I Want You to Want Me (Rock Star Romance #2) (15 page)

“Derek, I’m sorry. I never should’ve—”

“Stop.” He couldn’t hear it. She looked tormented, standing there in nothing but her pink lace panties. And she just looked so gorgeous, her cheeks flushed, her hair wild. “Just . . . fucking stop.” He couldn’t get a handle on the pain. “I’ll leave you alone. Okay? Believe me, I’ll leave you the fuck alone.”

“Derek.” Her voice was a tortured whisper.

“Give me a minute, okay? Just . . . go get ready for bed or something.”

The moment she was gone, he grabbed his phone out of his pocket. Punching in the number, he tilted his head back. What the fuck had he been thinking? She’d told him no from the beginning. He’d pushed and pushed, like some overeager teenage boy.

Why hadn’t he left her alone? She’d told him it could never happen, but he kept pushing and pushing, demanding more from her than she was willing to give.

And he got it. Got that she had no backup in her life. No education. That her reputation was her only means of employment. And if it got out that she’d slept with her client, her reputation would take a huge hit.

He got it. But he’d kept pushing anyway because he was a selfish fuck. Like she’d said, he had no rules.

But she did. She lived by her rules. It was how she survived.

She’d told him she couldn’t compromise her integrity, but what had he done?

Compromised her fucking integrity. So any hope he’d had of having an actual relationship with her, he’d just ruined. Fucking destroyed.

Because he was a selfish, impulsive prick.

The call went to voice mail, and he actually felt relief. He shouldn’t even be making this call. It was stupid. She wasn’t who he wanted.

But she was who he could have.

Then he heard Gen’s smoky, sultry voice, and he snapped out of it. She wanted him the same way he wanted her. No rejection, no emotions, no fucking blue balls.

The message ended, and he heard the beep. He hung up. He didn’t want to talk. So he texted instead.
In NJ tomorrow night.
Come to the show.

He disconnected and got the hell out of her room.

•   •   •

Violet
didn’t want to leave the bathroom. Standing naked and wet in front of a steam-covered mirror, her body still trembled from his outburst.

Of course she knew what her rejection felt like to him. It was his dad all over again. He’d been so honest, so pure-hearted with her. He was a passionate and intense man, and she just kept shutting him down.

She’d lost him for good. She’d felt it, had seen it in his eyes. He couldn’t take it anymore.

She’d played with him. For her own selfish desires, she’d let him kiss her, touch her.

He was a man, and she was a girl whose emotional maturity hadn’t developed along with the physical. Sure,
she played the role of an adult, but she’d been so fixated on survival, she’d never really developed herself as a woman. She hadn’t had those years of exploration.

And she’d loved how she felt in his arms, so she’d let him do it, when she should’ve remained firm all along.

I wish I could be more encouraging, but it’s unlikely she’ll ever have normal relationships.

Her knees gave out, and she snatched the towel off the rack, wrapping it around herself before sitting on the toilet seat lid.

When she closed her eyes, she was right back in that host’s bedroom—any of them; all of them—wrapping the soft cotton hoodie around her grandma’s poetry book, tucking each of the butter yellow patent leather shoes into a sleeve. Stuffing the sweatshirt into her worn ladybug backpack and then making that terrible, frightening walk across the host’s house to the front door and into the waiting arms of the social worker.

That’s what this loss felt like. That strangling sense of fear. Of being let go again, heading into another unknown. Only this time it was so much sharper because she’d lost something that mattered. And not just for its familiarity, but because it was profoundly important. Deep in her bones she knew what she had with Derek was irreplaceable.

And she’d discarded it.

Worse, he hated her. That look in his eyes—he’d wanted her gone.

And she didn’t blame him. What a tease. Kissing him, letting him touch her like that.

Giving nothing in return.

She blew out a breath, forced the fear and self-doubt out of her mind. Yes, she’d messed up. Badly. Oh, God,
so
badly. But she was a professional. This was a job. She had to go back out there and work.

