The past three days I’ve been working with Emily have been surreal. I’ve learned so much about the industry and have used some of my university studies. Emily took me under her wing, and even though I’m technically her assistant, she treats me as her equal. She even allowed me to write up the press release about the band's upcoming concert in Los Angeles.
For the most part, I’ve only seen Slater in passing. He’s too preoccupied by other stuff to pay me any attention. But today, I felt his intense, heated gaze scanning my body. I smiled at him and waved. He didn’t wave back. When the blond on his right did, my eyes snapped back to Emily. The blond is cute. His body type is similar to Slater’s, a well-formed muscular physique, and his lips would put Mick Jagger’s to shame, but I’m not looking for a relationship, let alone one with a guy who looks like he wants to eat me alive.
As we pace toward the dressing rooms, Emily continues giving me a rundown on the routine she enforces on concert days. Before going on stage tomorrow, the band will talk to the press backstage. They’ll then complete a two-hour gig after their supporting act Big Halo finishes their half-hour set. The band then has a one-hour break to recuperate before the fan meet and greet. She explains how the fans will line up at the side of the stage, and how I’ll be responsible for ensuring only the backstage pass holders are given access past that point.
“Don’t panic; you’ll have two security guys with you at all times,” she assures me when she notices the concerned expression on my face.
I was in the process of working out how I’d stop Rise Up’s persistent fans from barging past me, so her assurance was perfect timing.
When Emily notices the relieved look on my face, she giggles. “The fans aren’t the ones you need to worry about.” She screws up her pointed nose. “It’s the groupies who are the most trouble.”
I laugh when she gags, but it’s pushed aside for a dramaticawwwhen I follow her into Noah’s dressing room. Noah is asleep on a large sofa in the middle of the room, and their daughter Maddie is snuggled on his chest, her snores barely audible.
Maddie is only eleven months old, but there’s no stopping her. She can already walk and has the band members and their crew tightly wrapped around her little finger. Emily and Noah travel with a nanny, but they’re very hands-on parents to their adorable little girl. I’ve seen Maddie more with them than her nanny the past three days, or should I call him a “manny,” since he’s a male nanny?
Noah’s eyes pop open the instant Emily paces toward him. His lips curl into his panty-dropping smile when she gently removes Maddie from his chest to place her in her crib next to the sofa. Once Maddie snuggles into her stuffed bunny, Noah pulls Emily down until she’s straddling his lap.
When I quickly—and a little awkwardly—avert my eyes, Noah chuckles. “I’m going to… umm… go!”
I dash out of their room like my backside is on fire, closing the door behind me. I learned pretty fast the past three days that the entertainment industry is different than a standard nine-to-five job. Here, there’s no real routine. If Emily needs me, she texts me. Other than that, I have plenty of free time.
Most of my work is done while the band performs. I’ll set up the press room, the meet and greet area, then make sure the dressing rooms are supplied with anything the band members request. I was surprised when Emily handed me a list of their requirements. Most were the standard stuff you’d expect any rock star to want: bottles of water, snacks, and diapers, but one list was more extravagant. Some of the items listed I hadn’t heard of before.
Realizing I most likely have some time before Emily needs me again, I go ask Marcus what the items on his list are, then I can ensure they’ll be delivered before he goes on stage tomorrow night.
Upon entering Marcus’s dressing room, I hear a shower running in the bathroom. “Would you like me to come back later?” I just averted my eyes from one uncomfortable situation; I really don’t want another one if he has someone in the shower waiting for him.
Marcus smiles a heart-fluttering grin before gesturing for me to sit on a blue chair in the corner of the room. “No it’s fine. What do you need?”
I pace toward the chair. “Emily gave me the list of supplies you require before tomorrow night. There are a few items I haven’t heard of before.”
Marcus stops rifling through sheet music so he can give me a curious stare, only stopping when the shower faucet turns off. “What items haven’t you heard of before?” he asks, his voice deeper than it was previously.
Just as I’m about to read the first item off the list, Slater strolls into the room wearing nothing but a teeny tiny towel. My pussy tingles as I drink in every inch of his god-crafted body. When a droplet of water rolls over his tattooed torso before careening down his impressive V muscle, I eyeball it with envy. Who knew a blob of water could cause such a vehement, jealous response?
Slater’s eyes lock with Marcus, his chin jerking up. “Me and you, strip club tonight.”
I hope he’s unaware I’m in the room—because those words ripped my heart to shreds.
When Marcus’s eyes dart to mine, I avert my gaze, pretending to scrutinize the document in front of me. I don’t need to look up to know Slater has realized he has company. I can feel his intense gaze burning into me.
“Be ready by ten,” he instructs Marcus before dropping the towel off his hips, like I’m not even in the room.
I don’t care if you're one hundred years old and have one foot in the grave, when you have a male specimen like Slater standing in front of you naked, you're going to look. Even if he isn’t your type, you're going to look, and my eyes do what any other eyes would do in this situation: they look, and they devour every delicious inch of him.
“Unless there’s someone here willing to give me some action for free?”
As my inner vixen screams, “Me, me, pick me!” at the top of her lungs, I lift my eyes to Slater, taking in the scrumptious parts of his body I missed during my first hundred scans. He sees something in my eyes I hoped he wouldn’t see. He sees my every want, need, and desire, and how they’re all focused on him.
“Not good enough to say goodbye to, but good enough to fuck, eh?”
There’s the cold bucket of water I needed to dampen my rampant horniness. My eyes shoot down to the document in my hand as my stomach churns.
“Be in the limo by ten, Marcus, or I’ll come and find you.”
Slater walks back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I jump out of my skin when its loud bang ricochets throughout the room. While I suck in numerous big breaths, Marcus moves across the room and crouches down in front of me, but no words escape his lips. What could he possibly say? I’m sure he knows what I did to Slater, and I’m sure it looks like I’m a gold-digging whore who’s only turning up now because he’s famous, but that isn’t the case. I fell in love with Slater before he was famous, and I left him just as his infamy started to rise. If I only wanted him for his money, wouldn’t I have stayed back then?
“I’ll take care of this.” Marcus removes the paper from my hand before standing. “Why don’t you have an early night? I’ll let Emily know you’re at the hotel if she needs you.”
