Forbidden Billionaire Rockstar (Raising Havoc Bandmates #4)

7. Mallory

7

Mallory

My lungs forget how to function as I drink in the sight of Jace’s bare chest. It’s a cruel reminder of what I can’t have, what I shouldn’t want. The room suddenly feels too small, too warm, too... everything.

The air is thick with the scent of Jace's cologne, a heady mix of sandalwood and pine. I can hear the soft hum of the air conditioning, a stark contrast to the thundering of my heart. The plush carpet beneath my feet feels too soft, making me unsteady, or maybe that's just the effect Jace has on me.

Is it hot in here?

I steal a quick glance around the room, anywhere that will get my eyes off him, and take in the sight of the steam rolling into the bedroom from the bathroom. Great, he was just getting ready to head into the shower.

Jace is standing there, jaw ticking as he stares at me, and I step closer to him. “You don’t get to determine who I spend my time with.”

He nods. “Okay.”

“Great, that’s settled,” I mutter under my breath.

Jace hums in response but doesn’t make a move to get away from me — if anything, it appears we’ve only gotten closer to each other. I shake my head, step to the side, and make my way back over to the door with my head held high. As soon as my hand lands on the doorknob, Jace’s shadow looms over me, and he’s gripping my hips.

When he spins me around, there’s a level of heat in his eyes that I haven’t seen before, and he sighs. “You’re a siren song, Mallory. Beautiful, irresistible... and dangerous as hell.”

I shake my head because I’ve lost the ability to talk with him standing so close to me. The shower is still spraying in the bathroom, and steam is rolling through the crack in the door, coating the room heavily in condensation.

My heart races, a drum of desire and panic. I should leave, I know I should, but my feet remain rooted to the spot, betraying my better judgment.

There’s this gleam in his eyes that tells me exactly what his next move is going to be, yet I don’t step away from him to keep it from happening. Instead, I look into his eyes, silently give him permission, and within a second, he slams his lips against mine.

It’s a bruising kiss, a perfect storm of longing and desperation — it’s like he won’t be able to live without draining the air from my lungs. I open my mouth for him, our tongues swiping together in a dance of their own, and I close my eyes to drink in the moment.

His hands squeeze my hips, tugging me against him, and it’s when I feel his hard length pressing into my stomach that everything comes back into focus. I place my hands on his chest, push him away, and duck away from him before exiting the room. There’s no one else in the hallway, but I still do my best to cover my face in case anyone else comes out of their rooms.

The last thing I need is for my brother to come waltzing out, wondering what the hell I’m doing on their floor when the people I work for are one more down. As soon as I step into the elevator, I lean against the cool metal of the wall and take a few deep breaths while gripping the railing attached behind my back.

What was I thinking?

Kissing him is the last thing I should be doing.

But it felt like the only thing that made sense in a world that’s spinning out of control. I’m losing myself in this push and pull between professionalism and passion, and I’m not sure which version of me will emerge victorious.

The elevator opens onto my floor, and I disappear into my room, pressing my back against the door once it’s shut and closing my eyes while I think. My lips are still tingling from the kiss, forcing me to bring my hands up and brush my fingers over them. I’m sure if someone got one look at me they’d notice how swollen they are, which is why it’s a relief I won’t have to see anyone for a few more hours.

Instead of focusing on Jace, I walk over to the small table where my paperwork is lined up with lists of different marketing plans, and I look over the words. I’ve got to get in touch with a radio host to give an exclusive interview with Sweet Surrender after their show, but I can’t focus on anything other than the feel of Jace’s lips against mine.

Focus, Mallory.

I grab the pen I’ve been using from the table and tap it frantically against the thick wood, my leg bouncing in tandem with it. No matter how much I try to read what’s on the papers in front of me, I can’t seem to comprehend what they say.

A soft knock on my door pulls me away from my work and I make my way over to the door, nervous that Jace decided to follow me back to my room. When I open the door, Trevor stands outside, his tall frame slightly hunched. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his worn-out jeans, fingers visibly fidgeting beneath the denim.

His usually confident demeanor is replaced by nervous energy, evident in the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His tousled brown hair looks like he's been running his hands through it repeatedly, and there's a crease between his eyebrows that I've never noticed before.

“Hey, Mallory,” Trevor says, “I, uh, just wanted to check-in. You seemed distracted earlier. Everything okay?”

I force a smile. Only the typical pre-show nerves. Nothing I can’t handle.”

He nods, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Well, if you need anything... I mean, we’re all in this together, you know?”

The sincerity in his voice only amplifies my guilt. If he knew where I’d been, what I’d been doing...

“Have you met me?” I ask, arching a brow with a smirk. “I live for working.”

He chuckles and looks down the hall, before turning his gaze back at me with his mouth open as if he has something else he wants to say. Instead of speaking, he clamps his mouth shut when one of the other doors open and Ledger comes waltzing out of the room.

“Hey,” Trevor says, nodding toward his bandmate. “What’s up?”

Ledger freezes, then slowly turns around and shrugs. “Just going to get some fresh air. Can never rest before a big show, you know?”

Trevor nods, then looks back at me with a frown. “I’ll, uh, come with you.”

Ledger’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “I’m not going to be the best company right now. Just want some alone time.”