Maybe they wouldn’t need her anymore, now that Bax was out of the picture. Pete had done great last night. He didn’t have the same energy, but she suspected, with the encouragement of his friends, if he could get through the next several uncomfortable days, he’d come out the other side. He could be fine.

And then she’d be out of a job.

She’d go back to her farm. She closed her eyes, envisioning the acres of bright color, undulating in a brisk ocean breeze.

But it didn’t flood her with joy. Because she’d lost Derek.

And that was unbearable.

•   •   •

When
she finally came out of the bathroom, his absence hit her as distinctly as if he’d cleared the room of all the furniture, curtains, and carpet. But a strong scent filled the air, and she noticed the tray in front of the table by the window. With a white tablecloth and silver domed plates, it had to be room service. He’d ordered dinner for her?

Or, no, maybe he’d ordered dinner for them, but then she’d gone and ruined it by teasing him mercilessly. She’d let him touch her, but she hadn’t done anything for him.

She hated herself.

Lifting the silver dome, she found a chicken and pasta dish. A single napkin and place setting.

No, he’d done this
after
she’d rejected him.

Where was he? She wanted to throw herself into his arms, apologize for pushing him away. She wanted to let go and just let him love her.

Oh, God, she wanted him back.

What was the
matter
with her?

•   •   •

Tucked
into the banquette seat, alone on the bus, while the band finished their set, Violet’s world crashed around her.

“It’s an eviction notice,” Francesca said.

She drew her knees to her chest, lowered her head, and closed her eyes. “They can’t do that.”

“No, they can’t. And it’s a good thing you hired that attorney because she agrees.” She was thankful for Francesca’s easy tone. It soothed the fear pounding in her veins.

“She said that?”

“She said they’re trying to scare you. They have to prove you took advantage of Jed first, which, of course, they can’t do.”

But what if they could? “You read about stupid rulings in the paper all the time. Every day there’s some judge somewhere that gives three million dollars to a lady who spills hot coffee in her lap.”

“Everyone who knew Jed knew how sharp he was to the end. You’ve got the people of Eden’s Landing, everyone at the nursing home, his doctor. They’re not going to find one person who’ll say he was losing his marbles because he simply wasn’t.”

Violet straightened. “You’re right.” And it’s not like she’d let them take her farm. Not without a fight. “Do I need to come out there? We’re in New Jersey, so I’m not even two and a half hours away. Is there anything I can do?”

“I’d love to have you come out here, but not for that reason. There’s not a thing you can do. It’s in the attorney’s hands right now. This will work out. It’s all in your favor. They’re the ones who have to prove something that just isn’t true.”

“You’re right.” She thought about her farm, the pure peace she felt on it. “I hate that his own kids don’t get what the land meant to him. That they could sell it for the money and then not care that it’s turned into a subdivision. He would hate that, Francesca. He’d hate it.”

“It won’t happen. You don’t need to worry about this. You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to send you a picture of Mimi’s stationery. You’re going to love what she’s been doing.”

“I’d love to see it. Good for you for getting her to come out there.”

“Yes, well, only between interviews. You know how determined she is.”

“I do.”

“She doesn’t know it yet, but she belongs in a more creative world.”

“She’ll figure it out. You know she will.”

“I just want her to figure it out before she goes too far down the wrong path.”

A text came in. “I’d better go. Show’s probably over. We’ll talk soon.”

Fear seized her chest. An
eviction
notice. God.

She opened Emmie’s text.
Show’s about to end.

Violet had avoided Derek all day. She’d never even thanked him for the dinner he’d ordered her. She’d asked Emmie to let her know when the show ended—she didn’t need to watch him onstage, where he became a completely different man than the one she saw in the green room and around the media. The way he sank into the music, lost himself in the groove, was about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

Why did a man who loved music so deeply spend so much time on things that drew him away from it?

Not her concern anymore. She’d made sure of that.

Time to meet the guys backstage.

Violet stood behind a speaker, watching the fans go wild, throwing underwear on the stage—and, oh, yes, at Derek, too, not just Slater.

