Sweet Possession (15 page)
Authors: Maya Banks
He ignored her and picked up the phone.
Fifteen minutes later, she stepped out of the shower feeling somewhat revived, and after drying herself, she put her hair up in a towel, pulled on one of the big, fluffy robes the hotel provided and padded back into the room to figure out what to wear.
She was back in the bathroom drying her hair and fluffing it out when Connor hollered that the food had arrived. She didn’t have makeup on yet, but she was tempted to go au naturel. She didn’t often go without full treatment, hair, nails, outfit and makeup because she literally never knew when and where she might be photographed.
Today she just wanted to be . . . normal. Unrecognized. Anonymous—and not only because she had some lunatic freaking her out. Okay, so that was the biggest reason, but the other was simply she was looking forward to being around people she could actually be herself with.
She walked back into the hotel room to see Connor putting a dent in the array of food arranged on the serving cart. If she wanted to eat, she needed to wade in and rescue something before he ate it all.
“Do you always eat so much?” she asked once she was cross-legged on the bed, her plate in front of her.
He frowned and stopped chewing for a minute. “I haven’t eaten much in the last couple of days. Been too busy with you.”
Her eyes widened. If he considered what he’d eaten “not much,” she’d hate to see what he considered a normal appetite.
“I bet you ran your parents ragged trying to keep you fed. You probably ate them out of house and home.”
He grinned. “Pop may have complained a time or two.”
Her gaze roved up and down his lean, muscled body and she shook her head. “I don’t know where you put it. I think I hate you.”
“I work out,” he defended. “Not like all I do is sit around and eat.”
She snorted. “Yeah, I bet you work out like once a week. It’s obvious you’re one of these people blessed with good genes.”
“And what about you? You aren’t exactly a delicate miss when it comes to eating and what are you, a size two?”
She nearly choked on her food. Maybe this guy didn’t have as much experience with women as she thought. “I’m a twelve. Sometimes a ten. I’ve been as high as a fourteen. No, nothing huge but not bone-thin either. I have to work hard to keep it under a ten. When I’m on tour I keep my weight down because performing almost every night keeps me fit. But when I’m not on tour and writing songs or in the recording studio, I gain weight just looking at food. I have to have a strict exercise regimen to keep it under control.”
He frowned. “I think you’re pretty damn perfect as you are. You don’t need to be any thinner.”
Then again, maybe he had plenty experience with women, because he sure knew what to say.
“I’m straining the waists of my size twelves right now,” she admitted. “I’m at the end of my tour and the shows are further apart and I’ve been stress-eating. Not the best habit in the world, but there you have it. I have a weakness for salty and sweet. Carbs. I love carbs.”
His eyes narrowed and she could feel his gaze examining her. His frown grew fiercer as he met her eyes. “You look just fine like you are.”
Warm pleasure bathed her cheeks until she was sure she glowed. In her world she was never perfect. She had fitness trainers telling her she needed to shed pounds. Her manager telling her what she could or couldn’t eat. Even her stylist waded in with her opinion and clucked at Lyric whenever her outfits got too tight.
And yet Connor was positively glowering at the idea that she needed to lose weight.
She beamed at him and polished off her breakfast, then chugged down an entire glass of orange juice. She nearly groaned with pleasure. She loved juices but had been forbidden to drink pretty much anything but water.
“Better?” Connor asked when she pushed her plate away.
“Yum. That was fantastic.”
He checked his watch. “You have a few minutes. Micah and the driver are coming up for you. I don’t want you standing around in the lobby where you’re visible while you wait.”
“Okay. I need to brush my teeth.”
She bounced off the bed feeling better than she had in days despite the fact she hadn’t caught up on her sleep. She brushed out her hair one more time and left it loose. Then she cleaned her teeth, gargled with mouthwash and checked her appearance in the mirror.
She wouldn’t stop traffic but she didn’t look all bad. And there was a lightness to her eyes she hadn’t noticed in a long time. She smiled back at her reflection, decided she’d survive being seen without makeup again and then left the bathroom.
Connor was on the phone. He turned and held a finger up to Lyric and then said, “I’ll have her right down.”
She raised an eyebrow as he shoved his cell phone back into his pocket. “I thought they were coming up?”
“Sam is parked at the side employee entrance. We’re going to go out that way. You won’t even be outside a second.”
“And you?”
“I’m going to my office to meet with the security team your label hired. I want to make damn sure they’re competent enough to do the job. I’ll come get you when I’m done. In the meantime, I’m having a few guys come in and clear out your hotel room, so if there’s anything you need, get it now.”
She scooped up her purse, looked to make sure her wallet, sunglasses and phone were still in it and then slung it over her shoulder.
“I’m ready.”
Five minutes later, Connor rushed her into the back of a Bentley and she blinked at the sumptuous leather and the obvious expense of the luxury car. She was a freaking rock star and she didn’t get to ride around in vehicles like these. Any wannabe could hitch a ride in a limo, but these wheels cost some serious cash.
The driver was a broad-shouldered boulder of a man who filled the driver’s seat. The steering wheel looked small in his hands, like it would break off if he turned it too hard. He flicked a glance at her in the rearview mirror but his eyes were covered with dark shades, and his bald head gleamed like he’d just shaved it that morning.
Micah Hudson slid into the backseat next to her and Connor slammed her door. The driver roared off down the side street and pulled into traffic.
“Everything all right?” Micah asked conversationally.
She eyed him warily, not comfortable with the fact that it was he and not Connor who was riding with her.
“Where is Angelina?”
Micah’s eyes narrowed. “No way I’d let her come along. I don’t want her anywhere near potential trouble.”
