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Broken Lyric

Page 43

by C.J. Barlowe

Hell, through all the arguing, I didn’t see that the rain is back and with a vengeance.

Turning to my mother, I watch her put on her heels with grace. I shake off my brief stupor and tell her, “Goodbye, Eomma.” I haven’t called her mom since I was a little kid. The word is foreign on my tongue, so I stuck with Lee, like she had requested.

She pauses at the door, glances over her shoulder, striking a pose like she used to for Korean Vogue, and gives me a genuine smile. Then she takes the driver’s hand and leaves.

As much as I hate my mother for not defending me all those years ago, and I admit she can be self-centered, there are times when it almost seems as if she has a good heart. Unfortunately, most of those times are now tainted by my father’s influence, money and fame.

“What are we going to do? I have to tell Danny and the guys about this—I knew something was up when Danny called me,” Rafe grates out, his phone gripped in his hand, ready to call his bandmate.

“Like I said, we need to beat my father in this game he initiated.”

“How?” Rafe is pacing the living room.

“We’ll make some calls. I still have friends in the music industry who might help,” I explain, hoping my contacts still have the same phone numbers.

“I have a few friends who love heavy metal music, and I know they will be happy to help spread the word,” Ji jumps in, excited. He grabs his phone and starts tapping at the screen.

“What can we do?” Rafe asks as he gestures to himself and Fig. I really look at him—this man I don’t want to care for. He’s moved so close to me that when I look up, I can see straight into his blue eyes. Flecks of black are in them.

Why didn’t I notice that before?

“Call Danny—better yet, call Dante. Tell them the situation and see if they can round up some bodies to fill that club.”

Rafe smiles, and my body lights up. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Helping.” He leans and pecks me right on the mouth before I get a chance to avoid his lips.

“My grandmother is watching,” I scold. But when I look at her, she’s grinning. She waves us off and heads back into the kitchen.

“I don’t think she minds. She likes me, as you can tell.” Rafe tips his chin up with such confidence that I want to either smack him or kiss him. I should prefer to do the first, but I desperately want to do the second.

“We have work to do. I want to make sure Warrior Black gets the audience it deserves,” I declare with a grin.

“Then let’s get to work.”

We make our calls—even Fig, who apparently has contacts here in Korea, is on his phone. At Halmeoni’s insistence, we break to eat, then go right back to calling people. The four of us are already making some buzz about the upcoming impromptu concert Warrior Black is doing right in Seoul.

Even Dante is making headway promoting this event from over in the States. By two in the morning, when my head finally hits my pillow, I am exhausted and more than ready for sleep. Rafe, who is still in the living room, is on a Zoom call with his band and Dante and Ron, their current and former band managers.

I crash, falling into a deep sleep until I’m jostled when Rafe molds his firm body against mine. The heat of his kisses on my neck awakens my need to have him inside me. “What time it is?”

“It’s five in the morning.” He kisses my neck and then the edge of my left ear.

“Rafe.” I can’t hide the lust rising in me.

“I know, baby. Just be quiet and feel,” Rafe whispers as his hands remove my underwear and then my shirt. Our skin-to-skin contact has my dick fully erect. He glides his rough palms across my chest and down my stomach until his fingers wrap about my shaft and he begins stroking it.

“I need more.”

“And you’ll get it. Just keep quiet. Not a sound.”

The authority in his gruff tone has my body shivering with desire.

“Okay. But I’m clean. No condom this time. Please,” I beg.

Rafe goes perfectly still, and I worry I’m asking too much. Until he whispers in my ear, “You got it, baby.”