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Kingston
I woke up to the boner from hell and my phone ringing. I grabbed for it in annoyance, without even looking at who was calling.
“Yeah, hello?”
“Good morning to you too.” Sasha laughed good-naturedly.
“Sorry.” I yawned. “Just woke up.”
“It’s after eleven, Kingston. Aren’t you getting a little old to party all night?”
“Speak for yourself. But I never sleep well when I’m not on tour, so there’s that. I got home from Z’s house early, put on a movie, and then was up until almost five. It happens a lot when I’m not on the road. It’s like I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“Well, you’ll be back out there before you know it.”
“Thank fuck. Anyway, what’s up?”
“Well, we got the contracts back from Devyn’s attorney and it’s interesting. The only changes she wanted were with regard to the NDA.”
“Yeah? What kind of changes?”
“She made sure to add that it has to be reciprocal.”
“Meaning we can’t talk about anything we learn about her if she leaves,” I said slowly. “That is interesting.”
“I already had a background check done last week and there’s nothing. No arrests, no outstanding warrants, nothing in her juvie file either. So I’m a little baffled.”
I was about to ask how she’d checked her juvenile records but decided not to. As the stepdaughter of a European king, she probably had access to all kinds of shit I didn’t need to know about.
“And her social media is clean?”
“Her social media is more boring than my cat’s.”
I laughed. “That’s pretty damn boring since you don’t have a cat.”
“Exactly. Anyway, she might be hiding something, but if she is, it’s not criminal.”
“She might just want to protect herself because when it comes down to it, she doesn’t know us anymore than we know her.”
“For sure. And, frankly, she’s a woman in a very male-dominated industry. Maybe she’s afraid you guys will talk shit if she starts sleeping around, or something like that.”
For whatever reason, the idea of Devyn sleeping with a bunch of groupies—male or female—made me uncomfortable.
Which made no sense.
She was free to do whatever she wanted. I certainly planned to.
So why had I just made a fist?
I unclenched my hand and sat up, trying to refocus.
“Could be,” I said. “Either way, is it done? Signed, sealed, and delivered?”
“I assume it will be now that I’ve sent her the updated document.”
“Great. And the tour?”
“The second I get her signature, I’m pulling the trigger. There are details to iron out, but I’m on it.”
