Managed:a VIP novel(25)

We struggle with the newness of the situation for a few seconds, and  then he sighs, his warm breath stirring my hair, and his hard body  eases. It's so peaceful, that sound, that I sink into his hold. We're  over the covers, but I'm so warm, so secure, that it doesn't matter.

Gabriel's lips press against the crown of my head. "Every night, chatty girl."

The possession in his voice is absolute. I'm in so much fucking trouble.





Chapter Ten





Gabriel







"So, what are we going to tell people?" Sophie's big brown eyes gaze up  at me with worry as we make our way to the practice room set up at a  local recording studio.

Kill John is going to do a run through of a new song before we set off  again, and I want to see if they're up to snuff. Sophie, of course, will  be there to take photos.

Having gained two hours of sleep-a bloody miracle, by my count-I'm  feeling so relaxed and mellow that I nearly hum one of their tunes. I  might very well be losing my mind, but I don't bloody care.

"About what?"

"About me rooming with you." She waves an arm in exasperation.

She's adorable, really. And so fantastically soft and rounded and warm.  God, she's warm when she sleeps, her lemon tart scent stronger, earthier  somehow. I'm tempted to turn us around and demand more nap time.

I have to force myself to pay attention. "Do you not want them to know?"

"Well," she falters. "I don't know. It's just kind of … " Brown eyes  narrow on me. "Do you want them to know you need me to fall asleep?"

"Not particularly."

She stops at the threshold of the room. No one has noticed us yet, so we  have a bit of privacy. "They're going to think we're together."

A lovely flush pinks her round cheeks. My finger itches to stroke them.

"And that would be a problem?" I find myself asking.

Her full lips part, then snap shut before she answers. "It's a problem  if it's a lie. And, no, I don't like the idea of people I work with  gossiping about us."         

     



 

"I see." With a nod, I turn toward the room. "Oy, listen up. Sophie will  be traveling with me on my coach. And it's none of your bloody business  why, so I'd better not hear a word about it. Understood?"

At my side, Sophie makes a strangled gurgle that sounds like a drowning chipmunk.

My boys, however, just blink back at me before grinning.

"Well, all right then, Scottie," Rye drawls. "Glad to see you taking initiative in your personal life."

Whip shakes his head. "Fucking knew it."

"You know nothing," Sophie hisses at him.

Jax high-fives Rye. "You owe us each fifty bucks, Killian."

"Shit, and I was so sure he'd hold out longer. Thanks a lot, Scottie." Killian glares at me. The little arse.

"What did I say about speculating?" I warn. "One more word and I'll have  you all doing a music video with synchronized dancing faster than you  can say Backstreet Boys."

Whip lifts up a hand. "Okay, geesh. Got it. You two are an impenetrable  wall that no one shall gaze upon. No need to go all Simon Cowell on us."

I don't have time to see how the others react. Sophie pinches my side.

"Ouch. Do you mind? This is a silk-wool blend. You'll wrinkle it."

"It's about to be shredded." She seethes up at me, eyes shooting sparks. "You just totally threw our business out there."

"I told them not to talk about it."

Her nose wrinkles. "Which means they'll be talking about it even more."

"No, they won't."

"Yes, we will," Rye calls.

I point at him. "Start practicing your Running Man."

"Is anyone else impressed that he knows dance moves?"

Sophie pokes me with her finger to punctuate each word. "This is all your fault."

Brenna takes it upon herself to stroll over. Her smile is wide and smug.  "What did I tell you, Scottie-boy? I hire the best people."

Poor Sophie is beet red now. I feel a pinch of regret for putting her in  an awkward position. But I know these people. They are my family.  Better than family. Teasing aside, they'll do as I ask, if only because  I've never asked them for anything personal before.

I would tell Sophie this now, but I think it would embarrass her  further. So I settle for meeting her gaze and putting all the tender  gratitude I feel into my voice. "Yes, Brenna, you do."

