Slay Me (Rock Gods #1)

Slay Me

Joanna Blake

Copyright © 2014 by Joanna Blake

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may
not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without
the express written permission of the publisher

except
for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed
in the United States of America

First
Printing, 2014

Pincushion
Press

For
Connie

Chapters

One
- Acidly

Two
- Trickily

Three
- Crudely

Four
- Dizzily

Five
- Longingly

Six
- Deeply

Seven
- Fancily

Eight
- Silkily

Nine
- Tenderly

Ten
- Royally

Eleven
- Emptily

Twelve
- Lonely

Thirteen
- Lushly

Fourteen
- Lovely

Fifteen
- Adoringly

One             

             
Sabrina stared at the neat rows of black stilettos. They were all nearly identical black Jimmy Choo’s. She frowned. Didn't she have a gray pair in here somewhere? Hmmm… guess not. She pulled out the newest pair and stepped into them. They were still perfectly shiny, just the way she liked them.

             
She was already dressed in a tight black pencil skirt, sheer black stockings and a white silk blouse. Her uniform, as her coworkers jokingly called it. It didn't bother her though. She didn't like to waste time on things like picking out clothes. It was a distraction from the lessons her parents had drilled into her for as long as she could remember.

             
Work hard.

             
Win.

             
Nothing else really mattered.

             
Besides, the outfit in all it's variations looked good on her. Really good. All her clothes were expensive and impeccably designed. She only wore the best garments, went to the best salon in LA, worked out with the best trainer.

             
Win.

             
She was the youngest in her department at Metro Records as well. It was the best recording company in Los Angeles. No. The world.

             
Win.

             
And now she'd been given her first high profile client. The biggest money maker at the label. Bigger than all the other artists combined.

             
Nick Falcon.

             
She'd grown up on his music, even danced to it at her prom. Well, if you could call awkwardly standing close to someone and swaying dancing. Sabrina didn't date much back then.

             
She didn't date much now either.

             
She was meeting her new client this afternoon for the first time. Drinks at his place. She'd been emailing with his team for weeks now.

             
She was ready.

             
She wasn't even nervous.

             
That was a laugh.

             
She was
terrified.

             
Never mind that this could make or break her career. Never mind that if she lost her job she'd have to go running back home to her father, to the look of disappointment in his eyes. It was much worse than that.

             
The man himself scared her. There was something about him. Something… virile. And wild. The man did whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

             
Throw an impromptu concert on a beach in Ibiza? Check. Marry and divorce three supermodels? Check. Fill his private jet with bubbles just to win a bet? Check.

             
According the tabloids, he'd done all that and more. Most of it just in the last month.

             
Gorgeous, with a face that graced countless magazine covers and stole a hundred thousand hearts. Talented, with a long career and at least ten gold records to his name. Rich beyond imagining, with houses all over the world, including the one she was about to visit in Los Angeles.              Even with all the trappings of wealth, there was something about him that was utterly wild and untamed.

             
Sabrina had a strong suspicion that Nick Falcon was even wilder than he looked.

             
And harder to handle.

             
She squared her shoulders.

             
He'd just have to see things her way.

             
And if he didn't, she'd make him.

**********

              Nick was playing ping pong with his cousin Marley when the doorbell rang. He ignored it. Nick didn't answer his own door. He didn't pour his own milk. Hell, the only thing he really did for himself was wipe his own arse.

             
He probably could find someone to do that for him to. If he wanted to. He seriously considered it for a moment before mentally walking through the process.

             
Nah.

             
God, he was bored.

             
The doorbell rang again.

             
"Jesus Christ! Somebody bloody get the god damned door!"

             
He threw his ping pong racket at the floor, hitting his foot.

             
"Ow! Christ! Where's the damn champagne gone to?"

             
Marley pointed to a table on the far side of the room. Nick walked over to it and swigged directly from the bottle. Then he spat it out, spraying the glass windows that overlooked the pacific ocean.

             
"What is this piss water?"

             
"Uh, looks like Dom Perignon Nick."

             
"I can bloody well read you twat. It tastes disgusting. It's not even cold."

             
He poured the rest of the bottle into a houseplant, an enormous palm that reached nearly to the ceiling.

             
"There you go. Now I can fire the gardener. Look! I'm doing your job for you you cod wallops!"

             
Marley was laughing at him. Marley always laughed when Nick got drunk. That's part of the reason Nick kept the prat around. Other than the whole blood relations business.

             
One of the maids came in. He could never remember their real names but internally he called them Rolly Polly, Beanpole, and Mustache. This was the bigger girl. He smiled at her charmingly. He was never rude to his staff. Everyone else, yes. But he actually respected women who supported their families through hard work and sweat.