God, what had she done? Anger, frustration rose up in her. It hurt so badly to know she’d had him—all that intensity focused on her—but she’d pushed him away.

She’d had a man whose gaze set off sirens in her body. A man who seemed to look into her soul and say,
Mine
.

And she’d thrown it away.

She looked at him, at his hot, hard rocker body and gorgeous face, and wanted to beat herself senseless.

“Here they come,” Emmie said beside her.

Violet turned to look at her, but her gaze zipped right past her friend and landed on Genevieve Babineaux.

A wrenching pain gripped her chest. She hadn’t known Gen was coming to this show.

Dressed in skintight jeans, black leather stiletto boots, and a corset-style top that showcased her breasts, she had her sights trained on Derek. Her wine-stained lips and heavily made-up eyes made her look like she was alone with her lover in a bedroom.

He must’ve called her. Asked her to come because he
couldn’t take it anymore. The sexual frustration had to have been killing him.

Of course he had. She’d driven him to that. To calling the woman who could satisfy him.

God, she had only herself to blame. She wanted to disappear, run and hide somewhere.

But she had nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. She had to stand there and take the hurt she’d created.

And, no, it made no difference that she knew she’d done the right thing in pushing him away. For the sake of her career.

Not to her heart anyway.

As the guys came off the stage, the roadies rushed forward to handle load-out. All around her, the hangers-on mobilized. All except Emmie, who held back, waiting. Slater zeroed right in on her, backing her into the wall and kissing the hell out of her. When the two came up for air, she held his head in her hands, tipped her forehead to his, and they talked quietly, just the two of them, locked in an intimacy Violet ached for.

She couldn’t have that. The nature of her job, the nature of
her
. She was just so damn locked down. How did she fix it? If she closed her business, found a steady job on Long Island, commuting distance to the farm, she’d have no excuses not to have a relationship.

But would she feel for someone else what she felt for Derek?

She’d never met anyone like him before.

Oh, stop it.
Stop torturing yourself
. She forced herself to look away from the couple and get back to work.

But in searching for Pete, her gaze landed on
him
. A head taller than anyone else around him, Derek couldn’t be missed.

He made his way toward Gen, who crooked a finger, reeling him in, her silky chestnut hair covering one of her bedroom eyes.

But just before he reached her, his gaze slid over and met Violet’s.

Violet froze. All the noise and movement vanished, leaving her caught in the horrible memory of their last
moment together. When she’d pushed him away for the last time. When he’d told her he couldn’t take it anymore.

Gen leaned into his side, her hand on his chest. Together, they chatted in a small group, everyone laughing, everyone excited.

Except Derek, who looked miserable. She was an idiot. She couldn’t have him, yet she made him feel guilty for being with someone who wanted exactly what he offered. God, she was a selfish fool.

She quickly turned to go, throwing herself back into work mode. She needed to pay attention to Pete. Keep him away from temptation. Moving through the crowd, she couldn’t shake the feel of Derek’s gaze burning into her. She chanced a look back at him, found him heading toward her.

Gen caught his hand, jerked him back to face her. She pressed herself to his front, while both hands came around and squeezed his ass. He pried her arms off him, twisted away, and came after Violet.

She let him, even though her heart thundered in her ears and her legs felt weak and shaky. She stood there and let him come up to her, even though she couldn’t bear to hear his explanation for inviting Gen. For needing Gen. She would let him get it off his chest, so they could get back to working together.

She had no choice.
This is my job. My livelihood.
And, no, it didn’t help to keep reminding herself. Not at all.

He reached her but didn’t speak.

Her blood slowed, her world narrowed to the two of them. She reached for her cool composure, but when he was this close, she just couldn’t find it. She fell into
them
.

“Did you invite her to the show tonight?”
Not fair
. She shouldn’t have asked him.

He nodded.

Of course she’d known that already, but having him confirm it . . . it just sliced deeper into the open wound.

“What did you want me to do? You don’t want me.”

