A childlike plea followed next. “But come back, okay?” Hand still around my waist, he led me to the door, which closed after I stepped outside. I gave a small smile to Roman, who was standing to my right.
“How are you today?”
“I’m great. How are you, Ms. Evans?”
“You really need to stop calling me that.” I shook my head. Everyone who worked for Frank was so official, you’d think he was a senator, not a rock singer.
In the lounge, guests were pleasantly buzzed. Background music blasted. Conversations were in high gear, loud and passionate. A few notable faces were scattered throughout the crowd. Chin up, I walked over to the bar and ordered a margarita. While waiting for the drink, I checked Shayne’s article. Levi hadn’t touched it. Disappointment and annoyance crept up into my chest. No doubt they were going to reside there indefinitely.
“Cassy!” someone called the second I got my hands on my drink. I spun around and came face to face with Linda. “What a surprise seeing you here.” She didn’t sound surprised, though. She sounded alarmed.
I didn’t know how to respond to that. Linda was my friend. We had developed both a professional and a personal relationship over the course of the past few years. Yet I couldn’t tell her anything. Not a word. Instead, I smiled and checked my phone. Frank had said fifteen minutes. Seven more to go.
“I know it’s not my business”—Linda lowered her voice—“but I have to ask you.” Her gaze drilled into mine. “Is there something I need to know about you and Frank?”
Then I felt it. A rock in my throat. The woman had just put me on the damn spot.
“Cassy?” Her thin brows slid up her forehead. Professional, tight-lipped smile intact.
I swallowed. “What makes you think that?”
Her lips spread wider to show her teeth. “I’ve been doing this too long, dear. You don’t think I can’t tell the brunette on those photos TMZ posted is you?”
I drew a slow, deep breath through my nose and counted to three. My dress stretched against my strapless bra. I hadn’t worn anything this girly and open in years. Tonight, I’d done it for Frank. He made me want to look sexy and cute, but right now, I felt naked under Linda’s assessment.
“Besides, Taylor Rhinehart is seeing Charlie Conroy.”
“Get out of here. Are you serious? Isn’t he married?”
“Separated. This is all hush-hush because he’s trying to get full custody of his kids.” Linda broke eye contact to scan the lounge. Her lips kept moving. “But I didn’t tell you any of that.”
“Of course, but…really?” For a moment there, my own problems seemed dull compared to the pickle Frankie’s alleged love interest had gotten herself into. My brain needed time to process the biggest Hollywood secret. Charlie Conroy was an A-list actor. I would have never thought he’d fancy someone like Taylor Rhinehart. She didn’t seem to be his type. But what did I know about the workings of the movie industry? I only dated a rock star.
“You don’t have to worry.” Linda touched my shoulder and her eyes met mine. “Your secret’s safe with me. Frank is a client. It’s my job to keep his public affairs in order and to make him look good. I’m just concerned about you. If this comes out—and trust me, it will—you and your family will take a beating.”
“Why don’t I like the sound of that?” I brought my margarita to my mouth and took a swallow.
“It’s what fame does, dear.”
I dropped my gaze to my drink and stared at the colored liquid for a few seconds, frowning. A clamor arose from the arena, growing louder. It was a wall of noise, a force against my eardrums, the sound of my life as I knew it cracking.
My mind blanked.
“Cassy,” Linda called me out of my daze. “I want to make sure you’re ready for the fallout when things get tough. Your name will be under a lot of scrutiny. Rewired will be under a lot of scrutiny.”
Was Frank worth it? “I understand. I’m ready.” I plastered a smile on my face. It was too late to back out. I’d said something to him today I never thought I would.
He was asleep, Cassy, my voice laughed. It didn’t count.
Sure, it did. It was practice.
“Okay. You have my number.” Linda touched my shoulder again before taking off.
Confused and puzzled, I stood near the bar and sipped on my margarita until my eyes registered Carter’s mop of blond hair moving among the guests. That was my cue to leave.
I returned to the dressing room, where Frank sat in his tall chair facing the mirror. Alone. Head tossed back, palms curled around the slim wooden chair arms, he stared at the ceiling. His knee jerked to the beat of the Iron Maiden song playing in the background.
As I approached him, I drank in his reflection. He was enthralling. A fine combination of what every woman here tonight wanted. Sexy. Confident. Charming. He was the ultimate guy next door who’d made it. Proof that ambition and desire to be the best could take you to the top. He was the American Dream.
I was hardly a social drinker, and the alcohol had already started to course through my blood. A pleasant daze tickled my brain.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, eyes never leaving Frank’s reflection.
“Yes.” He nodded and slid from the chair. His height against mine was an intimidating power. Our gazes collided and I was suddenly aware of his every breath and his every move. Electricity filled the air.
He dipped down and whispered in my ear, “Take off your panties, doll.”
I swallowed hard and watched him walk over to the door to lock it. My head spun. The icy glass chilled my palm.
After making sure no one was going to accidentally walk in on us, Frank turned to face me. “Take them off.” The corner of his lips tilted up.
I felt the burn. Beneath my skin and in my chest. My mind and my ovaries fought one another. I’d already established Frank was far from boring during sex. For a man who was limited with how much weight he could put on his right shoulder, he was creative enough to make me sweat every time. I knew what this was, a less reckless way to get his adrenaline fix. The chances of breaking bones while fucking were sufficiently lower than while riding a motorcycle.
“Are you sure it’s safe to do this before the show?” I croaked, shuffling my feet. The delicate fabric of my Victoria Secret underwear between my thighs dampened. Boy, was I a goner!
He crossed the dressing room and nudged me in the direction of the makeup station. My drink tipped, but he steadied it right before the liquid reached the spilling point. “We’re not going to fuck.”
“We’re not?” I rested my free palm on his pec and started walking backward. His body vibrated under my touch, chest tight like a snare, pulse raging.
“Not until after.” Tossing me a self-serving grin, he took another step and pulled the glass from my grip.
“But you want me to take off my panties now?”
“Yes, because if I do it instead, you won’t have any panties left to wear while you’re watching the show.”
He was playing one of his games. I played along.
“Okay, so this is only temporary? You actually don’t want me to be butt naked all night?” My back hit the makeup station.