My reward is Sophie's expression going soft and luminous. Something  cracks open within my chest. I don't know what it is, but I do know one  thing: my chatty girl has no idea what she's gotten herself into.  Because I'm not letting go.







Sophie







"You excited about touring?" Jules asks as we sprawl on the grass lawn in Edinburgh's West Princes Street Park.

Above us is a rare, cloudless blue sky. If I lift my head, I'll see the  dark, craggy face of Castle Rock rising almost straight from the earth  and the low-slung, imposing fortress of Edinburgh Castle sitting on top  of it.

Last night, Kill John played at the castle's Esplande, which is an open,  U-shaped stadium on top of Castle Rock with the castle as a backdrop.  I've never experienced a concert like that, the glittering lights of the  city below us, the medieval-looking castle creating an air of  timelessness as Kill John brought fans to a screaming roar. It lifted  goose bumps on my skin.

After taking a few pictures of the guys practicing at a recording studio  this morning, I was given the rest of the day off. Since Jules also has  free time on her hands, and I was too worked up about the prospect of  rooming with Gabriel, I convinced her to escape with me and tour the  town until we leave later this evening. And so we are taking full  advantage, soaking up the sunlight streaming down on this lovely day.

"Completely," I answer, cracking open one eye to glance at her. "This  isn't your first tour, though. Does it still hold any excitement for  you?"

"Of course. I live for this." She turns my way. In the sunlight, I see  that her eyes aren't simply brown but streaked with green. "It's more  than a career; it's a dream come true. And one day, I'll be in charge of  my own bands."

"I envy you. I don't have a dream like that."

Jules rolls to her side to face me, her head pillowed on the big, green hobo bag she always carries. "What do you mean?"

As I think about how to explain, a mime dressed in a tuxedo stops on the  wide walking path and sets down a portable radio, which starts playing  Michael Jackson's "Thriller." I watch him dance and fight a smile. At  the far end of the park, by the Ross Fountain, a guy in a kilt plays the  bagpipes. Their music blends into a disjointed clash of sounds. It's  wonderfully horrible, and nothing I'd ever have experienced if I hadn't  taken a leap and gotten onto a plane with only the smallest bit of  information to go on.         

     



 

"I've never had a set dream job," I tell Jules, watching the mime dance.  "Never had an intense ambition. And sometimes I wonder if I'm defective  that way."

"You are not defective," Jules says with feeling. "Maybe you just haven't found what you love to do yet."

I shake my head and smile. "No, that's not it. I simply don't really  care what I'm doing as long as I get to live life, be happy, and enjoy  new things. Making money is great because it helps me travel, puts a  roof over my head. But at the end of the day? I'm not ambitious and  never will be." I shrug and pull a blade of bright green grass from the  dirt. "Even worse? Eventually I want a home and to share it with someone  who gets me completely, someone I can't keep my hands off. I want  babies, and to decorate my porch on Halloween and Christmas."

Jules frowns. "Why is that bad?"

"Okay, it isn't bad per se, but all my peers seem to have this drive to  make their mark in the world. And here I am thinking that a simple thing  like this-" I sweep my arm toward the looming hill face, which looks  like a Victorian painting. "-is something to live for."

Jules scans the scene before us, and a slow smile lights her face.  "Well, then, I envy you more. Because I should be living in the moment.  Worrying about what could go wrong in the future gives me fucking  heartburn." She chuckles, and her fuchsia curls bounce around her face.  "And I really need to stop worrying about disappointing Scottie."

"That's easy," I say. "Just remember he's all bark."

God, I love it when he barks, gets me all shivery and hot. Which should tell me I'm completely twisted.

Jules certainly looks as me as though I am. "Girl, I've felt his bite.  Trust me, it's real, and it's scary." But then she winces. "Shit, I  forgot you're with him now."

"Consorting with the enemy, you mean?" I tease.

"Something like that." She doesn't look as though it really bothers her, however.

I rest my forearm over my forehead. "First off, I'm not with him. We're … well, it's complicated."