24
SCARLETT
Take a Bow
Scarlett eased the bathroom door open and stuck her head out, looking both ways to make sure the coast was clear. Viggo was right behind her, his warm breath tickling her skin as he playfully nipped her earlobe.
Giggling breathlessly, she grabbed his hand and led him down the hallway and around the corner to the band’s dressing room.
She stepped through the door and came to an abrupt halt, causing Viggo to run into her. He caught her as she stumbled forward, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring across the room in stunned disbelief.
Her bandmates stood in a circle talking to the last man on earth she’d ever wanted to see again.
Myles Katsaros.
Rotten. Fucking. Bastard.
He was smiling and laughing, chatting up her bandmates as if he had every right to be there. Worse, the guys were yukking it up with him, just a bunch of dudebros catching up on old times.
It felt like an epic betrayal. Seriously.
Although Scarlett didn’t consider herself a particularly violent person, she’d concocted this little fantasy of what would happen if her bandmates ever crossed paths with Myles again. In her revenge fantasy, the fellas would confront their former manager like a pack of bloodthirsty wolves surrounding their prey. When Myles remained defiantly unrepentant, the guys would pounce on him, kicking and stomping the shit out of him like gangsters in a mobster movie.
But that wasn’t what was happening here. Not only were the fellas not pulverizing Myles, they seemed almost happy to see him.
So much for loyalty, Scarlett fumed in disgust. So much for having her back and defending her honor.
Traeger was the first to glance toward the doorway. His smile vanished as soon as he saw her standing there, glaring at them with the rage of Medusa. If she could have turned them all to stone, she would have.
Traeger stood straighter and cleared his throat to get the others’ attention. They followed the direction of his gaze. When they saw Scarlett, an oh shit look came over their faces.
“Uh, hey, Scarlett,” Zander said awkwardly. “Look who’s here.”
Jaw clenched, she looked at Myles. He was staring at her, his dark eyes moving up and down her body with an appreciative gleam.
The way he looked at her used to make her feel special, like a rare prize he’d just won. But that was all she’d ever been to him. A sparkling prize.
A shiny toy he could play with and discard on a whim.
A budding starlet with the potential to become a cash cow.
She’d never been truly special to him. So now his admiring gaze just made her skin crawl.
He was still good-looking, though not as irresistibly handsome as she remembered. He had deep-set dark eyes and glossy black hair brushed straight back from a broad forehead. He was Greek, so he’d been blessed with smooth olive skin and strong Mediterranean features. He was just under six feet, and his designer suit was tailored to accentuate his trim physique.
He gave Scarlett one of those snake-oil-salesman smiles she’d once mistaken for charming. “Hey, baby girl.”
“Myles,” she gritted through clenched teeth.
“I’m in town on business and heard you guys were performing tonight. So I decided to stop by and say hello.”
“How nice of you.” Scarlett forced herself to move forward. Viggo was close on her heels, tension thrumming off his big body.
“You’re looking good.” Myles’s gaze flicked derisively over her shoulder. “I see you decided to hire a bodyguard.”
She bristled. “He’s—”
“Viggo Sandström,” Viggo introduced himself, reaching around Scarlett to grip Myles’s hand in an iron handshake. When Myles winced, she felt a twinge of petty satisfaction.
“I’m the boyfriend.” Viggo’s eyes slid over Scarlett, a look so hot and possessive that she actually shivered. “But I’m good with guarding her body, too.”
Oh my damn, Scarlett thought as Myles’s lips tightened with displeasure. He looked from Viggo to her, then back to Viggo. “So what do you do?”
“He plays for the Denver Rebels,” Scarlett answered.
Myles furrowed his brow. “Is that a football team?”
“Hockey.” Viggo looked more amused than offended.
“Oh, my bad,” Myles said with dismissive condescension. “I don’t watch hockey. No offense, but I’ve never really understood the appeal.”
“Speak for yourself.” Gage thrust his hand toward Viggo. “Great to meet you, man. I’m a huge fan.”
Viggo smiled, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you. Gage, right?”
“Right.” Gage grinned, clearly starstruck. “Congratulations on your All-Star selection. Fucking awesome.”
