Managed: A VIP Novel Part 18

I have to force myself to pay attention. "Do you not want them to know?"

"Well," she falters. "I don't know. It's just kind of..." Brown eyes narrow on me. "Do you want them to know you need me to fall asleep?"

"Not particularly."

She stops at the threshold of the room. No one has noticed us yet, so we have a bit of privacy. "They're going to think we're together."

A lovely flush pinks her round cheeks. My finger itches to stroke them.

"And that would be a problem?" I find myself asking.

Her full lips part, then snap shut before she answers. "It's a problem if it's a lie. And, no, I don't like the idea of people I work with gossiping about us."

"I see." With a nod, I turn toward the room. "Oy, listen up. Sophie will be traveling with me on my coach. And it's none of your b.l.o.o.d.y business why, so I'd better not hear a word about it. Understood?"

At my side, Sophie makes a strangled gurgle that sounds like a drowning chipmunk.

My boys, however, just blink back at me before grinning.

"Well, all right then, Scottie," Rye drawls. "Glad to see you taking initiative in your personal life."

Whip shakes his head. "f.u.c.king knew it."

"You know nothing," Sophie hisses at him.

Jax high-fives Rye. "You owe us each fifty bucks, Killian."

"s.h.i.+t, and I was so sure he'd hold out longer. Thanks a lot, Scottie." Killian glares at me. The little a.r.s.e.

"What did I say about speculating?" I warn. "One more word and I'll have you all doing a music video with synchronized dancing faster than you can say Backstreet Boys."

Whip lifts up a hand. "Okay, geesh. Got it. You two are an impenetrable wall that no one shall gaze upon. No need to go all Simon Cowell on us."

I don't have time to see how the others react. Sophie pinches my side.

"Ouch. Do you mind? This is a silk-wool blend. You'll wrinkle it."

"It's about to be shredded." She seethes up at me, eyes shooting sparks. "You just totally threw our business out there."

"I told them not to talk about it."

Her nose wrinkles. "Which means they'll be talking about it even more."

"No, they won't."

"Yes, we will," Rye calls.

I point at him. "Start practicing your Running Man."

"Is anyone else impressed that he knows dance moves?"

Sophie pokes me with her finger to punctuate each word. "This is all your fault."

Brenna takes it upon herself to stroll over. Her smile is wide and smug. "What did I tell you, Scottie-boy? I hire the best people."

Poor Sophie is beet red now. I feel a pinch of regret for putting her in an awkward position. But I know these people. They are my family. Better than family. Teasing aside, they'll do as I ask, if only because I've never asked them for anything personal before.

I would tell Sophie this now, but I think it would embarra.s.s her further. So I settle for meeting her gaze and putting all the tender grat.i.tude I feel into my voice. "Yes, Brenna, you do."

My reward is Sophie's expression going soft and luminous. Something cracks open within my chest. I don't know what it is, but I do know one thing: my chatty girl has no idea what she's gotten herself into. Because I'm not letting go.

Sophie

"You excited about touring?" Jules asks as we sprawl on the gra.s.s lawn in Edinburgh's West Princes Street Park.

Above us is a rare, cloudless blue sky. If I lift my head, I'll see the dark, craggy face of Castle Rock rising almost straight from the earth and the low-slung, imposing fortress of Edinburgh Castle sitting on top of it.

Last night, Kill John played at the castle's Esplande, which is an open, U-shaped stadium on top of Castle Rock with the castle as a backdrop. I've never experienced a concert like that, the glittering lights of the city below us, the medieval-looking castle creating an air of timelessness as Kill John brought fans to a screaming roar. It lifted goose b.u.mps on my skin.

After taking a few pictures of the guys practicing at a recording studio this morning, I was given the rest of the day off. Since Jules also has free time on her hands, and I was too worked up about the prospect of rooming with Gabriel, I convinced her to escape with me and tour the town until we leave later this evening. And so we are taking full advantage, soaking up the sunlight streaming down on this lovely day.

"Completely," I answer, cracking open one eye to glance at her. "This isn't your first tour, though. Does it still hold any excitement for you?"

"Of course. I live for this." She turns my way. In the sunlight, I see that her eyes aren't simply brown but streaked with green. "It's more than a career; it's a dream come true. And one day, I'll be in charge of my own bands."

"I envy you. I don't have a dream like that."

Jules rolls to her side to face me, her head pillowed on the big, green hobo bag she always carries. "What do you mean?"

As I think about how to explain, a mime dressed in a tuxedo stops on the wide walking path and sets down a portable radio, which starts playing Michael Jackson's "Thriller." I watch him dance and fight a smile. At the far end of the park, by the Ross Fountain, a guy in a kilt plays the bagpipes. Their music blends into a disjointed clash of sounds. It's wonderfully horrible, and nothing I'd ever have experienced if I hadn't taken a leap and gotten onto a plane with only the smallest bit of information to go on.

"I've never had a set dream job," I tell Jules, watching the mime dance. "Never had an intense ambition. And sometimes I wonder if I'm defective that way."

"You are not defective," Jules says with feeling. "Maybe you just haven't found what you love to do yet."

I shake my head and smile. "No, that's not it. I simply don't really care what I'm doing as long as I get to live life, be happy, and enjoy new things. Making money is great because it helps me travel, puts a roof over my head. But at the end of the day? I'm not ambitious and never will be." I shrug and pull a blade of bright green gra.s.s from the dirt. "Even worse? Eventually I want a home and to share it with someone who gets me completely, someone I can't keep my hands off. I want babies, and to decorate my porch on Halloween and Christmas."