I catch a flicker of something in Ledger's eyes - guilt? Anxiety? Whatever it is, it's not my place to pry. I push down my curiosity, reminding myself to focus on my own problems. I clear my throat, smile at the two guys, and nod. “Enjoy the rest of the day. I’ll see you guys later on tonight.”

Trevor doesn’t get a chance to say anything else before I close the door and shut it softly behind me. I fix my eyes on the papers on the table for a few minutes, wondering if I should take another stab at getting my work done, followed by a quick glance at the bed that seems to be inviting me.

A nap might be exactly what I need.

I’ll set an alarm to wake up in an hour to get the interview set up.

Everything will be okay.

***

I jolt awake, fragments of dreams about Jace's touch still clinging to my consciousness. Something feels off. I squint against the too-bright light flooding my room, the silence pressing against my ears. Disoriented, I fumble for my phone, a knot of dread forming in my stomach.

There’s a sharp knock on my door, and I lift from the bed while rubbing my eyes. The knock intensifies, becoming more erratic, and I glance at the digital clock sitting next to my bed. My heart races at the numbers staring back at me, showing that I only have thirty minutes to get myself to look presentable for the concert, and I jump from the bed.

“Coming, coming,” I say breathlessly, then pull open the door. Hilary is standing in the hall, an eyebrow raised as she takes in my rumpled clothes, and she rolls her eyes. “Hilary, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Her impeccably pressed suit and perfectly coiffed blonde hair are a stark contrast to my disheveled state. Her piercing green eyes scan me from head to toe, and I can practically feel her disapproval radiating off her in waves.

She sighs and pushes past me, showing that she doesn’t need an invitation to make herself at home. “I want to make sure you’ve got everything covered for tonight once the guys get off stage.”

I swallow thickly and nod. “Of course, everything is going to be perfect.” The lie tastes awful on my tongue, but I can’t take it back now.

After nodding, Hilary gives me another look. “Get ready. We’ll meet you at the stadium.”

Without another word, she disappears from the room and leaves me alone to figure out what I’m going to do. I need to explore other options since I highly doubt there will be anyone with a significant following available to come to the stadium on such short notice — perhaps someone who isn’t as well-known.

My phone is lying on the empty side of my bed, and I scurry across the floor, snatching it up, and find the clock app on my home screen. There’s no reason I shouldn’t have woken up from my alarm. When I finally get to the alarm I set, my heart sinks, and I shake my head with a frown.

I’ve never made such a simple mistake before. Instead of setting the alarm for five in the evening, I set it for the morning — which means it isn’t going to go off for another ten hours. This is a mistake a rookie would make, but not me. I pride myself on being able to get my work done.

If it weren’t for Jace and the feel of his lips haunting me, perhaps I would’ve been able to do what I was supposed to do. I glance at the time at the top of the screen and shake my head with a sigh. I don’t have time to worry about this. I have to be at the stadium soon, and I’m not anywhere near ready.

Once I am backstage, I’ll worry about everything.

This is a mistake that could cost me my job.

And it’s all because I couldn’t keep Jace out of my head. One kiss, and I’m risking everything I’ve worked for. Is this what I’ve become? A lovesick teenager masquerading as a professional? The thought makes me sick to my stomach.

I've always prided myself on my professionalism, on being the composed, competent woman who could handle anything. But now? One kiss from Jace, and I'm unraveling at the seams.

Part of me wants to give in, to let myself fall into the intoxicating whirlwind that is Jace. But another part, the part that's fought tooth and nail for this career, is screaming at me to get it together. I'm torn between the woman I've become, and the woman Jace makes me want to be.

And I'm terrified of what choosing either path might cost me

The interview was supposed to help Sweet Surrender gain traction while they were on tour, and I could’ve ruined any chance they had at that.

***

The backstage area is a din of sounds - the distant roar of the crowd, the metallic clang of equipment being moved, and the low murmur of crew members. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, everything seems too bright, too real.

The line rings on the other end of the phone as I pace back and forth along the lounge room located backstage. There’s a plush couch, the one I was sitting on earlier today, but I can’t bring myself to sit down.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to perfect my ponytail, and I had to go with leaving my waves down. Every few seconds, I run a hand through the thick strands, desperate to do something with my hands because I can’t believe that it would turn into this much of a disaster.

As soon as the guys get off that stage and realize I didn’t do what I was supposed to, they will fire me without a second thought.

This was important for them.

Brent came by once, asking me if everything was okay, and I briefly explained before telling him I had to figure this out. He left me alone quietly, although I could tell he hated that there was nothing he could do, and for a moment I thought about asking him for a favor. With Raising Havoc being as popular as they are, I’m sure any of the radio shows would jump at the chance to come here for them — I don’t want to use my brother, though.

I need to prove I can do this.

My neck prickles with awareness, but the automated voice message system that greets me on the other end of the phone forces my attention away from it. I stab my finger against the red button, then quickly go to the next number on my list before bringing the device back to my ear. For a moment, the ringing stops, and my heart soars at the idea that I may have finally gotten hold of someone, but it’s quickly replaced with another ring.

Another voicemail.

This time, when I end the call, I toss my phone onto the couch and press my face into the palm of my hands while I think about what I’m going to do next.

All I can do is prepare for the worst. There’s nothing else I can do.

I’m screwed.