“Thanks, man. Great show tonight. Really enjoyed it.”
“Thanks, Viggo. Appreciate that.” Gage’s boyish delight was adorable.
Scarlett introduced Viggo to the rest of her bandmates. For guys who claimed not to like hockey, they sure seemed pretty impressed with Viggo. As they laughed and joked around with him, Scarlett could feel Myles checking her out again, taking in every curve of her body. And once again her skin crawled like she was covered with spiders.
Traeger grinned mischievously at Viggo. “So where’d you guys disappear to after the show?”
“None of your business,” Scarlett interjected.
Viggo chuckled and curved his hand over her hip, tugging her closer to him. It was an unmistakably possessive gesture that had Myles narrowing his eyes. When she looked over her shoulder at Viggo, she saw him staring her ex-lover down with an icy glare that could freeze an ocean.
Whoa, big daddy.
“So, Scarlett,” Myles said with an edge, reclaiming her attention, “the fellas were just telling me that you guys will be appearing on Jimmy Kimmel Live. That’s great. Congratulations.”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” he added smugly, “if I were still your manager, I would’ve had you guys on Saturday Night Live by now.”
“Really?” Scarlett tapped a finger to her lips. “How many of your bands have appeared on SNL?”
His smug expression faltered.
She smirked. “That’s what I thought.”
The skin around his mouth tightened. “My clients are doing very well—”
“Good for them.” She shifted her attention to her bandmates. “Nadia and Reid are waiting for us, so we’re heading out.”
Gage’s eyes lit up. “Dude, you gotta introduce me to The Rocket.”
She chuckled. “Of course.”
“I was hoping to take you guys to dinner,” Myles interjected, giving them an oily smile. “For old times’ sake.”
Scarlett shot him a “fuck off and die” look. “We have other plans.”
“That’s too bad.” He looked at the others. “What about you guys? You up for a nice juicy steak?”
Scarlett glared at her bandmates. They hedged, looking torn.
Un-fucking-believable.
Hurt and disgusted, she muttered to Viggo, “Let’s go.”
He nodded to her bandmates. “Nice meeting you, fellas.”
“You too, Viggo,” they chorused.
“Good luck the rest of the season,” Gage added. “I’ll be tuning in.”
“Thanks, man.” Viggo shot Myles one last lethal glare before steering Scarlett out of the dressing room, his grip firm around her waist.
They started down the hallway, passing several people who congratulated Scarlett on a good show. She could hear laughter and loud voices coming from Black Kross’s dressing room. Soon they would be hitting the stage to close out the tour. Now that Leo Harry was on Viggo’s shit list, she hoped they wouldn’t run into him. There was no telling what Viggo might do in his present mood.
As they rounded the corner, he suddenly grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the bathroom they’d just christened. He rapped his knuckles on the door, then tried the knob. When it turned in his hand, he shoved the door open and pulled her into the empty room.
As he closed and locked the door behind them, she stared up at him. “What’re you—”
“He’s the one, isn’t he?” Viggo growled, caging her against the counter with his arms. “He’s the bastard who hurt you.”
She clenched her jaw, swallowed hard and nodded.
“Jesus, baby. How old were you when you got involved with him?”
She hesitated. “I was twenty.”
“What the fuck?” Viggo snarled furiously. “You were still in college.”
“Yeah. I was a junior.” She sniffed the air. “Do you smell weed?”
“Don’t try to change the subject.” Viggo glared at her, all pissed-off Alpha male. “Where did you meet that son of a bitch?”
She sighed, lifting her gaze to the ceiling. “We’d just formed the band and started doing local gigs. Myles saw us perform at a bar and thought we had potential, so he offered to be our manager.” She shook her head, haunted by old regrets. “I know I shouldn’t have gotten involved with him. I was young and dumb, but that’s no excuse.”
“He was your fucking manager,” Viggo growled fiercely. “He should have known better.”
“Yeah, well, he didn’t,” she said bitterly.
“What the hell did he do to you?”
She let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
Viggo caught her face between his hands, peering deeply into her eyes. “Are you still in love with him?”
