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“Pretty much so,” I bite back, over both our conversation and the constant repercussions of a hasty decision I made years ago while under the influence. “I lied to keep a promise I’d made to River. I guess some people would see that as defrauding the government.” When my reply has her looking at me in a way she hasn’t previously—with pity—I say, “Grab your purse. You’re at your limit, so you won’t be served more alcohol tonight.”
She yanks out of my hold when I curl my hand around her elbow. It isn’t hard. I’m barely touching her, but she makes it seem as if I’m squeezing her heart of blood. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Why the fuck not? You had no problems spending time with me when I buried my head between your legs.”
She swings for me. Her hit isn’t an open-handed slap or a fairy tap to my stomach. She swings for my face with her fist and almost takes me down with one punch.
After righting my head to its original position and working my jaw side to side to ensure nothing is broken, I once again curl my hand around her elbow before tugging her off her seat. “I’m not asking, Nicole. We’re leaving. Now.”
When her heels digging into the carpet get me nowhere fast, I wrap my arm around her ass, then toss her onto my shoulder. The wig she’s using to hide the shame on her face falls to the ground as her fists whack into my back.
“Put me down! Just because you’re the first man to give me head doesn’t make you the boss of me.” Her reply blasts excitement through my veins. It only lasts as long as it takes to remember Knox is a selfish man. “No one is the boss of me!”
She beats into me until we enter the elevator, and its lurch as it springs into action swirls her stomach more than the whiskey she’s struggling to keep down.
“I’m going to put you down now, but don’t take that as me backing down. I’ll carry you all the way to Ravenshoe if it’s the only way I can guarantee you’ll make it to your bed in one piece. Do you hear me, Nicole? I’m not playing with your safety like this, and you mean too fucking much to me to sit back and watch you fall.”
I take her silence as acceptance of my warning.
She sways when I place her onto her feet, but she doesn’t bolt for the elevator panel to select the next floor as I’m anticipating. Instead, she hits me with a mood-sobering fact. “They hate me. They said I should quit singing and join the circus because that’s where clowns belong.” Her eyes are on me, wet and full of pain. “I should have listened to you. You tried to warn me. I just…”
“Handed your voice to someone else.” I’m not asking a question or trying to make her feel bad. I’m endeavoring to show her it’s okay to put your faith in someone who doesn’t deserve it. We all make mistakes. I’m a walking billboard for them. “There’s no shame in that. You’ve just got to remember that no one knows you better than you. Not Knox. Not your friends. Not even me.Youknowyou.”
When the elevator arrives at our floor, she blinks several times before helming our silent walk to her room. I stray my eyes to the floor when she commences stripping out of her coat and slinky dress at the foot of her untouched bed.
The reason for her hundred nightcaps makes sense when my eyes land on her iPhone dumped on the rug under her bed. It is playing a live broadcast of her rehearsal earlier. I know it is from today because she executes a kick that took her three days to perfect.
The belittling snickers booming from her phone speaker and the thousands of comments underneath the video can't be missed. They mock Nicole without concern for the consequences because they can hide behind a screen.
Nicole can’t do the same.
No one in the public eye can.
“Don’t pay attention to anything they say.” I switch off her cell and place it on the bedside table before pulling down the stiff bedding. “The paparazzi aren’t critics. They’re not even your fans, and since they’re clueless about what it takes to produce an album, they can’t rate its salability.”
“But the commenters are the people we need to buy my album.”
Nicole quickly removes the tear that falls from her eye, but not fast enough.
I still see it.
“If the pressure is too much—”
“I can handle the pressure.” One truth always encourages another. “I’m just not sure I am the right person for this job. I’m shy—”
“Bullshit.” My word is spat out of my mouth like a bullet. “You’re just hoping your shy act will be more appealing to the masses than a woman who knows what she wants and won’t quit fighting until she gets it.”
“It isn’t an act.”Hiccup. “I’m not acting.”
“Bullshit,” I repeat. “You weren’t shy when you fell to your knees to suck my dick.” Her inhalation exposes she’s more turned on by my lewd comment than disgusted. “You weren’t shy when riling me about a supposed prostitute addiction.” That awards me a genuine smile for the first time in five days. “And you weren’t shy when you sang with nothing but the tap of a pen against a sheet of paper as backup.” I pluck up a pen from her bedside table and tap out the composition we arranged the night we met. “You’re not shy, Nicole. You’re scared of falling because you think no one will be there to catch you.” Her glassy eyes bounce between mine when I admit, “That might have been true a week ago, but it isn’t anymore.”
“You…” She either takes a moment to think or swallow back vomit. I’m not exactly sure. “You stole my songbook. You took the first words I’d penned in alongtime and made out they were yours.” The instant the words leave her mouth, she knows they’re a lie. She’s merely struggling to understand how that is possible. “What did I miss?”
“I don’t know.” That’s the most honest I’ve been in almost a week… perhaps even a decade. “But I will find out. I promise you that.”
Nicole accepts my pledge with more faith than I deserve. She dips her chin in thanks before climbing into the middle of the bed on her hands and knees.
When I tug up the blanket at the foot of the bed to cover her bare legs, her veins too primed with whiskey to understand the AC is chilly, I discover where she hides her most valued possession.
