He nodded and returned his gaze to Linda. “You know where I stand. Make it work. That’s what you’re getting paid for.”
Frank wasn’t kind today. I hadn’t seen this harsh side of him yet, and while I didn’t like it, I knew where this animosity was coming from. The fear of failure had pushed him over the edge. He snapped at people for no apparent reason. Even Janet had been in the line of fire all afternoon.
The stylist shut off the blow dryer and stepped back to evaluate. Truth be told, I didn’t know why Frank needed someone to mess with his hair. He looked great and he was going to turn into a sweaty mess after three songs anyway.
His stage outfit differed from last night’s. He wore a pair of tight black pants and boots. His shirt had strategically-placed rips on his chest, abs, and back to give the audience a little peek of what was underneath.
Corey was tapping out an email. The intense thrum of his fingers against the MacBook’s keyboard matched the light rattle coming from the makeup station as the stylist began to put away some of her items.
Face hard, Frank slid from the chair and rolled his shoulders. His chest rose with his inhale, stretching the fabric across his pecs. Phone clutched in my hand, I watched. My heart thundered. There was something extremely primal about him today. Something dark and dangerous. Just like the night he took me for a ride in the mountains and then fucked me on his dining table. I adored that filthy side of him. Adored it to the point of physical pain.
“I didn’t tell you”—Frank spun to face me, his gunmetal blues capturing my gaze—“but I invited Isabella and her mother to tonight’s show.”
“Oh.” His confession rendered me speechless for a second. I hadn’t expected him to get this involved. “I bet they’re over the moon.”
“I hope so.” He let out a nervous laugh and approached me. His hands reached for mine, and I stood. We were mere inches apart and his heat started to consume me. He took all the air from my lungs. Being calm next to him when he was like this, sexed up for the stage, was impossible.
Frank dropped his mouth to my ear and whispered, “Did I tell you how gorgeous you look in this dress?”
I shook my head, my voice lost in my throat.
His broad palms encircled my waist. “I can’t wait to take it off after we’re done.”
A light burn spread between my thighs. While I knew Frank’s words were only for me and no one else could hear him, he said them with everyone in the room, as if he needed to make a statement.
“I can’t wait for you to take it off,” I uttered quietly, head dizzy. A small part of me wasn’t sure he’d be fit for anything after the set, but I wanted to give him what he craved—hope that last night wouldn’t be repeating itself. Hope that today’s show would be great.
A knock snapped us out of our delirium. Smiling, Frank took a step back, his heat still a kindled flame on my skin and a maddening blaze in my chest. His fingertips slid over my knuckles softly as our hands parted. The door swung open and Isabella’s wheelchair rolled into the dressing room. Hair teased and rock concert-ready, she pushed through with a big grin on her face. Maria and Brooklyn strode in next, then handshakes and hugs took place. The room came alive with a blend of laughter—Isabella’s throaty and confident and Frank’s deep and rich. I stood aside and listened to their banter. My heart was full and happy and I felt the same way I’d felt that morning. I felt love. And it was terrifying.
My gaze swung over to Brooklyn. She seemed content with the outcome of this short meetup while, eyes wide, Maria watched her daughter talking to a man who was about to perform in front of twenty thousand people. I could only imagine what was going on in Maria’s head right now. She looked both flustered and shocked.
Frank had that effect on people.
“Did Brooklyn show you your seats already?” he checked with Isabella.
“Yes. Thank you so much for inviting us.”
“Of course. I hope you enjoy the show.”
Brooklyn signaled for Frank to wrap it up. The woman ran a very tight schedule.
Another knock came. It was Dante. Hat on, shirt half-tucked in, jeans alluringly low on his hips, he was stage ready. The glint in his eyes told me the man might be buzzed.
He marched over to Isabella and dipped down in front of her. “Hola, mija. ¿Cómo estás?”
“Muy bien.” Isabella grinned. Unlike her mother, she wasn’t easily intimidated by famous people. “¿Y tu?”
He curled his fingers into a fist and they bumped knuckles.
“I don’t think we’ve met officially. I’m Dante. I heard some of your singing. You’re pretty good.” A cocky, ‘cool uncle’ smirk lingered on his lips.
“You’re not bad yourself.”
Dante shook his head and the smile lines around his eyes grew deeper. “¿De dónde eres?”
They carried on their conversation.
I’d never heard Dante speak Spanish before. He hardly had any accent. In the past, I’d sometimes wondered if he actually knew the language or was simply flaunting his Hispanic heritage to win over the huge Latin American fan base that Hall Affinity had amassed. But now I knew Dante wasn’t cheating.
“Don’t let this guy fool ya.” Frank patted his back. It was a light, brotherly tap. “He’s not as nice as he seems.”
A smirk touched Isabella’s lips. “Nice guys don’t sell rock ’n’ roll.” She returned her gaze to Dante. “Am I right?”
“Damn right, kiddo.” He stood and shot Frank a covert glance. “We’d love to keep chatting, but we’ve got a show to get ready for. How about we talk some other time? Maybe when Frankie comes over to see you play, I’ll tag along.”
Hands were shook. Goodbyes were said. Brooklyn left with Maria and Isabella to show them to their box. Corey ushered the stylist out and asked one of the security guards to let Bruce know they needed him for the final show rundown. Dante sat on the edge of the makeup station and played with his hat while the doctor checked Frank’s vitals.
“Blood pressure is a little low. Did you take your medication?”
Face grim, Frank nodded.
“He’s not going to pass out again, is he, doc?” Dante questioned.
“If he doesn’t overdo it, he should be fine.”
There was a frustrated groan. “We’re about to play a goddamn rock show, doc. What about Adderall?”
I shot Dante a warning look. He was getting overly creative.
“Adderall will interact with his pain medication,” the physician countered, taking the cuff off. “It’s not advisable.”
Frank stood and his gaze intercepted mine. His shoulders were tense, jaw set. Suddenly, I couldn’t read him. Sometimes he had these moments when he checked out, when he was far away. When his body was present, but his mind wasn’t. Right now, I was witnessing one of those moments.
I heard a knock. Next thing I knew, Bruce, Carter, and Johnny poured into the dressing room. Their voices meshed into one anxiety-ridden drawl.
“Hey, doll.” Frank walked over to me and ran his palm along the curve of my spine. “Give us fifteen minutes.” His whisper set my cheek ablaze.
“Sure.” I nodded.