Lyric shrugged. Like she wanted to be near “potential trouble” either?
A half hour later they drove through the entrance of a sprawling estate. She glanced back to see the heavy security gate swing closed behind them. To her further surprise she caught a glimpse of a big dude who looked suspiciously like he was carrying an automatic rifle. Holy hell, was she at some compound for a crazy cult?
They pulled around the circle drive and parked directly in front of the palatial house. Micah got out and the driver opened her door and hovered protectively over her as he escorted her the few steps to the entrance.
Okay, she liked safety as much as the next person, but this seemed a little . . . overdone. It wasn’t as if she was rolling up to a concert and had thousands of fans all pushing to get a glimpse or a piece of her. There was . . . no one. The grounds were so quiet that she could hear birds chirping.
She was ushered inside the McMansion and the driver took her into the living room where she saw women sprawled all over the furniture.
Lyric relaxed and smiled. She recognized Faith, Julie and, of course, Angelina right away, but there was another woman, long and sleek and so freaking beautiful that she made Lyric take a step back and curse the fact she hadn’t worn makeup. She was tempted to pull the shades over her eyes, not that it would hide the fact she wasn’t even wearing concealer.
To cover up her nervousness, she spread her hands out, palms up, and announced, “I’m here!”
The women turned and Faith shot up from the couch and hurried over to give Lyric a hug. Which was kind of weird but at the same time gave her an honest-to-God warm fuzzy. Lyric was a little shell-shocked as Faith dragged her over to the others.
“You’ve met Julie and Angelina, of course, but you haven’t met Serena Roche yet.”
Tall and elegant, Serena rose from the couch, her long black hair swinging like silk down her back. Lyric couldn’t help but stare. The woman had such an exotic beauty and startling blue eyes to contrast the midnight hair.
She extended her hand and for a moment Lyric just stared at it—and the glittering, huge-ass diamond ring that adorned her third finger.
“I’m so glad to meet you, Lyric.”
“Likewise.”
A tall, extremely handsome man walked into the living room, and when his gaze rested on Serena, he lit up. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out this was her husband, Damon Roche.
He had that rich GQ look. Polished, arrogant and extremely confident. He came up to stand beside Serena, his hand sliding up her back to tangle in her hair.
“Ms. Jones,” he said smoothly. “Welcome to our home. Serena and I are happy to have you.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry to be a bother.”
“You’re no bother. Micah tells me you’ve had some trouble. I can assure you that while you are here, nothing will bother you.”
Strangely enough, she absolutely believed him. He didn’t strike her as a man who made empty boasts. He was too damn self-assured.
“Can I offer you refreshment, Ms. Jones?” Damon asked.
Remembering just how much she’d eaten at breakfast, she shook her head.
“Come sit,” Faith urged. “We have a complete girly day planned. Julie’s even going to give us massages later.”
“I want to know who the hell’s going to give me a massage,” Julie grumbled.
“Oh, hush. You know Nathan will be more than happy to give you one later,” Serena said impishly.
“Not that girly fun isn’t high on my list of priorities, but us menfolk are going to excuse ourselves,” Damon said dryly.
He drew Serena to him and kissed her forehead. There was such a look of possession in his eyes that Lyric shivered. Did every one of these women have a man who absolutely adored her? Lyric had never wanted to stab anyone more in her life. And now she had to spend an afternoon with them, and they’d probably go on and on and
on
about how wonderful their husbands or significant others or whatever the hell they called them were.
on
about how wonderful their husbands or significant others or whatever the hell they called them were.
Damon and Micah departed, talking among themselves, but the driver remained conspicuously behind, taking position in the doorway to the living room.
The women retook their positions and Lyric plopped on the couch next to Angelina, who had her feet curled beneath her and was propped against a pillow.
“When are you due?” Lyric asked as she glanced down at Angelina’s belly.
Angelina grimaced. “I still have three months if you can believe it. I swear I’m ready to burst now.”
Lyric’s eyes widened. Maybe it was because Angelina was so petite but she looked like she’d swallowed enough helium to float a hot-air balloon.
“So tell us what’s going on with this freak who’s stalking you, Lyric,” Julie said.
Lyric sighed. “Well, since my record label didn’t see fit to tell me anything and Connor just informed me day before yesterday, I don’t know a whole lot. Apparently he’s been sending me creepy notes and putting them in places he shouldn’t have access to. Then yesterday he called and left a message on my hotel phone.”
“So what is Connor going to do?” Faith asked anxiously.
Lyric shrugged. “He’s meeting with whatever security firm my label hired, which is why I’m here. Makes more sense for me to be there, but I think Connor is afraid I’ll throw some tantrum.”
Julie eyed her with a glimmer of humor in her eyes. “Would you?”
“Maybe. Depends on what they had to say. Or how brainless they thought I was. And I don’t throw tantrums. I just voice my displeasure in a loud manner.”
Serena and Angelina laughed. And then Serena leaned forward. “I have to admit you look a lot different than I expected. Damon and I saw one of your shows in Vegas. You were so flashy and glamorous.”
Lyric winced and Serena put her hand to her mouth. “Not that you aren’t now. Oh hell. I’ll shut up now.”
Lyric laughed. “I don’t usually go anywhere without full makeup and wardrobe, but Connor seems to think the lower profile I am, the better. I haven’t even colored my hair since my last show. The first time Connor met me, I had pink hair. I don’t think he was impressed.”
Faith snickered and Julie rolled her eyes. “That’s because Connor has a stick up his ass,” Julie retorted.
“Julie, he does not,” Faith defended. “You’re always accusing him of being uptight.”
“Pretty good assessment, I’d say,” Lyric muttered.
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