“No.” Her tone was firm, emphatic. “I never loved him. Not the way—” She stopped herself from saying, Not the way I’ve always loved you.
Viggo searched her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. “Not the way what?”
She swallowed and looked away for a moment. “I was infatuated with Myles. He was charming and charismatic, and he made a lot of promises. Not just to me, but to all of us. I didn’t realize what a complete bastard he was until it was too late.”
Viggo stared down at her, his eyes blazing with such fury she felt a chill. “I’m gonna rip his fucking heart out.”
“Good luck finding it,” she said with a sardonic twist of her lips. “I don’t think he has one.”
Viggo wasn’t amused. The intensity of his anger was a little terrifying. It was also pretty hot, if she was being honest. But she didn’t want to be responsible for getting the love of her life locked up for murder.
So she curled her arms around his neck and pressed her body along the rigid length of his. “I know you have more questions about Myles, but can we table this conversation for another time? You came here tonight to surprise me, and we have good news to celebrate. So let’s just enjoy our evening, okay? Don’t let Myles ruin our time together. Believe me, he’s not worth it.”
Viggo stared at her from under his lashes, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
She leaned forward and caught his mouth with hers, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth so she could suck and nibble. She felt a little shiver run through him and smiled.
“We don’t have to stay for Black Kross’s show,” she murmured, threading her fingers through his hair. “I mean, I want to stay. But I know you don’t trust yourself not to charge the stage and kick Leo’s ass—”
Viggo’s lips turned up just the slightest bit.
“—so let’s go find Reid and Nadia and head out to dinner. I know some great restaurants nearby. After dinner we’ll go back to our hotel room and take a long, steamy shower. You love showering with me, don’t you? Of course you do,” she purred wickedly when she felt his cock twitch in his jeans. “After our shower we’ll put on some sexy slow jams, rub each other down with oil and take turns giving each other massages. Swedish massages, obviously. Then we’ll spend the rest of the night celebrating what a phenomenal All-Star you are.” She smiled as she trailed one finger over his defined pecs, outlining them before drawing a letter in the center of his chest. “C is for Captain Sandström.”
He responded by drawing a letter over her heart, gazing deeply into her eyes as he whispered, “V is for Viggo. As in you’re mine, and you always will be.”
* **
Viggo and reid rose at the crack of dawn and drove back to Columbus to join their team for the flight back to Denver.
After kissing their men goodbye, Scarlett and Nadia showered and got dressed, then headed downstairs together to take advantage of the hotel’s complimentary breakfast. After Viggo came up with the plan to surprise Scarlett in Cincinnati, Nadia had changed her plane ticket to fly back home with Scarlett. Their flight left at three o’clock that afternoon.
Just as they finished eating breakfast, Scarlett’s bandmates came trudging through the door. After a night of drinking and partying with groupies, they were completely wasted. Unwashed, with uncombed hair and stubble on their faces, they sluggishly navigated their way around the food stations, filling their plates and pouring themselves coffee.
Nadia followed the direction of Scarlett’s glare and grinned. “Guess that’s my cue to head back up to my room to finish packing.”
Scarlett scowled. “You don’t have to run off.”
“Yes, I do. I’m not getting in the middle of this.” Nadia rose from the table, gathered up their empty plates and grinned at Scarlett. “Go easy on them.”
Scarlett grunted as she watched her bandmates head in her direction. They stopped to hug Nadia and chat her up for a few minutes. As she moved on, they all turned their heads to stare at her ass in her leggings.
Scarlett rolled her eyes at them as they approached her table. They set their plates down, plopped into the empty chairs around her and grunted greetings.
“What happened to our wakeup call?” Ryu asked jokingly.
“I got your wakeup call right here,” she snarled, flipping them the double bird.
This drew startled laughs and exclamations. “Damn, what was that for?”
“Like you don’t know!” Scarlett glared around the table. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you assholes after the way you were buddying up with Myles last night. I can’t believe you actually had dinner—”
“We didn’t,” Traeger interrupted her rant.
She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t have dinner with him?”
“Nope.” Traeger shoveled a forkful of waffle into his mouth. “After you left, we told him we were staying for Black Kross’s show and then going to their wrap party.”
