“First tell me you know that I’d never use you the way that prick suggested.”
“I know. You better go with Rip before Normie throws one of his fits. I’ll join you guys after I’ve changed.” Then she slips into the bathroom and closes the door behind her, leaving me no other choice than to head out with Rip.
Time drags on as we meet with the usual reps and event coordinators inside the stadium, especially when there’s no sign of Belle. With minutes to go before meet and greet is scheduled to begin, I decide to sneak back to the bus to find her and make sure she’s okay. Luke appears in the doorway as I’m leaving the green room, blocking my exit. Before he’s able to get a word in, I already know something’s wrong by his tight expression.
“Your father’s here,” he tells me.
My heart literally slams to a stop.
What the actual fuck?
It’s not surprising that my father would know where to find me since the band’s tour schedule is plastered all over the Internet, but I haven’t heard from him in years. Why now? Why seek me out a thousand miles from home?
Threading my fingers through my hair, I lean against the cool concrete wall as memories of the last time I saw him rush back in a fucked-up blur. The asshole looked ready to slug me one when I stopped by his apartment to tell him that he was dead to me and I didn’t ever want to hear from him again. Guess in his mind “never” has a shelf life.
Luke watches me with his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t know the whole story about my father, but he knows enough to appreciate why I’d be upset. “He asked security if he could have a minute with you.”
Hatred seeps through every inch of my being when I imagine meeting my old man. “Tell them to send him back.”
Luke dips his chin with understanding. “Want me to stick around?”
“That won’t be necessary. I can handle the prick.”
As Luke retrieves him, I pace the green room, hands clenched into fists at my side. What I’d really like is for Luke to hold him down while I pummel him with my fists as he would always do, although I couldn’t possibly pay him back for the shit he did to my head. Another part of me wants to stick my chest out like a rooster and ask him what he thinks of my “useless” career now.
Then he appears in the doorway, and my rushed breaths all at once make my throat painfully tight.
Drops of rain darken his blazer and his brown hair’s slightly slicked down. He doesn’t look much different from what I remember except for maybe a few more gray hairs, and there’s a red tint surrounding his nose—probably from all the drinking he’s done in the last decade. He’s still in good shape otherwise, likely from time at the gym and countless hours on the golf course. A deep tan and few wrinkles make him deceivingly handsome. Most people would see an attractive, successful man standing in front of me. But all I see is the devil in the flesh.
And just when I think it couldn’t possibly get any worse, Brooke steps in behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Roman
For a horrific moment, I’m convinced that I’m stuck in a goddamned nightmare. I don’t know how the hell else this could be possible. The two people I despise the most stand in front of me, big fucking smiles plastered on their faces like we’re all the best of friends and there’s nothing unusual about us being in a room together.
“It’s good to see you, Roman,” my old man says, offering me his hand.
“Why are you here?” I cross my twitching arms over my chest, jamming my hands under my armpits. It’s the only way I can be sure that I won’t wrap them around his neck and choke the life from the asshole. “I already told you I don’t want you in my life anymore.”
His mask doesn’t slip with my blatant reaction to seeing him. If anything, his lips curl up a little more as he lowers his arm back to his side. “Brooke invited me along to see your show. She thought I would enjoy seeing your success firsthand.”
When I glance Brooke’s way, she’s giving me this wide-eyed look like she’s proud of herself and waiting for me to fucking thank her for bringing this monster back into my life. Is this her way of getting back at me?
Stomach clenched, I swing my attention back onto my father. “My success happened despite your best efforts,” I growl out. “Or don’t you remember all the times you tried beating the love of music from me?”
Throwing a wide-eyed look over his shoulder, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He must be scared someone will finally learn of our secret. Or maybe he’s hopeful there’s a bar nearby. It’s laughable that I was once afraid of the coward standing in front of me.