             
Just like his dear old mum.

             
"Yes, my dear?"

             
"Ms. Newton is here to see you Mr. Falcon."

             
"Who?"

             
Marley cleared his throat.

             
"It's the new A&R girl from the label mate."

             
Thank god Marley was actually good at something. He kept track of all this shite for Nick. Somebody had to. In return Nick paid him an absurd amount of money and took him everywhere with him. Sometimes, he even got him laid.

             
"Ohhh right. Well, show her into the solarium please."

             
"We're in the solarium."

             
"Right. Show her into the living room. And offer her something to drink if you don't mind."

             
The chubby little maid bobbed her head and left the room.

             
"She's a good girl, that one."

             
"She's new actually Nick."

             
"What? Don't tell me there are two Rolly Polly's now!"

             
Marley was laughing too hard to answer him. Nick leveled a finger at his chest.

             
"You're not drunk enough. Alright, come on and let's get this bloody over with. How the hell do I get to the living room from here?"

             
Marley led the way through the sprawling ultra modern cliffside mansion. Nick had got it last year but this was only the second time he'd been here. After his last tour he'd spent a few months in the French Riviera and then stopped home to see his mum. Then he'd gone somewhere else… oh right, Dubai.

             
That place was so sterilized it had made his brain hurt to look around. Like Vegas without strippers or gambling.

             
Or booze.

             
Where was the fun in that?

             
They walked into an enormous room with floor to ceiling glass door that opened onto a deck. All you could see in here was sea and sky. It was pretty nice actually now that Nick looked around.

             
"Not bad."

             
Marley grinned at him.

             
"Now, where is the bossy twat?"

             
A small gasp greeted him from behind the floating eco gas fireplace in the middle of the room. Damn, the bird must have heard him. He'd have to turn on the charm then, wouldn't he? Maybe then she'd stop sending all the demanding emails and daily phone calls. His old label rep had left him alone more or less. As long as the money kept rolling in, what did they care? Still, he'd better put on a happy face for the harpy.

             
Time to act like a rock star for his adoring public. No woman stood a chance against The Nick Falcon. He'd tried to find one that did once on a whim. Old, young, fit, ugly, even married they all seemed to fall at his feet.

             
And he was expected to service them all with his rock star prowess. Otherwise, his reputation would start to slide. And with that, record sales.

             
It was a bit of a nuisance sometimes if he was honest with himself, which he rarely was.

             
He strode around the fireplace, oozing his public persona. His back was straight but his limbs were fluid. He knew how to work it. He'd better have after all these years.

             
He pictured a hatchet faced middle aged woman with a clipboard. He turned  the corner and froze. A girl was sitting there, looking very young and very nervous. Scratch that. She was
bloody beautiful
. Her long golden hair and high tits were his second impression. After that he saw her long toned legs. But first he saw her face.

             
Jesus.

             
This was his new A&R Rep? She looked straight out of school. But what a school it was.

             
Her dark blue eyes widened as she saw him staring at her. She lifted her chin boldly and stood, her shoulders thrown back. The nervousness was gone. Suddenly, she looked like a CEO.

             
Or a general preparing for war.

             
Not a pushover apparently. He realized he'd been contemplating getting her into bed. Today. Now. This instant.

             
Christ he felt like a teenager.

             
But he wasn't bored all the sudden.

             
Not at all.

             
"Marley would you bring us some champagne out here. Two glasses."

             
His cousin raised an eyebrow at him but he barely noticed. He was too busy mentally undressing the Goddess he saw before him. Now that she was standing, he could really see her body.

             
Sweet Mary and Joseph.

             
Nick had his share of beautiful women of course. Even professionally beautiful ones. But this girl was something else. She was tiny for one thing. Short and sweet, just the perfect little package. And there was something regal in her bearing that reminded him of some of the Lords and Ladies he'd met when he'd been knighted.

             
He felt a little less cocky at the thought. Out classed. But he pushed that aside. What did he have to be nervous about? He was a knight of the bloody realm!

             
But he was nervous, all the same.

             
She stepped forward, extending her hand. No wedding ring. Good.

             
He'd hate to break up someone's marriage. It wouldn't stop him for going for what he wanted but he'd feel at least a small twinge of guilt about it. Or not.

             
His hand closed over her small soft hand and he smiled, oozing charm. She shook his hand firmly and pulled it back just as he was lifting it to his lips.

             
"Mr. Falcon. I'm Sabrina Newton. I'm your new rep."

             
"Yes, that's right. Marley told me about you. What happened to Wendell?"

             
"He died."

             
"Oh god. That's bloody awful. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

             
She raised an eyebrow at him.