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Ryder looked relieved while Remi raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced by my sudden interruption. “Really, Ghost? Right now?”
“Yeah, sorry,” I said, giving her an apologetic grin. “Band business, you understand.”
“Of course,” she replied with a tight smile, her eyes narrowing as if trying to read my thoughts. But she couldn’t do anything about it and reluctantly closed her notebook. “I guess we’ll have to finish this interview later, Ryder.”
“Sure thing,” he said, practically leaping out of his chair. “Thanks for understanding, Remi.”
As we left the room, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of victory. Sooner or later, she’d have to stop ignoring me. It was past time to get to know the real Remi, beyond her professional facade. And maybe, I’d finally taste that passion I’d been craving.
Later that night, after the concert, I found myself surrounded by the raucous laughter and clinking glasses of our post-show party. We were in the dimly lit arena, planning to go out to a club after some drinks. Remi, her dark hair cascading down her back like a raven waterfall, stood near the bar, making notes in her ever-present notebook. My cock stirred at the sight of her beauty. She didn’t flaunt herself like other girls I met on the tour, but I could tell that beneath her clothes lurked a paradise just waiting to be explored.
“Hey, Remi,” I said, sliding up beside her, inhaling the sweet scent of flowers that hung in the air around her. “Why don’t you take a break from work and have some fun? You’re at a rock star party, for crying out loud.”
She looked at me skeptically, her pen hovering over her notebook. “I’m here to do a job, Ghost. Not to party.”
“Come on,” I insisted, signaling the guy who was mixing some drinks. “One drink won’t kill you.”
Her gaze met mine with hesitance, but she finally nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. The guy, probably one of the crew, handed her a glass filled with an amber liquid.
“Thanks,” she said softly, taking a sip of her drink. The air around us felt charged, as if we were both walking on a tightrope strung between desire and restraint.
The drink seemed to loosen her up and, before it was finished, our banter flowed easily, filled with playful jabs and witty comebacks. Remi was smart and personable when she let herself relax. I’d seen her that way with other people, but she always seemed to keep her guard up around me. I could feel the connection between us growing and it felt good to see her smile, to catch a glimpse of the woman beneath the professional exterior.
Just as I was starting to feel we were making progress, Trudy, our manager, came over with an insistent expression. “Ghost, there’s a VIP here who wants to meet you. Can I steal you away for a moment?”
“Sure, Trudy,” I sighed, shooting Remi an apologetic glance as Trudy pulled me away. “Save my spot, will you?”
“Go ahead, Mr. Rockstar,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “Don’t keep your adoring fans waiting.”
The VIP turned out to be some awkward, stuffy dude with his teenage daughter, who seemed to have swallowed her tongue. I stumbled through several minutes of conversation, signed an autograph, and took a selfie before I could escape.
The gathering had grown wilder as I talked with the VIPs, who were quickly ushered away by Trudy. I looked around, noticing that the road crew had joined the party. As I searched for Remi in the rowdy crowd, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. My instincts were screaming at me to keep an eye on her since one drink had already made her tipsy. I knew she could handle herself, but my protective nature was getting the better of me.
I finally spotted Remi, cornered by a burly guy from the crew, his imposing figure looming over her. She looked uncomfortable, her eyes darting around for an escape route. Without hesitation, I pushed through the crowd, positioning myself between them.
“Hey, man,” I said, my voice cold and hard. “ I think it’s time for you to leave her alone.”
The guy scowled but backed off, especially when he saw who he was dealing with. Remi looked at me with a mix of relief and gratitude. Her eyes were wide, and her breathing was shallow, betraying her unease.
“Thanks,” she murmured. “I think I’m done for the night. I’ll just head back to my tour bus.”
“Let me walk you there,” I insisted, not willing to let her go alone after what had just happened. She hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement.
“Fine,” she agreed, clearly shaken by the encounter.
As we walked through the cool night air, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility for her well-being. It was a new feeling; I’d never really felt so protective of someone before, especially a woman I barely knew.
“Hey, why don’t you come on my tour bus for a bit?” I suggested, trying to keep my voice casual. “We never get a chance to talk without someone interrupting.”
My heart thundered in my chest, waiting for her answer, and I wondered if she could feel the magnetic pull between us as strongly as I did.
Remi looked hesitant but intrigued. She held up her blue journal. “Should I be taking notes, then?” she joked, attempting to hide her uncertainty.
“Strictly off the record,” I assured her, flashing a grin. “This is purely personal. No work allowed.”
She raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Are you sure your adoring fans won’t miss you at the party?”
“Trust me, they’ll survive,” I replied, gesturing toward my bus. She hesitated for a moment longer before finally nodding in agreement. We walked together, the darkness enveloping us as we stepped deeper into the night and away from the chaos of the party.