“Oh, man, you shoulda been there,” Zander raved to Scarlett. “They booked the penthouse suite and had unlimited booze, a buffet and a DJ. It was lit!”
“Yeah, you missed out, Scar,” Ryu said. “A lot of people were asking about you, and I think Leo was kinda bummed that you weren’t there. I mean, you stayed for their show and took pictures with everyone, but I guess he was hoping to see you at the party, too.”
“Minus Viggo.” Traeger laughed. “Holy shit, did you see the way they were glaring at each other when you introduced them after the show? Viggo looked like he was gonna fuck Leo up!”
“No kidding.” Ryu grinned. “I just hope Leo won’t act like a little bitch and renege on our collaboration.”
“He won’t. Not if he wants me to do that song with him. Anyway,” Scarlett grumbled, “I’m still pissed at you guys for bromancing Myles. What the fuck?”
“We weren’t bromancing him,” Gage protested.
“Sure as hell looked like it,” she retorted. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you guys were happy to see him.”
They exchanged guilty glances. No one spoke.
“Oh my God.” Scarlett swept an incredulous look around the table. “You were happy to see him!”
“No, we weren’t,” Ryu said defensively. “We were more surprised than happy. We haven’t seen him in years, and you know how charming he can be. I mean, yeah, he totally screwed up with you. But he’s still a likable guy.”
“About as likable as a fucking snake in the grass.” Scarlett was outraged. “How can you sit there and use ‘Myles’ and ‘likable’ in the same sentence after what he did?”
“Because it’s true,” Traeger spoke up. “He is likable. See, that’s something you’ve never wanted to admit, Scarlett. Just because he was a terrible boyfriend doesn’t mean he was a terrible manager. Like I told you before, he’s doing good things for his clients—”
“And Cara isn’t?” Scarlett challenged. “Do I need to break out a list of all the things she’s done for us?”
“Sure. Let’s talk about that list,” Traeger fired back. “Just off the top of my head, I can name three things Cara doesn’t deserve credit for. One: She doesn’t deserve credit for sending us on tour with Black Kross. Why? Because their booking agent called her to invite us on tour, not the other way around. Two: We got booked on Jimmy Kimmel because one of his producers saw us perform and wanted to have us on the show. Three: We’re collaborating with Black Kross because you’re an amazing singer and drummer, and Leo wants to bone you. Those are just a few examples of Cara serving as a middleman and nothing more.”
“What about all those gigs and festivals she’s scored for us?” Scarlett countered hotly. “Splendour in the Grass is a major music festival. Do you honestly think we could have gotten that on our own?”
“Maybe not, but scoring big gigs is a piece of cake for Myles. His bands do Coachella every year. Not only that, but he’s gotten several of them signed to a record label, and Darth Patriot has won an AMA and scored two Grammy noms. They’re doing a helluva lot better than we are, and we’ve been around longer.” Traeger shook his head at Scarlett. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, but Myles would have taken us farther than Cara ever will.”
“Yeah? Well, guess what? Myles isn’t our manager anymore.”
“Thanks to you,” Traeger retorted.
Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Traeger stared down at his plate, a muscle flexing in his cheek. “If you hadn’t slept with Myles, he’d still be our manager.”
The words hit her like a slap in the face. As a wave of fury washed through her, she leaned across the table and spoke in a deadly quiet voice, “Is that what you think, Traeger? You think it’s my fault that Myles ditched us?”
Defiant blue eyes lifted to hers. “You’re the one who fucked him and complicated things. So, yeah, it is your fault.”
Feeling bitch-slapped for the second time, Scarlett sat back slowly in her chair and looked around the table. “Is that how the rest of you feel? Do you blame me for forcing Myles out? Do you see me as the dumb little cunt who spread her legs and messed up the good thing we had?”
“Of course not,” Gage mumbled. But he wouldn’t look at her.
Neither would anyone else.
Scarlett was so hurt she could barely breathe. She fought to hold on to her control, fought not to cry. Fought not to scream.