She blinked back stinging tears.
Oh, my God, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

“Look, V, this is all my fault. You never flirted, you never threw yourself at me. It’s me. I pushed too hard.” He
looked away, sighing. “I don’t want to compromise your integrity. I don’t. I’m sorry if . . .” He gestured, stirring air. “I shouldn’t have called her. I was hurt and frustrated . . . and I’m a selfish prick. I am. This is all on me.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Things got out of hand. We got, you know, carried away. Of course you called her. You should be with her.”

“I should be with Gen?”

It sounded so wrong, she couldn’t even answer. Just gazed up into angry, searching eyes.

He stood there, waiting, jaw muscle working furiously. “You want me to fuck Gen tonight? Is that what you want?”

God, no. Of course not. But what could she say?
She
couldn’t have sex with him.

It hurt to breathe. She didn’t fit inside her skin. Nothing felt right, nothing.

This was a job. Derek was a client. He was at the beginning of his career. A career that would keep him on the road and in the studio. While she would be on her farm. So even if she could get past her rule of not getting involved with clients, even if she could cast aside her sense of business ethics, she still didn’t see a future for them. At all.

Okay, this was better. Clearer. She forced air into her lungs, felt her head clear just a little. She lifted a hand to his jaw. “I want you to be happy. Honestly, that’s all I want.”

“And what if it’s you that makes me happy?”

The shock of his words to her heart made her nerves sting.
You make me happy, too.
The man was relentless, and she
loved
it. Needed it. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him not to give up on her.

But she couldn’t do that. “I wish it could be that simple.” Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

So, ignoring the viselike grip on her heart, she forced herself to turn and walk away.

•   •   •

The
moment she heard the elevator ding and male voices approach the suite, Violet poured the chicken broth into the pot and turned the burner on.

A key card in the door had her shoving the seasoned steaks under the broiler.

“Pete here?” Ben asked as they came in.

Not what she wanted to hear. “He’s supposed to be with you.” When she’d left the arena, she’d made sure he was in their care.

“Shit,” Cooper said, looking worried. “Let me text Derek.”

“Better leave Derek alone.” She wished she hadn’t sounded so bitter, but God. Knowing what he was doing with Gen just then . . . it made her sick to her stomach.

“Maybe Pete’s with him,” Ben said.

“No, he’s not.” She shut off the flame under the pan of mushrooms and onions, gave it a final stir, and then whacked the spatula against the side of the pan to remove the pieces stuck to it.
Way to act calm and natural.

“Gen’s in town,” Cooper said quietly.

“Sorry.” Ben flashed her an apologetic look.

She could not believe she was making the guys uncomfortable. She rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing happening between me and Derek. Do we like each other? Yes. But we’re not . . . together. In any way. Never have been. I wouldn’t do that. This is my job.”

When Cooper’s brows rose, and Ben broke out in a smile, Violet realized she might’ve been protesting too hard. “Oh, cut it out. I said I like him. But he should be with Gen. That’s the kind of woman he likes. And I’ll be . . . I won’t be with you guys much longer.”

Without a word, Ben came right up to her, wrapped her in his arms, and patted her back. Then he pulled away and inhaled deeply. “Steak?”

She nodded.

“Fuckin’ A.” He reached into the pan and snatched some mushrooms. She batted his hand away, but not before he’d dropped them into his mouth. “You’re the best.”

“Why don’t you guys see if you can find Pete?” She wished they hadn’t lost track of him, but they probably figured he was fine now that Bax was out of the picture.
Wrong.

“You worried?” Ben asked.

“He was totally sober last time I saw him,” Cooper said.

Waiting for the broth to come to a boil, she sprinkled
salt into the pot. “He’s not sober, Cooper. If he were still sober, he’d be with you. So I think you need to get everyone involved in finding him.”

“I’m texting Derek.”

He won’t answer.
Derek had invited Gen, so he’d likely gotten them a separate room.

She had to let it go. It was done. She’d made her decision—the right one—and now she was fully back in work mode.

No more sleepovers with Derek.

