Seduction by Song Page 12

  “How’ve you two lovebirds been holding up?” she asks as she slings an arm over my shoulders.

  I roll my eyes, but can’t keep a slight blush and a tiny smile from appearing on my face. “Oh, shush. It’s not like we can’t keep our hands off of each other.

  Our eyes, on the other hand…

  April laughs as she sees that my mind is already wandering to Romeo again. “Sweetheart, don’t front. You know I can see right through you.”

  I nudge her a little, playfully. “Don’t tease!”

  “Okay, okay,” she says, relenting. “In all seriousness, Erin—I’m really happy for you.”

  My cheeks flush with a familiar warmth, but it’s more of a pleasant blush than a faintly embarrassed blush this time. April has never been the type of girl to talk about feelings—whether they’re her own feelings or someone else’s. She’s happy to listen, but it’s a rare day that she says anything aside from, “Get a room!” to happy couples and “Shots!” as a solution to broken hearts.

  I pull back a little to smile at her. “Thank you, April. That means a lot to me.”

  She’s smiling, too, until her eyes are drawn to something just over my shoulder. Her expression instantly drops into a frown. When I turn, I see exactly what’s put her off.

  While Maddie and Juliet took a break from their seats in the front row, two strangers—a man and a woman—had taken the opportunity to approach us. I didn’t recognize either of them, but I knew from the badge that the man was wearing that he was a media correspondent.

  “Miss Gouchet,” he says, his voice positively oozing with sleaze. I tell myself not to shiver, but I’m not sure if I stop myself in time. He doesn’t look offended by my negative reaction to him—in fact, he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. Was creeping people out his job or something?

  April links our arms together, keeping me close. “It’s Ms. Gouchet, thanks very much, and those seats are taken.”

  The woman pushes her partner back a little, stepping forward to offer me a smile and her hand. Her eyes are a bit kinder, but I notice that she’s wearing the same badge as the man. I don’t let my guard down and I definitely don’t take her hand—though I do, admittedly, feel a bit bad about it when she looks hurt by my rejection.

  “Hi, Erin,” she says with hints of caution lacing her voice. “I was hoping to get just a moment of your time. You’re a media sensation, you know?”

  Despite her kind tone, I feel sick to my stomach as they stand there watching me like I’m some sort of sideshow freak. They don’t do anything to hide their interest in me and they’re obviously only interested because of my relationship with Romeo and—and I just didn’t know how I felt about that.

  I wouldn’t deny that I loved being the center of attention, that I loved being seen. I wasn’t an attention whore, of course, but the thrill of performing in high school talent shows or open mic nights at university was always enough to have me smiling for the rest of the night. I liked earning attention, and the attention these reporters were showering upon me now didn’t feel earned at all. I didn’t want attention just because of who I spend the night with, of who I had a relationship with.

  Hell, I wasn’t even sure if I had a relationship. Romeo made it clear that he was interested, but I knew better than to read into his romantic gestures—for all I knew, he just wanted a fling or a short term dating arrangement.

  “I’m sorry,” I say when I finally work up the nerve. “I have nothing to say at this time.”

  There. Polite, but firm. I could practically feel April radiating pride next to me. She knew how tough it was for me to stand up to people and say no to them.

  The woman looks even more disappointed and her partner tsks as he rolls his eyes.

  “Knew it,” he says. “All these whores like playing hard to get. It keeps them in the spotlight longer. Isn’t that right, sweet cheeks?”

  April growls. “Hey, step off. You want me to get security over here?”

  “Come on,” the man says, jerking his shoulder back towards the aisle. “We’re wasting our time. I think I saw Justin Bieber’s publicist back there.”

  The woman flashes us an apologetic look as she takes a step back. I’m hit with another wave of guilt—she looks like a genuinely nice person and if I didn’t think talking to her would be a huge breach of Romeo’s privacy as well as my own, I probably would have offered to answer at least a few of her questions.

