from the band and dragging him to Miami?”
“Avery, anything to say to the disappointed fans?”
Past memories mixed with the present. The men with cameras closed in on her as she made her way to the entrance. Ella grabbed the handle and pushed Avery inside, slamming the door shut behind her.
Avery breathed out a harsh breath.
“Assholes,” Ella muttered.
“Let’s get upstairs.”
Ella grabbed her hand and they ran for the elevator.
A few minutes later, Avery was safely inside her apartment. Her heart pounded and sweat dripped off her body. She ducked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face and cooled herself off. Calming down didn’t happen as easily, and she barely refrained from throwing up.
She didn’t know how to process what had just happened. Her worst nightmares about Grey had come to pass, and she didn’t know how to handle it.
* * *
After taking Avery home, Grey worked out in the gym of his building, opting for a hard-core treadmill run instead of going outside and dealing with fans stopping him along the way. Sweating and tired, he walked back into his apartment and picked up his cell to check messages. He wondered if Avery’s meeting had been successful, but he hadn’t heard from her, but he did have a shit ton of alerts.
He glanced at Lola’s text first. Read and call me ASAP . He clicked the accompanying link, took one look at the photo she’d sent from the local morning paper of Grey and Avery, and his blood pressure soared through the roof.
“Fuck!” He barely stopped himself from throwing his phone into the nearest wall. Just when things were falling into place with Avery, this happened. Publicity she didn’t want with a negative spin guaranteed to cause her trouble and pain.
His blood boiling, he scrolled through the rest of his texts, including one from Simon with a thumbs-up, way-to-go message. All publicity is good publicity .
“Asshole,” Grey muttered. The man made money off them any way he could and knew that any media attention sold music.
Grey looked at his email next, scrolling through until something that looked like fan mail stopped him cold. His email went through Simon’s agency. Always. Grey’s personal address was off-limits, and he went to great lengths to keep it that way.
Chills traveled through him as he read:
Dear Lover,
You betrayed me. You know we are meant to be together, but you are fucking that whore. I saw her leave your apartment this morning. That should be me. It will be me. I tried to be nice, to send her messages on her blog, but she isn’t getting the hint to leave you alone. Don’t worry. I will take care of things so we can finally be together.
Love, now and forever,
Emerald
Emerald. Emerald. He racked his brain for a connection, and suddenly he remembered one. At the fan event Simon had arranged before their last few concerts in Miami, Grey had been in a particularly good mood since their touring days were coming to an end. He’d had his game face on, flirting with female fans, keeping them happy and engaged.
A woman had approached him wearing a sparkling green shirt, extremely low cut, her red hair sprayed hard. She’d leaned over the table, getting too close as she’d asked for an autograph. Marco had stepped forward, and Grey had known he had to get the woman out of there fast.
He’d winked at her and asked, “What’s your name, or should I just call you Emerald, to match your shirt … and your eyes.” Corny but she’d eaten it up.
Unfortunately he’d had to sign her chest and not a photo, after which she’d deliberately flashed not just her tit but also her nipple before Marco had grabbed her elbow and escorted her to the next guard at the exit. It wasn’t a sight Grey wanted to remember, and he’d put it and her out of his mind almost immediately. But clearly she recalled the meeting much differently and put much more meaning into it. Now all the crazy in his life was invading
“Avery, anything to say to the disappointed fans?”
Past memories mixed with the present. The men with cameras closed in on her as she made her way to the entrance. Ella grabbed the handle and pushed Avery inside, slamming the door shut behind her.
Avery breathed out a harsh breath.
“Assholes,” Ella muttered.
“Let’s get upstairs.”
Ella grabbed her hand and they ran for the elevator.
A few minutes later, Avery was safely inside her apartment. Her heart pounded and sweat dripped off her body. She ducked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face and cooled herself off. Calming down didn’t happen as easily, and she barely refrained from throwing up.
She didn’t know how to process what had just happened. Her worst nightmares about Grey had come to pass, and she didn’t know how to handle it.
* * *
After taking Avery home, Grey worked out in the gym of his building, opting for a hard-core treadmill run instead of going outside and dealing with fans stopping him along the way. Sweating and tired, he walked back into his apartment and picked up his cell to check messages. He wondered if Avery’s meeting had been successful, but he hadn’t heard from her, but he did have a shit ton of alerts.
He glanced at Lola’s text first. Read and call me ASAP . He clicked the accompanying link, took one look at the photo she’d sent from the local morning paper of Grey and Avery, and his blood pressure soared through the roof.
“Fuck!” He barely stopped himself from throwing his phone into the nearest wall. Just when things were falling into place with Avery, this happened. Publicity she didn’t want with a negative spin guaranteed to cause her trouble and pain.
His blood boiling, he scrolled through the rest of his texts, including one from Simon with a thumbs-up, way-to-go message. All publicity is good publicity .
“Asshole,” Grey muttered. The man made money off them any way he could and knew that any media attention sold music.
Grey looked at his email next, scrolling through until something that looked like fan mail stopped him cold. His email went through Simon’s agency. Always. Grey’s personal address was off-limits, and he went to great lengths to keep it that way.
Chills traveled through him as he read:
Dear Lover,
You betrayed me. You know we are meant to be together, but you are fucking that whore. I saw her leave your apartment this morning. That should be me. It will be me. I tried to be nice, to send her messages on her blog, but she isn’t getting the hint to leave you alone. Don’t worry. I will take care of things so we can finally be together.
Love, now and forever,
Emerald
Emerald. Emerald. He racked his brain for a connection, and suddenly he remembered one. At the fan event Simon had arranged before their last few concerts in Miami, Grey had been in a particularly good mood since their touring days were coming to an end. He’d had his game face on, flirting with female fans, keeping them happy and engaged.
A woman had approached him wearing a sparkling green shirt, extremely low cut, her red hair sprayed hard. She’d leaned over the table, getting too close as she’d asked for an autograph. Marco had stepped forward, and Grey had known he had to get the woman out of there fast.
He’d winked at her and asked, “What’s your name, or should I just call you Emerald, to match your shirt … and your eyes.” Corny but she’d eaten it up.
Unfortunately he’d had to sign her chest and not a photo, after which she’d deliberately flashed not just her tit but also her nipple before Marco had grabbed her elbow and escorted her to the next guard at the exit. It wasn’t a sight Grey wanted to remember, and he’d put it and her out of his mind almost immediately. But clearly she recalled the meeting much differently and put much more meaning into it. Now all the crazy in his life was invading
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