“You’re right, Traeger,” she said with icy calm. “It is my fault that Myles left, but not for the reason you think. See, even after he screwed me over, I was still willing to work with him. Since I was the one who’d made the horrible mistake of getting involved with our manager, I knew it wouldn’t be fair to make the rest of you suffer for my bad judgment. So I decided to put on my big girl panties and swallow my pride for the sake of the band. I’d learned the hard way not to mix business with pleasure, and I swore it would never happen again. But Myles had other ideas. Even after all the bullshit he’d put me through, he still expected me to keep sleeping with him. But that’s not all. He wanted me to leave you guys and join another group he was forming.”
Her bandmates exchanged stunned glances.
She smirked. “Shocking, isn’t it? Turns out the man you think so highly of wasn’t as loyal to you as you are to him. Myles thought you guys were talented but not ready for prime time. He said you didn’t have what it takes to become a hit band, and he urged me to get out before it was too late. I went fucking ballistic,” she said with renewed fury. “I called him everything but a child of God and told him he was wrong about you guys. I told him we would become successful without him, and someday he would eat his fucking words.” She glared around the table. “I showed that son of a bitch the door because he didn’t believe in us, not because I was a woman scorned.”
Her bandmates looked downright furious.
“You should have told us,” Traeger snarled. “You should have fucking told us.”
“You’re right. I should have. I realize that now. But I didn’t want to hurt you. Myles was already out of the picture, so what was the point of telling you what he really thought of you? We were so young and you guys had him on such a high pedestal. I didn’t have the heart to tell you the truth. It would have devastated you. It would have shaken your confidence and made you doubt yourselves. I couldn’t let that happen, and I didn’t want to give that motherfucker the satisfaction of splitting us up when we were just getting started.” Her voice thickened with bitterness. “So, yeah, I called myself trying to protect you. And, yeah, I thought I deserved your loyalty more than Myles. Because we were best friends, and we had history. So I hoped my presence would mean more to you than his absence.”
“It does mean more,” the guys insisted.
“I wish I still believed that.” Tears threatened, but Scarlett willed them away. As the only female member of the band, she couldn’t afford to be a crybaby. She couldn’t afford to show weakness at such a critical moment.
“You guys seem to think Cara is holding us back. Which means, by extension, I’m holding us back given that I’m the one who found her.”
Traeger scowled. “I never said—”
“While we’re on the subject of what’s holding us back, maybe you guys would be better off with a male drummer—a white male drummer. And a white lead singer, also preferably male. Maybe Off The Grid would have made it by now if we looked more like the majority of other bands.”
There was a collective groan. “C’mon, Scarlett—”
“As you guys know,” she continued with frosty detachment, “I’ve been going over the books with Cara and crunching numbers. The good news is that we’re selling more merch than ever, and our record sales are going up on each release. Unfortunately, as we all feared, our operating expenses exceeded our revenue this year, so we don’t have enough money to cover our recording fees. I was thinking about biting the bullet and asking my father for another loan. But you know what? Maybe it’s for the best that we don’t have the money to record another album. We had a good run, fellas, but maybe it’s time for us to go our separate ways.”
Alarmed looks swept around the table.
“Jesus Christ, Scarlett,” Gage exclaimed. “You can’t be fucking serious!”
“I am.” The knot in her throat swelled. “I’ve never been more serious in my—”
“Good morning.”
Everyone whipped around to see Myles standing over their table. He’d appeared like a shadow, and his predatory smile reminded Scarlett of a vulture circling around dying prey. It was as if he’d sensed their discord and had swooped in to pick them apart like a wounded carcass.
He glanced around the table. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
The guys skewered him with contemptuous glares and snarled, “What the fuck do you want?”
Myles looked taken aback by their hostility.
Before he could recover from his shock, Scarlett abruptly stood. “I need to go finish packing for my flight.”
Her bandmates frowned at her. “Scarlett—”
Ignoring them, she left the table and marched across the lobby to the elevators. Thankfully she didn’t have a long wait.
Just as she boarded the elevator and pushed the button for her floor, she heard Myles calling after her, “Scarlett, wait! Can we talk?”
She saw him hurrying toward the elevator, but he was too far away to catch her.
As the doors slowly closed, she lifted her hand and gave him the finger.