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CHAPTERELEVEN
As Della breezed past the reception desk, she wrapped the collar more tightly over her chest. “Please charge this to room 2112.”
It looked like the woman behind the desk had her finger on a security alert button. “Uh…”
“Don’t worry. He can afford it.” Della strutted out of the Bellagio Hotel in a robe and her crystal-studded stilettos. She was keeping them.
She’d tossed the ring at him.
The early morning sunlight hurt her eyes, the hammering in her head threatened to split it wide open, and she was done.
Done with the entire Van Claybourne clusterfuck experience.
Seeking out shade, she pulled her phone out of her purse and called Martin.
She wasn’t surprised when he answered on the first ring. “I heard.”
“Which juicy bit did you hear exactly? Because there’s a lot.” Though she doubted he’d heard about their marriage.
Because she’d been too drunk to sign a prenup, and Martin would be a lot more worked up than he sounded right now.
“I heard about last night. In the chapel.”
“Right, so now that the band’s broken up, I’d like a ticket home, please. I need to get back to normal people.”
“They didn’t break up. Musicians do this all the time. They’re at the end of a nine-month North American tour. They’re burned out.”
The scent of bacon overwhelmed her, and her stomach revolted. Where the hell is that smell coming from? She twisted around to find she was standing next to a vent. “Has Van Claybourne ever done this before?”
“No, but that just means they’re overdue.”
She headed toward the fountain, finding shade under a tree. “Look, I don’t think this job’s for me, so I want to--”
“This job’s perfect for you. You’re the best PA Bex has ever had.”
I’d rather be the best lover he’s ever had.Too badneither of them remembered having sex.“Be that as it may, I’m tendering my resignation. Now, I’m asking you to book me a flight to Scottsdale this morning.”
“Della, there’s no need to quit.” He sounded alarmed. “Trust me, they’re not anywhere near over. They’re the biggest band in the world.”
Hilariously, he thought the problem was about the group disbanding.
Let him think what he wanted. The end result was the same. “You weren’t there. You didn’t hear them. Van’s done. He’s not happy. And I’m pretty sure they have enough money that they never have to work again.”
“It’s not like that. When you’ve got this kind of fame, you can’t go back to obscurity. Their egos get inflated. I see it happen every day. These guys decide they’ve made enough money, they’re tired of the lifestyle, so they quit. But give them a couple of months of grocery shopping, calling the plumber, and getting the car detailed, and they can’t stand their boring, ordinary lives. They beg for the next gig.”
“Okay, so in three months call me and ask if I want my job back. But right now, there’s nothing for me to do.”
“How about if I give you a bonus?”
“Pass.”
“Don’t you need more money to start your business?”
It wouldn’t hurt. It would take a while before she made a profit. “I’m good.” But it didn’t matter. She’d confessed her feelings to Bex.
There’s no coming back from that.
Worse, the first thing he’d said after finding out they’d gotten married was, I have to remind you about the NDA.