A terrible thought seized her chest. Would they continue to pose as a couple? That would mean she’d have to hold his hand, sit on his lap, continue the charade that had once thrilled her and would now absolutely destroy her. No, no. Of course not. The press would love the fact he’d dumped her and gone back to Gen.

Oh, God.
Stop.
Focus on Pete.

Voices murmured outside the door, female laughter. And then everyone turned to watch Slater and Emmie come in.

“You seen Pete?” Ben asked.

The peaceful contentment slid off their faces. “No. When was the last time you saw him?” Slater asked.

“He was with us in the green room, and then when we were gonna head back here, we couldn’t find him anywhere. We figured he’d already come back.”

“I thought Violet said you guys were watching him?” Emmie rested her hands on the kitchen counter. “She only came back to the hotel because he was with you.”

They both looked chastised.

“You
guys
,” Emmie said.

“Who’ve you contacted so far?” Slater whipped his phone out of his back pocket.

“I just texted Derek,” Ben said.

“Should we head back to the amphitheater?” Emmie asked.

Slater shook his head. “Let’s get everyone on the case. I’m texting Vince.”

“I’ll get some of the other roadies,” Cooper said.

As the guys texted, Emmie gave her a smile. “Smells good.”

“Thanks. They wanted steaks, so I made a salad and
polenta to go with them.” She reached for Emmie’s hand. “Don’t worry, Em. It’s always like this. They always take a few steps back. It’s okay.”

Slater’s phone buzzed and he opened the text. “Yep. Vince says he’s with him on the roadie bus.”

“Fucker,” Ben said. “Should’ve told us.”

The broth boiled, and Violet added the polenta, stirring constantly. “You might want to make sure Vince brings Pete back to the hotel himself. He shouldn’t trust him to come here on his own.”

“On it.” Slater focused on the keypad, his hair falling into his eyes. He was such a strikingly gorgeous man, but it was the way he loved Emmie that had Violet softening every time she was around him. He glanced up, stowing his phone in his back pocket. “Okay, it’s all good.” He gave his girl a soft smile. “I’m going to shower before we eat.” Then he looked to Violet. “How much time do I have?”

“I’m flipping the steaks soon. So twelve, fifteen minutes?”

A slow, wickedly sexy grin spread across his features as he looked at his girl. “I can work with that.”

Emmie couldn’t hide her smile as hard as she seemed to be trying.

“You guys are disgusting,” Cooper said.

“I really didn’t need to know what’s going down in that shower,” Ben said as the two headed off to their bedroom.

•   •   •

Half
an hour later, Slater checked his phone and then dug back into his steak. “Derek’s here.”

Dread slammed her like a fist. No way could she just sit there while he sauntered in, having been satisfied in every way by the hot, sexy, and completely uninhibited Genevieve Babineaux. God, no. She got up from the table and brought her plate to the sink. It wasn’t like she’d eaten anything anyway. No, her stomach had been squeezed as tightly as a rubberband ball.

The moment she heard the door open, she stuck her head in the refrigerator.

Nice.
Super mature.

“Fuck Gen, you look like sex on a stick.”

“Aw, aren’t you sweet, Coop.”

“Sex on a stick?”
Ben said. “Maybe that’s why you don’t get girls like Gen.”

“And maybe one day you’ll know the difference between a girl and a woman,” Coop said. “And then you won’t be stuck with your hand the rest of your life.”

The guys laughed. Violet squeezed her eyes shut against the pain. She wanted to lock herself in the bedroom, hide in the shower stall, and beat her head against the tile. Instead, she’d have to sit with them. Watch Gen play with his hair while she sat on his lap until Pete finally got back to the suite.

She
wanted to be with him. On his lap, his hand tucked between her thighs. And, oh, God, she’d never get to feel that again.

Only knowing she’d made the right choice got her face out of that refrigerator. Imagining Irwin finding out she’d slept with a band member straightened her spine.

Word getting out that she’d had sex with a client would kill her business. And then what would she have? She’d never earn enough working as a clerk in a shop to pay her lease.