Passionate Addiction (17 page)

“Fine. I’ll get it, but let me try the cream one on first.”

“I’ll get it for you.” Leah strode away.

“Blake is going to flip when he sees you in this,” Alana’s eyes gleamed. “You guys are so great together. He’s so sweet and funny and passionate.”

An unwanted weight of jealousy settled on Gabi’s shoulders. The “sweet” and “funny” she could handle, but “passionate” spoke of intimacy. An intimacy Gabi didn’t want to know about. Her insecurities must have shown in her expression because Alana stiffened and her throat convulsed with a swallow.

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” The top of Alana’s cheeks darkened.

Gabi didn’t want to ask. She shouldn’t ask. Her heart couldn’t handle her asking. “Have you…two…umm.”

Awkward didn’t come close to describing the air between them, but she needed to know the answer. No other man had made this uncomfortable nagging sensation crawl under her skin. Or she’d never cared enough for anyone to be affected by it.

Alana glanced away, her gaze searching for Leah.

“You have.” The words staggered from Gabi’s mouth. The apprehension in her stomach turned to lead, and she sucked air into her lungs to fight off the evilness trying to take over. Alana was beautiful, probably the sweetest person Gabi had ever met…and funny. The perfect package. It didn’t matter that her love for Mitch was evident in the way she spoke about him, or that Gabi trusted Blake without question. It was simply unjustified insecurity.

“I’m sorry.” Gabi shook her head, needing to dislodge the stupidity. She didn’t
do
jealousy. She never had, and it wasn’t time to start now. “It’s none of my business.”

“No, we haven’t… I haven’t… There was this one time—”

Gabi held up her hands in the universal please-don’t-fucking-go-there sign and backed into the fitting room. “Seriously, none of my business.” And it wasn’t. What Blake did before they hooked up had nothing to do with her.

She pulled the curtain closed on Alana’s pained expression and leaned back against the wall.
Get control of your hormones, woman!
She had no right to be upset over this.

Seconds later the curtain yanked open and Leah stood in the doorway, brows downcast. “What’s going on?” She placed the cream evening gown on the wall hook and stepped back, her gaze darting between Gabi and Alana.

“Nothing.” Gabi shook her head, embarrassment warming her cheeks. This was ridiculous.

Alana stepped forward, her eyes soft with apology. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“About?” Leah asked.

Alana looked straight at Gabi. “Blake has been present on one occasion when Mitchell and I…”

Leah cleared her throat, smothering a laugh, and Alana shot her a filthy glance.

“He watched…” Alana continued.

Curiosity had Gabi asking questions when she should’ve kept her mouth shut. “He watched?” A giggle broke the awkwardness. Her giggle. “I can’t imagine Blake just watching.”

Alana’s throat convulsed. “Well, he kept himself…busy, I suppose you could say.”

Leah snorted. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

“As I was saying, he enjoyed himself, while Mitchell and I…”

“Fucked,” Leah blurted. “For god sake, woman, spit it out!”

Alana crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin. “Fine. We were
fucking
while Blake watched.” She turned her attention back to Gabi. “But he’s never touched me in a sexual way. Ever. I promise you. Mitchell is too possessive to allow it.”

Obviously not possessive enough to stop someone else from watching. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming.” From her experiences between the sheets with Blake, he didn’t seem restrained enough to simply watch. He was sexual and voracious and eager. She couldn’t picture him not being in charge.

Leah sniggered. “I bet Alana did.”

Gabi laughed without thought, and then winced. She had so much to learn about the rock star lifestyle.

“Don’t worry.” Leah squeezed her upper arm. “The Reckless guys aren’t really into the twenty-four-seven sexathon anymore. I know Sean and Mason share women every now and again, but they’re timid in comparison to some of the bands I’ve represented.

They get a lot of offers and when single, they do enjoy their playboy ways. I’m sure all of them are capable of monogamy, though. Well, maybe not Mason. I’m still undecided on whether that boy can keep his dick in his pants for longer than it takes to play a full set.”

Alana stepped forward and leaned against the fitting room wall. “Blake loves you, and he’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“I know,” Gabi replied, focusing her attention on the evening dress. Trust wasn’t the issue. It was plain stupidity. Nothing more. “I was shocked, that’s all.” She smiled, trying to show her apology. “Sorry for worrying you.”

Alana pushed from the wall and embraced Gabi in a hug. “OK. It’s all finished and forgotten.” She pulled back. “Now all we have to do is convince you to let Blake buy this gorgeous dress.”

***

Blake sat in a sofa chair, staring out the window. He’d spent an hour with the guys, under heavy security guard, organizing tuxedos for them to wear tonight.

An hour.

The women had been gone for three and still they weren’t back. Five men fitted and sorted in one hour. Three women who would look flawless no matter what they wore and three hours wasn’t enough.

His cell buzzed in his pocket. Again. This time it was short and sharp, announcing a text message. His heart played giddy-up thinking it might be Gabi until he remembered the voice message Michelle left earlier today and dread entered the mix. He only listened to the first frantic words of “Blake I need—” before he deleted the message, but it still made him skittish to check his own fucking phone. He needed to change his number.

He was sick to death of changing his number.

Praying for another picture update from Leah, he unlocked his screen and opened the message. His stomach hollowed and his legs would’ve buckled if he’d been standing.

This definitely wasn’t an update from Leah. Nope. This came from a private number and without reading the text underneath the image, he knew it came from Michelle.

