Chapter Two

He was drowning. The salt water filled his nose, his mouth, his lungs. It burned, the pain a roaring companion to his overwhelming need to breathe, but all he sucked in was more water, more pain.

His only escape.

“Ike!”

Isaac jerked awake, a sick wheeze cutting the air as he dragged a ragged breath into his laboring lungs. Heavy hands landed on his shoulders, startling him, skyrocketing his already quick pulse until Nick’s face swam into view and reality righted itself once more.

Nick. A nightmare. Oliver.

He was always Oliver in the dreams, sinking beneath the surface, the water consuming him, taking him away from a life he could no longer bear. A life he desperately wanted to end.

“That’s the third one this week,” Nick was saying, “and the week’s not even half over yet.”

Isaac pulled himself up to sitting and ran a hand over his eyes. This morning’s massage had left him too relaxed, sent him into a deep sleep once he’d returned to the penthouse suite. Too deep for his conscious mind to control.

“What the fuck, dude? When are you gonna do something about this?”

They’d been together a long time, since Isaac’s first top-ten hit single. Long enough that Nick Lewis held nothing back when they were alone. Nick was the best bodyguard Isaac had ever known, and growing up with the kind of money his family’d had, he’d known more than a few. He’d never been friends with any of them, though. Unfortunately, Nick was close enough to know exactly how fucked up Isaac was right now—and had no qualms about pointing it out.

Isaac grunted, the sound hoarse, his throat raw from the dream seawater and memories. Bad enough that Nick knew. The last think Isaac needed was the record label finding out their star musician was unstable. Needing help. “I’ll get right on that,” he croaked.

No, he wouldn’t. Nick knew that as well as he did; his friend’s glare said as much. He could glare all he wanted, though; Isaac didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to think about it. He sure as fuck didn’t want to dream about it, but that part he couldn’t control. His jaw ached as he clenched his teeth together.

Nick hovered over him, his face serious, his own jaw a stubborn line. “You’re going through a rough time; everyone does. If you don’t want to talk to a pro, you can at least tell me what’s going through that head of yours.”

Isaac stood abruptly. “I haven’t grown a vagina yet.” His chest ached as he walked toward the bar. The water bottle he retrieved from the fridge cooled the rasp in his throat and hid his expression. He couldn’t talk about this, even if he wanted to. The nightmares were too private, too painful. They’d pass once the anniversary was over.

Nick shook his head, frustration evident as he walked toward the door. “Fine. Sit up here and sook.”

A snort escaped, threatening to choke Isaac on his last swallow. “What?”

“You know, sulking.” The faintest glimmer of amusement lit the man’s eyes as he glanced over his shoulder. Lightening the mood. The tight knot in Isaac’s gut eased the slightest bit.

“No, I’m not having a sook.” His friend might never get the hang of Aussie slang, but then if he could, he wouldn’t provide the entertainment he did now. Isaac hid a wry smile as he leaned his elbows on the bar. “I’m not the whinger around here; you are.”

That one Nick was familiar with—Isaac accused him of whining often enough. He shot Isaac a bird from where he stood next to the door. “You’re meeting with Mr. Seaberg in an hour. Want me to order something to eat in the meantime?”

Who knew when they’d get back from their tour of the concert space later today. Isaac had no appetite, but knowing Nick wouldn’t eat if he didn’t, he nodded. “Sure.”

Nick already had his phone in hand, finger hovering over the buttons. “Last chance, mate. I may not offer again. You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”

It was Isaac’s turn for an obscene gesture. “Rack off, mate. I’m already mad you turned down the offer of your own massage this morning.”

Nick shrugged and started punching buttons. “Just keepin’ it real, is all. I’ve got a job to do, which is to make sure you get what you need unmolested.”

Except Isaac hadn’t been unmolested this morning, had he?

The thought of his redhead—when she had become his, he didn’t know, but it was there all the same—brushed the remaining shadows from his mind. Christ, she’d been lovely.

While Nick placed their order, Isaac headed for the shower. The hot water pounding onto his shoulders and neck reminded him of this morning’s massage. His masseuse had done the impossible: worked the permanent kinks from his neck and shoulders into painlessly smooth motion. The relief was exquisite, like the untying of a rope after being bound too long. But it wasn’t the talented brunette he focused on as the water caressed his naked skin; it was the briefest glimpse of long red hair and a delicate frame wrapped in a thick white robe.

His mystery woman had been just as naked as he was under that robe. She’d taken advantage of his sleepiness and lack of sight to tempt him, tantalize him with her husky voice, her light scent. And then she’d teased him. Isaac Anschau, rock star, the man who hadn’t been teased in far too long to remember except by his smart-ass bodyguard. But the sexy redhead had dared to play with him. He should be furious—he guarded his rare moments of privacy fiercely after so many years in the spotlight—but she hadn’t tried to touch him, had shown no sign of recognition. Just enough well-meaning torture to make him laugh.