  Just before she goes, she leans in close again to say, “I heard about that—unpleasant email you received. You should watch your back.”

  She smiles, bright and cheery, and disappears into the crowd.

  The guilt I had been feeling fades immediately, replaced by ice in my veins. I hadn’t told anyone about that email. There was no way she could know about it unless—.

  I bite back a frightened gasp. No. It couldn’t possibly her that said those horrible things to me.

  “You okay, Erin?” April asks when she notices me spacing out.

  I breathe a sigh of relief. At least she hadn’t heard what the woman said. The last thing I needed was for my friends to freak out now. Knowing them, they’d probably lock me up somewhere safe and never let me leave the house again.

  “Just fine,” I say. It’s a lie, and I hate lying to my friends, but it’s for their own good. The less they knew about that horrible email, the less involved they would be. Even though I had already decided to just consider it a prank, I knew there was a chance that someone truly dangerous at the other end of that email—and I just don’t know what I’d do if I ever put my friends in danger.

  April doesn’t seem to believe me, but Maddie and Juliet return. Seconds later, the lights are dimming and the Rocks come out once more. April doesn’t get the chance to grill me until I crack and, for that, I’m grateful.

  Romeo locks eyes with me again, melting all my worries away. That, too, is something I’m eternally grateful for—I realize then and there that he’s the only reason I’ve made it through this day.

  Once in a while, I feel eyes on me during the short breaks for breath Romeo takes between his songs. The feeling makes me anxious and afraid in a way few things do, but I ignore it as best as I can. After all, it’s Romeo up there. I was truly addicted to watching him perform now and I wanted to soak in every minute of it.

  As the time for “Why I Need Your Love” approaches, I feel the air in the stadium crackling with electricity. The energy of this crowd is, for the most part, a positive one. Romeo has a way of infusing his audiences with a powerful passion that leaves them chanting and raving for him. His eyes begin to sweep across the front row, leaving me with a sharp pang of jealousy and a dull ache of loneliness.

  Of course he wouldn’t choose me again. I hadn’t really expected him to. What kind of message would that send to his fans, after all? Hundreds of girls bought these pricey seats just for a chance to be chosen by Romeo at the end of the show. If he were to choose the same girl night after night, no one else would have any hope of being chosen anymore. I doubt it would put a serious dent in his character, but I don’t want to contribute to his work suffering in the slightest bit.

  I let a smile return to my face. When Romeo catches my eyes with his again, I tilt my head towards Maddie to try and sway him towards her. If someone had to be up there, it may as well be one of my best friends—I might not even have to suffer through these ridiculous waves of jealousy if it were Maddie.

  Romeo, however, doesn’t look where I try to point him. He keeps our eyes locked together for a long, heated moment until the song he’s currently singing stops. There’s a few seconds’ pause before the next song begins, the opening chords of “Why I Need Your Love” ringing out throughout the stadium.

  As the cheers of the crowd grow to deafening levels, Romeo holds his hand out to me. I stare at him, frozen to the spot. Was he really asking me to join him a second time? I feel my heart swell with affection for him. I want nothing more than to go up there, to experience t
his once in a lifetime experience for a second time.

  But I don’t move, except to shake my head. He had to choose someone else—it would be the professional thing to do. I try to nudge Maddie up since she was standing right next to me, but the girls know exactly where Romeo is looking and they all cheer me on. They’re pushing me forward. Then, suddenly, I’m past the rail and being escorted up to the stage once more. It’s a completely different stage, but my heart pounds just like it did the night before.

  I try to protest, but it’s already too late. My legs are carrying me across the stage, my body gravitating towards Romeo as he keeps his hand held out to me. Then he has me in his arms and I have my arms around his shoulders, unable to resist the instinct to grab onto him and never let go.

  “Welcome back, Erin,” he says. He whispers the words to me, but his microphone picks it up and blares the sweet breath of endearment throughout the stadium.