He stared at the picture of himself, his throat tightening with every passing second. The secrets of his past were on the screen before him. He was on his knees before a glass table lined with white powder, shirtless, his pupils dilated and crazy as his hand sat at the corner of his nose about to wipe away the coke lining his nostrils.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

You have two options. Either help me or I will have to sell this image along with many more to the tabloids. I’m sorry, Blake, I really need the money.

His brain packed up and left the building, leaving him in a shaking, panicked mess. Leah would kill him. Mason would boot him from the band—if their record label didn’t do it first. Mitch would look at him with disappointment and disapproval, and Gabi…
Oh, fuck
. He was going to lose Gabi during the tabloid manhunt.

What do you want from me?
His hands trembled as he typed the message and pressed send. Maybe if he paid her off she would leave him alone.

Christ. He pushed from his chair and began to pace. He wasn’t that naive. Michelle must be desperate if she was willing to blackmail him in the early hours of the US morning. He’d bargain, he’d beg, he’d do whatever he had to in the effort to destroy those pictures.

He released a derisive laugh and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to alleviate the ache. Yeah, bargain with a determined drug addict who had every fucking ball in her court. Michelle had nothing to lose. No money, a tattered career, her reputation was in the gutter, and her billionaire father wanted nothing to do with her.

A noise sounded at the front of the suite, sending a thousand volts through his heart.
Fuck
. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and turned his attention to the hall, listening as the door opened. Gabi’s heels clicked on the tile, and he breathed like a woman in labor, trying to calm himself until she came into view.

He couldn’t tell her. Not now. Not so close to the anniversary of her brother’s death.

“Hello, stranger.” She beamed at him, dumping her bags on the lounge before sauntering toward him. “Did you miss me?”

He ignored the way his chest throbbed and shoved his cell into his pocket, bridging the distance between them in two steps.

“What’s wrong?” She placed her hands on his chest and studied his face.

“I missed you.” He kissed her, hard, stopping her from scrutinizing him further. His chest weighed heavy with regret while their tongues tangled and her hands came around his neck. He held her close, battling the guilt that overwhelmed him, knowing he was going to hurt her, worry her, no matter how this ended.

She pulled back and stared into his eyes. “Is everything all right?”

“Sure is. Let me see your dress.” He made a grab for the bags on the couch, needing to place distance between them.

“Hey!” She swatted him away. “You aren’t allowed to see until tonight.” Grabbing the bags, she clutched them to her chest and strode to the bedroom. “What time is dinner so I know when to start getting ready?”

He breathed a silent sigh of relief and glanced at his watch. “We have an hour or so.”

“What?” She turned on her heel. “An hour? I thought we were going for dinner. It’s only four-thirty.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he closed his eyes for a brief second to pray that it was a message from Leah or Mitch or even Mason. “Mitch has a surprise planned for Alana tonight.”

Gabi gasped and began walking back toward him with a spring in her step. “What is it?” Her eyes were alight with anticipation.

“He’s going to propose.”

She squealed and bounced on her toes. The reaction was so girlie and cute that for a split second his troubles vanished.

“How’s he going to do it? At dinner? Are we all going to be there?”

He shook his head. “No and yes, that’s why we need to get ready early. We’re taking a scenic helicopter flight down the coast. Then having dinner at a private property overlooking the ocean.”

Gabi’s eyes widened, and she pulled a teeth-clenching expression of excitement that made him chuckle. “I better get ready.” She reached on the pads of her feet to place a smacking kiss on his lips and bounced from the room.

When the shower started, he released the breath tightening his chest, and then remembered the unread message on his phone. He retrieved the cell from his pocket, his stomach turning in dread.

I need money and help to get me out of the slump I’m in. Call me.

She listed a number at the bottom of the message.

At least she was an optimist. He would consider her problems far from a “slump”. More like a permanent vacation in the gutter. Her outlook could only work in his favor. If she was delusional, maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. He could give her the money and convince her to hand over the photos or sign a legal agreement to have them permanently deleted.

“Fuck!” He clenched his fists. He would never truly know what she’d done with the images, no matter what agreement he made her sign.

He bowed his head. Again he was on his own. No one to turn to. No one to rely on. And this time he was determined to keep Gabi out of it. He wouldn’t hurt her with this, and besides, no woman could ever respect a man she had to keep saving. It was time to fix this once and for all—on his own.

Striding into the bedroom, he yanked his suit from the closet and grabbed his shoes. He needed space to think and a quiet place where he could call Michelle without being overheard. With a deep breath, he opened the bathroom door and paused. Gabi stood under the shower spray, her flawless curves glistening from the overhead lights.

She turned with a grin. “Are you joining me again?”

He shook his head when words failed him. It was a sign—having Michelle contact him now. A sign that Gabi was above his worth and didn’t need to be dragged into his crap.

“I wish, angel.” He smiled, hoping to curb her intuition until he left. “I’m going to get dressed, then step out for a while. I’ve got a few things I need to organize before tonight.” It was the truth. He needed to organize the gigantic mess called—his life.

“Oh.” Her brow furrowed. “OK. When will you be back?”

“I shouldn’t be too long.” He clutched the door handle, hating himself for hiding things from her. “When you’re ready, send me a message, and I’ll come get you.”

“No worries.” She nodded slowly. “Are you sure everything’s all right?”

He turned to leave the room, needing to shield his face from her gaze. “Yeah. Everything’s going to be fine.”

A knife sliced through his chest, knowing he just lied to the woman he loved.
Everything
wouldn’t be fine. In fact, his mind kept chanting that this was the beginning of the end.

Blake sat on a lounge chair in the far corner of the empty VIP room on the third floor of the hotel, staring blankly at Michelle’s phone number on his cell screen. He’d been doing the same thing for the last fifteen minutes, unable to connect the call.