Jules frowns. "Why is that bad?"

"Okay, it isn't bad per se, but all my peers seem to have this drive to make their mark in the world. And here I am thinking that a simple thing like this-" I sweep my arm toward the looming hill face, which looks like a Victorian painting. "-is something to live for."

Jules scans the scene before us, and a slow smile lights her face. "Well, then, I envy you more. Because I should be living in the moment. Worrying about what could go wrong in the future gives me f.u.c.king heartburn." She chuckles, and her fuchsia curls bounce around her face. "And I really need to stop worrying about disappointing Scottie."

"That's easy," I say. "Just remember he's all bark."

G.o.d, I love it when he barks, gets me all s.h.i.+very and hot. Which should tell me I'm completely twisted.

Jules certainly looks as me as though I am. "Girl, I've felt his bite. Trust me, it's real, and it's scary." But then she winces. "s.h.i.+t, I forgot you're with him now."

"Consorting with the enemy, you mean?" I tease.

"Something like that." She doesn't look as though it really bothers her, however.

I rest my forearm over my forehead. "First off, I'm not with him. We're...well, it's complicated."

"You don't say."

I laugh. "Okay, really complicated. But even if I was with him, I wouldn't take sides or discuss anything we say."

"s.h.i.+t, I'm sorry," Jules says with a breath. "I didn't mean that, you know. I'm just...well, we're all kind of surprised that you and Scottie are...complicated."

I knew there'd be talk, despite Gabriel's insane notion that if he decreed silence, they'd obey. Deluded man. I'm not surprised by Jules's confusion. Oddly, I don't really care if they all speculate or don't understand. Because the flip side is that tonight I'm going to be sleeping in Gabriel's bed.

A near giddy feeling of antic.i.p.ation tickles my skin and tightens my belly at the thought of being wrapped up in Gabriel; it's a full-body experience lying with him. He's big enough to make me feel small and delicate. Yet his need for my presence makes me feel strong and worthy.

It will be torture pressing up against that hard body, my lips far too close to his smooth, tight skin that burns slightly hot. I love the way he smells, and the steady cadence of his breathing. These things are already indelibly marked in my memory and upon my skin.

Most of all, I love that I see a side of him no one else does. I want to know this man. I've just told Jules I want to live in the moment, but for the first time in years, I look toward the future with a bit of wistfulness and some fear.

I close my eyes as "Thriller" starts up once more. "I'm not very good at complicated," I tell Jules. "But for Gabriel, I'm willing to try."

"For his sake, I hope you succeed." The affection I hear in her voice has me thinking she likes Gabriel more than she'll admit. "Because that man needs a social life more than anyone I've ever met."

Chapter Eleven.

Sophie

I stall until the last second to get myself on Gabriel's bus. Dusk has settled over the parking lot where the buses are already idling, a snakelike caravan that holds Kill John's tour. Gabriel's bus is toward the end, a glossy black tube against the orange sky.

His driver, a very nice older gentleman named Daniel, greets me with a nod and a smile. "Made it by the skin of your teeth."

I think he knows I was stalling.

"Thanks for driving us," I tell him at the door. "You need anything? Coffee? Dinner?"

"No, miss. I have a very nice setup in the front. Scottie makes certain of that."

As well he should since he's relying on Daniel to keep us alive and safe while driving all night. I asked Brenna about the drivers. They sleep during the day in whatever hotel we stop at and stay up all night driving when we're on the move again. Most of them have been on multiple tours with the band.

Then again, Gabriel truly does make certain every small detail of the tour is attended to. Earlier today, he had Sara, one of the interns, pack up my things while I was goofing off with Jules and put them away in his bus. You'd think I'd find this invasive, but truthfully, I've been living out of my suitcase, and not having to go through the awkward task of unpacking, asking where I should put this or that while he looks on, is a relief.

Instead, I received a text from Sara telling me where everything is. I thanked her profusely and sent her a Starbucks gift certificate. Her delight in a free frap makes me consider sending Gabriel's entire staff certificates. All of them seem to spin constantly like cogs in the well-oiled Kill John machine, with Gabriel at the helm. And while he isn't cruel, he isn't exactly handing out praise for their efforts, either. It's clear he expects jobs to be done right the first time, and that goes for his as well.

The other buses are closing their doors, everyone tucked in for the trip.

I can stall no longer, and after wis.h.i.+ng Daniel a good night, I step up into the relative cool and quiet of the bus and close the door behind me with a definitive thud. The pristine interior is empty, Gabriel nowhere to be seen. I admit, I'm unpleasantly shocked. I'd expected him to be lounging in a chair with his feral grace and vaguely admonis.h.i.+ng expression. Is he running late?

I glance around as the bus lurches forward. Bracing my legs, I wait until I'm accustomed to the gentle rocking. I'm about to call out, or maybe buzz Daniel to warn him that he's left his boss behind, when Gabriel's deep voice comes from the bedroom.

"About b.l.o.o.d.y time. Were you trying to miss the bus, Darling?"

Relief swamps me so strongly I have to sag against the kitchenette countertop. "I like to be fas.h.i.+onably late," I call back.

"Just remember," he retorts, still talking from the depths of the bedroom, "the caravan waits for no one."

"It waited for me just now." I stroll toward the bedroom but come to an abrupt halt at the threshold. For a second, I can only gape at the sight that greets me. It's so shocking, I turn around to check whether there are cameras rolling and I'm being punked.

"Why are you looking about like that?" Gabriel drawls, not taking his eyes from the TV.

"Just checking to make sure I hadn't wandered into an alternate reality."