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Chapter 21
Georgina
Reed leads me down a hallway into an empty dressing room, where he closes the door and guides me to a couch. “I can’t do it anymore,” he blurts. “I can’t hide that you’re mine and I’m yours. I want everyone, especially my artists, to know it.”
I exhale with relief. “Oh, God. I thought it was something serious.”
He pulls on me roughly, animalistically, sending arousal whooshing between my legs, and guides me to straddle him on the couch. “I want to shout from the highest rooftops, ‘She’s mine!’ I know you don’t want my artists to know, but I—”
“Go for it,” I say, and Reed’s face ignites. “I don’t want to hide our relationship, either. If someone thinks I’m too young for you, or they don’t take me seriously as a writer because they think you pulled strings—screw ‘em. Ciao, stronzo.”
Reed crushes his mouth to mine, and we kiss passionately. Until, soon, predictably, we’re both on fire. Making out energetically. Groping. Grinding. Devouring. You know. Being us.
Reed pulls my shirt up and deftly unlatches my bra. With a growl of arousal, he buries his face in my breasts and sucks on my nipple, making me moan—
“Oh, no!” a female voice blurts in the doorway, making me leap off Reed onto the couch and scramble to cover myself.
“Don’t leave, little PA,” Reed says calmly. “I want to speak to you about this.”
And that’s when I see her. The same PA from the Rose Bowl. Standing in the doorway, her ashen face turned away.
“I didn’t see anything, Mr. Rivers!” she shouts. “Not a thing!”
“You can go,” I say. “I’m sorry you had to see this again.”
“No, you may not go,” Reed corrects firmly. “Come here. Miss Ricci’s got her shirt on now. I want to speak to you.”
“Reed,” I chastise. “Let her go.”
“Not a chance. Come here, little PA. Right now.”
With a loud sigh, the poor PA drags herself across the room like a shackled prisoner and stands before us, her brow furrowed with anxiety. “I didn’t see anything except two people having a conversation.”
Oh, man, Reed is smiling like a possum with a sweet potato. Obviously, he’s loving this. “What’s your name, again?” he asks, his dark eyes glinting with the purest form of glee.
“Amy O’Brien. Mr. Rivers, I don’t know how this happened again. There must have been a mix-up. Owen told me to come in here, right away, to talk to you. He said you texted him that you needed to see me urgently. In this dressing room.”
Full understanding of Reed’s wickedness slams me upside the head. I swat Reed’s broad shoulder. “Reed Rivers! You’re evil!”
He bites back a smile and calmly addresses Amy. “Remember that time at the Rose Bowl, when you thought you saw Miss Ricci and me doing something in a dressing room, but you were mistaken, because we were only talking?”
“Yes, sir. I didn’t say a word to C-Bomb or anyone else about—”
“Yes, I know. I believe you. I want to remind you that you’re still bound by your NDA with respect to that incident.”
“Yes, sir. Same as now.”
“No, not the same as now,” he says, shocking me. “I mean, you are bound by your NDA, of course. But I’m giving you special permission to talk about what you just saw. In fact, I want you to talk about what you saw, just now, to anyone and everyone on this tour. Especially C-Bomb.”
I inhale sharply, floored by Reed’s diabolical machinations. But I must admit, I’m holding back a smile. He’s evil, yes. But he’s damned sexy, too.
Reed says, “In fact, if you blab to C-Bomb about what you just witnessed, before he takes the stage tonight, I’ll personally make sure you get a thousand-dollar bonus added to your next paycheck.”
Amy’s eyebrows shoot up. Obviously, that’s a lot of money to her. “What, exactly, do you want me to say to C-Bomb, sir?”
“The truth. What you saw when you poked your head into the room. For real. Now, to be clear, last time is still off limits, Amy. But this time, fire away. In fact, let me give you a little something else to gossip about.” He turns and smiles devilishly at me. “Georgina Ricci, I love you, baby.”
I can’t help smiling broadly. “I love you, too, Reed Rivers.”
“And I don’t mean that platonically,” he adds. “I very much enjoy having sex with you, every single day.”
I giggle. “I’m glad. Because I very much enjoy having sex with you.”
Reed kisses me briefly, but sensuously—definitely not platonically—before returning to Amy with a smirk. “Did you catch all that, Amy O’Brien?”
She makes a face that plainly conveys her mistrust. Like she’s wondering, Is this a trap? “Uhh,” she says. “I think so?”
“We can do it for you again, if you’re not clear.”
“No, I am. And, congratulations. You two are an incredibly attractive couple. But... I just want to make sure I understand, out of an abundance of caution. You want me to be honest about what I’ve seen and heard tonight... with Caleb?”
