Very Twisted Things (Briarcrest Academy #3) (26 page)

“My life had followed a strict plan for five years. Until V.”

—Sebastian Tate

AROUND THREE IN the morning, we collapsed in V’s bed while Tater rested in her basket next to us, grunting and snoring. V did her own fair share of snoring, her body curled into mine. To be honest, I’d have slept much better in my own damn bed, but when it came to V, sleep was not on my list of priorities.

I couldn’t seem to close my eyes anyway, too keyed up about us. I had to figure out a way to get her used to the press, because they would be after us. Sure, we could stay inside all the time, but I didn’t want a life like that.

The sun peeked in through the window, illuminating her face. She looked like a rock and roll angel, her purple hair spilling out over my arm, long lashes resting on pale cheeks. I curved my hand around her hip and inhaled her scent. Rightness filled me.
This
. And for a moment I got a glimpse of what our future might be, countless mornings of us waking up together, nights wrapped in each other’s arms.

She stretched her luscious body and then turned to me, eyes sleepy.

I smoothed the hair out of her face. “I don’t know who snored louder, you or Tater.”

“Ladies don’t snore.”

“My love, you are no lady. Not after the things we did last night.”

“Oh, yeah?” She bit her full lips. “Then what am I? A groupie who bagged the lead singer?”

I kissed my way up her neck, paying special attention to her collarbone. “All you got to know is this …
you’re mine
,” I growled, lifting her leg over my hip, positioning myself to take her. Own her.

I pushed the word
love
out of my head.

I COOKED V breakfast in her huge kitchen while she told me about her parents.

“I didn’t have a normal childhood. I mean, yeah, we were rich, but they didn’t focus on that. So when I moved out here, it was to run away, but in the back of my mind, I was planning the orphanage as a way to honor them. To show them that I could carry on their work in a small way.”

I planted a kiss on her lips. I loved how she thought of others. “I still get goosebumps when I think that we might have been at the orphanage at the same time.”

“Yeah. I met this great kid there. Kevin. You need to play for him. I can tell he’s special.”

She smiled as I slid a cheese omelet to her. I even went to her pantry, found her cheese puffs and sprinkled some on the side. “You can have some of these, but now that I’m here, you need to start eating better.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t give me grief. Her mouth was already stuffed with food.

Spider and Mila showed up at the back door, and I ended up cooking for the entire crew. Even Tater got a piece of bacon.

Spider watched me quizzically as he nibbled on a piece of toast. “What I can’t understand is why you bought her a dog. Isn’t Monster enough of a handful?”

“Practically an engagement ring from a fecking Tate man,” Mila chimed in.

I laughed nervously and glanced at Mila, and maybe it was the ring statement that got to me, but mostly I noticed that Mila didn’t look like herself. Her normal cheerful banter seemed faked and her headband slightly askew. It worried me.

And the day went downhill from there.

Later that morning, I was on my way out the door, back to V’s after my shower, when a messenger dropped off a package from Blair. I stared down at the brown manila envelope.

A script? A love letter? Not likely.

I tore the envelope open and what was there made my heart bang in my chest.

Photos of me and V—photos of me and Blair.

With growing horror, I flipped through pictures obviously taken last night of V playing for me in the nude and us making love. Lastly, there were pictures of me and Blair in my bed—selfie style—taken by Blair as was obvious from the angle from which she’d held her cell phone. The tops of her boobs were visible, and I appeared asleep, my head turned to the side on the pillow.

I pulled out my phone and checked to see if I’d even drunk dialed her that night.

No record of it.

Feeling like I might pass out, I sat down.

A note was taped to one of the selfies.

I jerked up and called her and got nada but her voicemail.

Bitch!
I called again. And again, working myself up to a fever pitch until my head pounded.

Finally, I called Harry’s office to talk to him—anybody—but his secretary said he was out of the office. I lost it. I told her to tell him that his ass was fired. If I could manage my own band, I sure as hell could find my own damn movies.

V.

Had to warn her of the shitstorm that was coming.

I gathered the photos up, my fingers hesitating over the ones of Blair and me.
Fuck!
I dreaded V seeing me with her, but it had to be done. I tucked them under my arm and went to her house. When she didn’t answer the front door, I eased around to the back and went in through the patio, calling her name.

Nothing but silence. Weird.

Hearing the soft rumble of her voice through her bedroom door, I tapped lightly and entered. I found her sitting on her bed. Her head was dripping wet and a towel was wrapped around her. Whoever called her had been important enough to pull her out of the shower.

“I need to talk to you,” I said, my voice tight.

She nodded and held her hand up to indicate “just a minute.”

I exhaled heavily.

“Okay,” she said to the person on the line, putting her back to me as she fished around in her dresser for clothes. She stood and slipped on a pair or red lacy underwear and a tank. “Look, I need to go now. Someone’s here.”

A pause. “Yes, it’s him. We’re together.”

I froze.
Geoff
.

“Thank you …” she said, her voice lower now as she walked out onto her balcony.

“V, get off the phone.” My hands were clenched now, and it wasn’t about the pictures so much as
him
. I didn’t like how soft her voice was … secretive.

She paused mid-sentence but then kept talking, her finger telling me to wait a minute.

I counted the seconds. Seventy-two. I was livid.

She said goodbye and came back in the room.

“Who was that?” I growled.

“Geoff, and before you go caveman on me,
you’re
the one I want to be with. Not him. He knows about us.”

Still hurt to hear her say his fucking name.

“I don’t want you talking to him.”

She reared back. “He’s my friend, the only link I have left to my parents.”

“He’s still in love with you,” I retorted.

Her brows came together. “Don’t jump to conclusions just because he called. You can trust me.”

Heat flushed over me. “We’re together, V. I’m not with anyone else. And if I even suspect you still have feelings—”

She stormed out of the room, headed downstairs.

“Wait,” I called, following her. “Don’t walk out on me.”

She didn’t stop, her shoulders stiff when she finally faced me in the den as I walked over to make sure the blinds were closed. I didn’t want any more photos taken of us.

I tried to rein in my anger. I was irrational when it came to her and Geoff, but it wasn’t something I could control easily. “Talk to me about Geoff. Explain.”

“He called to tell me that he’d turned in my application to the Manhattan School of Music.”

My whole damn world came to a standstill.

Of course she wanted to go back to school. She was getting her life together, figuring out what she wanted.

“You’re leaving?” My tone was incredulous.

“What if I did?” she snapped. “Would you really care? What we’re doing is fun, but we don’t have a commitment. You have your life here, and soon you’ll be on the road or going to a movie set.”

I found I needed air. I sucked in a sharp breath and blew it out. That didn’t help, so I sat down. “What matters is
he
will be near you and I won’t. You have a history with him. Do you think I like imagining you hanging out with him? Rekindling your friendship until it turns into something else? Maybe you get tired of me working on the road, and he’s there, so you find yourself spending more and more time with him? Why can’t you go to school somewhere here in California?”

She groaned. “Why can’t you trust me?”

I jerked up. “I want you
here
with me. I want you beside me, under me, in my bed, and so far up in my business that I can’t fucking move for bumping into you.” My hands fisted, pushing out my next words. I met her gaze, the old festering wound that was at the center of my heart rising up. “If you go to New York, we’re over.”

Silence.

Fuck!
Why had I said that?

“Shit, don’t leave me, V. Not-not when I just found you.”

She shook her head. “What does it matter? You’ll find another girl.”

Her words cut me, and I looked down at the photos. This would ensure she’d leave me.

“We have worse problems, V. Blair’s got photos of us.”