  As we begin to sway to the music, the crowd roars. There are cheers and screams of encouragement as he tips my head back to kiss me at the end of the song, as deeply and as passionately as he did last night.

  I’m so swept up in the sensation of it that I barely hear the noise surrounding us, but at the back of my head, I could swear I hear the screams turning furious—threatening.

  When I shiver, it’s only in part because of the way Romeo’s hands warm my body. The other part, whether I’ll admit it or not, is fear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  This time, Romeo lets go of me without a fight—but not without a promise. His tongue licks that oath into my mouth. The promise of passion, of lust, of more. When I’m escorted offstage, I find myself being led backstage immediately. By the time I realize that we’re not headed back to my seat, we’re already in the rest area for the band where their spare equipment is scattered around the floor.

  Too dumbstruck by the evening to protest it, I make myself at home on the couch and wait. Although I can’t see Romeo from here—which may be a blessing in disguise since I can never think straight with that man near me—I can still hear him crooning the last songs into his microphone.

  I close my eyes and let the words of his music wash over me, calming my nerves.

  Don’t be a child, Erin. You’re just overreacting, I tell myself. No one is out to get you.

  No one is out to get me.

  Even as I think the words, I start to doubt them. The email, the screaming crowd, and the twinkle in that woman’s eye—I thought it was kind, at first, but now in my memory it turns into something malicious. All these things swirl around in my head in a cacophony of terror.

  I breathe in deep and refocus my thoughts on the sound of the music out there. Romeo will protect me.

  And that is something I don’t doubt for even a second.

  Tension immediately begins to seep away from my shoulders. I imagine Romeo wrapping his arms around me, holding me closer and whispering those sweet nothings of his against my ear as he draws me into his lap and covers my mouth with his own.

  It’s more than enough to relax my nerves. Focusing only on those thoughts, I allow myself to enjoy the rest of the show.

  I must doze off at some point, because the next time I open my eyes, backstage is flooded by roadies moving equipment and girls with all-access passes swarming the area. There’s an arm on mine, pulling me up gently. I have to blink a few times to clear my vision before I make out the shape of Romeo leading me away from the commotion.

  “Come,” he says when he notices my eyes on him.

  I open my mouth to ask where we’re going, but he flashes me that promising grin of his as though telling me to wait for a surprise. I hate most surprises (with the exception of the surprise parties the girls and I throw for each other’s’ birthdays, of course), but there’s something about the promise lurking in his eyes that makes me trust him.

  He pulls me along through the back until I’m not sure where we are. I see the remnants of the audience in the distance, but they’re not following us—no one seems to be following us. That realization is more relieving than I thought it would be.

  “Did I miss your encore?” I ask, the desire to speak and to hear him speak finally overwhelming my silence.

  He nods, but doesn’t seem bothered by it. “I told the guys not to bother you during our break when I noticed you were resting. You aren’t too tired for me tonight, are you?”

  There’s a charm in his voice that tells me he doesn’t mean it as a question at all, but I laugh and shake my head anyway.

  “Too tired for you? Never.” I squeeze his hand as he pulls me down into one of the secluded tunnels leading away from the stadium, walking a bit faster to keep up with his pace.

  He stops as soon as we’re safely hidden in the shadows, spinning me around me to press me up against the wall. The concrete structure is cool against my back, especially where my shoulders are left bare by the thin-strapped tank top I’m wearing.

  The cold doesn’t stay with me for long, though. Warmth floods my entire body as he ducks down to claim my mouth in a kiss, biting at my lips and licking at my tongue. The kiss we shared on stage was as passionate a kiss as I’d ever had, but this was so much more. I wrap my arms around him and drag him down closer, hating that our clothes separated us like this.

  “God, Erin—do you have any idea how much I missed you?” he asks, breathing hard against my mouth as he runs his hands down my sides. “My hands ached for this tight little body of yours. I could barely grip my mic tonight.”

