypoxia-induced haze, but then Kent drew back and looked me straight in the eye.

  “Rebecca,” he said, “when I first met you, you proved you were the sort of person I could rely on by taking charge of a situation that most people wouldn't have known where to begin with. Then you proved you were the sort of person I could trust when you stuck around and stuck it out when the going got tough.” One hand left my hip and drifted up to my face, running his thumb over my cheek and sending little shivers out across my skin. “Can you trust me? Will you let yourself rely on me this time?”

  I stared into his eyes, seeing only sincerity there. Well, sincerity and lust. The hard mound of his cock nudged me between my legs, trying to persuade me to just give in. Just... give in...

  Well, why not? If Kent wanted to help me, if he wanted to protect me, I could let him. It had been so long since I felt safe. I felt safe with Kent.

  Tentatively, I nodded my head. “Okay,” I said. “I trust you.”

  “Good,” he said, and kissed me again.

  We were in danger of tumbling back into bed together when a harsh pounding on the door to Kent's room jerked us out of our whirlwind of desire.

  “Come on!” Carter shouted from the other side of the door. “Stop sucking face, there's only free breakfast for another fifteen minutes!”