He couldn’t forget her, and neither could his body. A glance down assured him he’d get to live with her torture for a while yet, likely every time she came to mind. The ache was a welcome distraction; so was finding her. He’d start at his meeting with the Sovereign CEO. Surely the man would have some idea where he could start his search.

An hour later the elevator whisked them to the ground floor of the hotel. They arrived at the executive offices at twelve thirty on the dot and were promptly shown into the one belonging to Sovereign’s owner, Jerry Seaberg. He was everything Isaac had expected, a dignified man whose aura of authority and money matched the massive mahogany desk he was currently circling, charismatic smile in place. “Mr. Anschau, welcome!”

“Seaberg, how you doing?”

“I’m well,” he boomed, extending a hand for a firm, enthusiastic shake. “Sovereign is already working her wonders on you, isn’t she? Make use of the spa this morning?”

“I did.” Isaac let a genuine smile through. “I might have to hire Melody to come with me on tour.”

“Absolutely not. She’s a favorite around here.” Jerry gestured them over to a seating area nearby. “I’m glad it lived up to expectations.”

Isaac rolled his head on his shoulders. “It absolutely did.”

Jerry settled his trim frame into a chair catty-corner to Isaac’s. “We’ll get down to business in just a moment. My head of guest services is on her way here. Got held up with a little emergency. She won’t be long.” He nodded toward the line of floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the entire back wall of his office. “What do you think of Vegas so far? Not too different from Australia for you, I hope.”

“A bit,” Isaac conceded, although he hadn’t seen much other than the ride from the airport. He was considering ways to get Jerry’s take on his search when a buzz from the desk interrupted.

“Ah, that’ll be Kennedy. You’ll like her.” Jerry stood. Isaac followed suit.

The door to the office opened as he turned toward it, readying his professional face, only to stop, stunned, the second the woman came into view. Cliché or not, time slowed as he watched the beauty cross the room. A tall redhead with creamy skin, the greenest eyes he’d seen this side of Ireland, and the body of a goddess rising from the sea. He took it all in with a glance, but it was the hair he returned to. A deep, luxurious red that couldn’t come from a bottle. It was long, heavy, with thick curls that teased her bare arms, but he’d seen it this morning, tamed by a ponytail that had hidden its sheer sex appeal in a way that should be a crime.

Just the kind of search he liked, a quick one. He’d rather move straight to the chase.

“Isaac Anschau, meet Kennedy O’Connell. Sovereign is lucky to have her.”

His gaze was still on that hair when the woman stopped in front of them. He let it lower slowly until his eyes locked with hers, wide and anxious, like a sub unsure of her Dom’s next move. She knew exactly who he was if that look was anything to go by—a deer in headlights, he believed they called that look in the States. The grin that tugged at his lips felt more sadistic Dom than polite acquaintance, but then, now he was the one in control, wasn’t he?

It almost felt…good.

“Hello, Ms. O’Connell.”

Her palm met his, and electricity arced between them. She trembled the slightest bit, but her handshake was firm, her gaze direct despite the blush that washed hotly across her cheeks. “Of course,” she murmured. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Anschau.”

“A pleasure indeed,” Isaac said, watching as she ran the pink tip of her tongue over full lips. All the moisture disappeared from his mouth the sight adding to the fire stirring somewhere fires should definitely not stir during a business meeting. “Sit. Please,” he added.

Kennedy circled the seating area before choosing the chair farthest from his position, allowing him a great view of her toned legs in stiletto heels. The drone of Seaberg’s voice was lost beneath the buzz under his skin as he gazed at her, watching that blush make a return appearance on her creamy cheeks as if she felt the weight of his stare, even as she refused to acknowledge it.

Oh yes, this was going to be more fun than he’d thought possible given his current state of mind.

And maybe that’s exactly what you need in your state—a chase.

He hated to admit it, but that was the first smart thing the voice in his head had said in quite a while. He found himself smiling, felt the edge of predatory interest in the pull of his lips across his teeth. Having this beauty’s undivided attention, at least for a little while, suited him to a T—why deny himself that?

Seaberg saying his name finally drew his attention. “Mr. Anschau arrived a day earlier than expected—”

“And threw everything into chaos,” Isaac finished for him. “I really need to apologize for the mix-up. Our travel coordinator is new, and crossing time zones slipped her notice when she booked the reservation. I never would’ve imposed if the suite had not been available.” He knew too many musicians who took inconveniencing others as their due. He wasn’t one of them.

“Nonsense!” Seaburg waved a hand in his direction. “We aim to please; no inconvenience. Kennedy, you likely already know Mr. Anschau is here in preparation for the final concert of his world tour, slated for the MGM arena two weeks from now. He’ll be staying with us in the interim.”

Obviously familiar with what that entailed, Kennedy graced Isaac with a smile. “And it will be my pleasure to take care of you in that time.”

More like his pleasure, he hoped.