  I shiver at the words, heat pooling in my cheeks as I shift back to grin at him. “You’ve got your hands on me now, cowboy. What’re you going to do?”

  The line comes out smoother than I expect it to. I’ve never been a pro at flirty talk like this, especially when I wasn’t backed up by my girlfriends, but it seems to have an immediate and profound effect on Romeo. His eyes darken with lust and he drags me up to kiss me again, hard and needy.

  “Not here,” he says, breaking off the kiss with a low growl. He takes my hand again and begins to pull me deeper down the tunnel we’d entered. “They could find us here.”

  The arousal that had been pooling in my stomach disappears instantly as my eyes go wide. “They? What—is someone looking for us?”

  He must sense the fear that creeps into my voice because he stops again, letting go of me to cup his hands around my cheeks. I can barely see him in the dim lighting of the tunnel, but he catches my gaze and holds it until I start to calm down.

  “Just the press, don’t worry. They’re nothing to be scared of. I do wish they didn’t find out about us so quickly.” He sighs, regret lacing his breath. “I would have loved to take you right there on the couch backstage, but those vultures were already swarming.”

  “They won’t hurt us, right?” I ask, keeping my voice low and feeling silly for voicing my worries.

  Romeo smiles and shakes his head. “Those idiots? I can take care of them.”

  Although I get the feeling that it won’t be as simple as he thinks it is, I trust him for at least this moment and take his hands again.

  “Lead on, then,” I say.

  We continue down the tunnel, taking a few turns to lose any potential stalkers, until we finally come across a golf cart. Romeo feels around the driver’s side until he finds the keys. I suspect this isn’t his golf cart, but a short joyride at this time of night couldn’t possibly hurt—no one would miss this. Feeling like I was in high school again, breaking out of our parents’ house after midnight to meet under moonlight, I giggle as I climb in next to Romeo.

  “Something funny?” he asks, his own voice laced with mirth as he starts the vehicle.

  I look over at him and burst into laughter again. Romeo Ortiz, the rock star, was the kind of guy that was always photographed behind the wheel of the newest Ferrari or Lamborghini. I never expected to see him driving a golf cart.

  He laughs when I explain what a strange sight this is, speeding up a little. “Golf carts are plenty g
lamorous! I drove them all the time back in the day when I worked at the golf course back home.”

  I make a non-committal sound, just to tease him.

  He seems to know that that’s my only intent, because his grin doesn’t falter. “What, you don’t think it’s manly enough?”

  “Ehh,” I say, egging him on.

  “Oh, I’ll show you manly, chica,” he says.

  We both laugh. The road beneath our wheels turns to dirt. When I look around us, I see that we’re driving through some sort of park now. I’m not entirely sure where we are—Tampa’s not far from home, but I don’t usually have a reason to come up here—but I try to stay quiet and patient in anticipation for Romeo’s surprise.

  To pass the time, I think back on what he’d said mere moments ago and ask, “You worked at a golf course?”

  “My life hasn’t always been rock and roll, as I think I briefly mentioned before,” he says. He doesn’t sound exactly bitter about that, but it’s definitely comes out sounding rather bittersweet. I wait for him to continue, and he does after a breath. “I had a few jobs in high school, just to get by. The golf course didn’t pay so well, but sometimes I would get a huge tip.”

  I blink in surprise, trying to imaging working a few jobs in high school. I knew a lot of kids had to work to help out in their families, but I only every babysat some friends’ younger siblings a few nights a month. It wasn’t that my family was rich, but I was virtually their only child—Logan was ten years older than me and had moved out by the time I was a teenager. So my parents pampered me and told me I didn’t need to find a job until college, wanting me to enjoy my youth instead of being laden down by work.

  Looking over at Romeo, I see his shoulders tense a bit as though just thinking of those years stressed him out. I smooth a hand over his shoulders, trying to relax him.

  “You must have worked hard to get where you are,” I say.