Reckless Love: A Billionaire Baby Steamy Fantasy Multicultural Love Story Rockstar Romance by Imani King Page B
Authors: Imani King
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empty. It was expectant, it was caring, anticipating, waiting… It made it easy to pour all one’s passion, nuance, beauty into the rarefied atmosphere.
What was that they said? thought Jasmine. Silence is like a canvas for an artist? We paint with sound.
As the crowd screamed louder, Leo strutted out onto the stage, his arms still wide. They were eating it up. It was going perfectly. He could barely hear the other musicians. Nigel was yelling something to him – he could tell only because of the shape of his mouth, and the intensity of his eyes. In fact there was screaming as far as the eye could see, faces twisted in excitement, contorted in mid-shout, until he couldn’t make out any detail anymore. The individual appearances just became a sea of people.
The arena was huge – larger than anything they played in England, but rather typical for the states. That was one thing that made these American tours so exciting – the sheer amount of people who were desperate for you. If you could fill a theater like this, there was nothing you couldn’t do. Nothing.
He spun in the center of the stage, head back, as the crowd roared in approval, before he finally struck his first note. Thank heaven for the monitor in his ear that made sure he was relatively in tune – not that it mattered that much when you screamed.
In the silence, Jasmine ended the first piece harmonizing with her colleagues in the sheerest, finest way possible, doing a perfect and exquisite diminuendo, only a cell of one hair of her bow drawing the string as they finished. The audience was in complete silence for a full ten seconds as they finished, the unbroken stillness of the quartet looking at one another from under lowered eyelids. Then there was a burst of applause, held strongly for two minutes straight. They had done it – won over one of the most discerning audiences. The sound of the clapping was like the rush of a waterfall washing over Jasmine. Cleansing her. Washing away all the negativity from the last few weeks.
This was it. This was why she did it.
And it was better than love, wasn’t it?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Jasmine and Leo
Birds were singing already. The dawn had come, but Jasmine was still awake from the night before. Something about their performance that night had been extra special - electric. The promoters were thrilled, looking to book them for the next season right away.
But there was something else flickering besides the first rays of the sun. It was her phone, beside her on the pillow. Jasmine picked it up.
"Just had our first concert of the US Tour. Had to tell you - was brill. Everything ok in UK?"
It didn't say who it was from but there was no question it was Leo. How had he gotten her number, she wondered? Regardless, after staring at the message for a minute, she put the phone down. Then picked it up again. Then put it down. Then picked it up and wrote:
"Congrats. We played last night too"
She sent, before she could think too much.
How'd it go?
Amazing - they want us back
Gotta go, too much going on - will txt l8r
She put the phone down and a smile grew on her face. So he hadn't forgotten her after all.
Leo shoved the phone back in his pocket when Graham came bustling up to him.
"That was absolutely brilliant," he practically spat all the syllables at Leo in his enthusiasm. "You were bloody phenomenal. You really belong in an arena that size, my boy -"
"Only one big enough for his massive ego," quipped Nigel, coming up behind him. The boys clapped each other on the back. "Now was that a great show, or was that a fucking great show?"
"You've outdone yourselves, certainly," said Graham, and then, eyebrows waggling: "Now if you'll excuse me I have some groupies to wrangle."
Leo almost called after him to tell him not to bother, but when he saw Nigel's face, filled with anticipation and lust, he knew he couldn't. He'd have to just let
What was that they said? thought Jasmine. Silence is like a canvas for an artist? We paint with sound.
As the crowd screamed louder, Leo strutted out onto the stage, his arms still wide. They were eating it up. It was going perfectly. He could barely hear the other musicians. Nigel was yelling something to him – he could tell only because of the shape of his mouth, and the intensity of his eyes. In fact there was screaming as far as the eye could see, faces twisted in excitement, contorted in mid-shout, until he couldn’t make out any detail anymore. The individual appearances just became a sea of people.
The arena was huge – larger than anything they played in England, but rather typical for the states. That was one thing that made these American tours so exciting – the sheer amount of people who were desperate for you. If you could fill a theater like this, there was nothing you couldn’t do. Nothing.
He spun in the center of the stage, head back, as the crowd roared in approval, before he finally struck his first note. Thank heaven for the monitor in his ear that made sure he was relatively in tune – not that it mattered that much when you screamed.
In the silence, Jasmine ended the first piece harmonizing with her colleagues in the sheerest, finest way possible, doing a perfect and exquisite diminuendo, only a cell of one hair of her bow drawing the string as they finished. The audience was in complete silence for a full ten seconds as they finished, the unbroken stillness of the quartet looking at one another from under lowered eyelids. Then there was a burst of applause, held strongly for two minutes straight. They had done it – won over one of the most discerning audiences. The sound of the clapping was like the rush of a waterfall washing over Jasmine. Cleansing her. Washing away all the negativity from the last few weeks.
This was it. This was why she did it.
And it was better than love, wasn’t it?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Jasmine and Leo
Birds were singing already. The dawn had come, but Jasmine was still awake from the night before. Something about their performance that night had been extra special - electric. The promoters were thrilled, looking to book them for the next season right away.
But there was something else flickering besides the first rays of the sun. It was her phone, beside her on the pillow. Jasmine picked it up.
"Just had our first concert of the US Tour. Had to tell you - was brill. Everything ok in UK?"
It didn't say who it was from but there was no question it was Leo. How had he gotten her number, she wondered? Regardless, after staring at the message for a minute, she put the phone down. Then picked it up again. Then put it down. Then picked it up and wrote:
"Congrats. We played last night too"
She sent, before she could think too much.
How'd it go?
Amazing - they want us back
Gotta go, too much going on - will txt l8r
She put the phone down and a smile grew on her face. So he hadn't forgotten her after all.
Leo shoved the phone back in his pocket when Graham came bustling up to him.
"That was absolutely brilliant," he practically spat all the syllables at Leo in his enthusiasm. "You were bloody phenomenal. You really belong in an arena that size, my boy -"
"Only one big enough for his massive ego," quipped Nigel, coming up behind him. The boys clapped each other on the back. "Now was that a great show, or was that a fucking great show?"
"You've outdone yourselves, certainly," said Graham, and then, eyebrows waggling: "Now if you'll excuse me I have some groupies to wrangle."
Leo almost called after him to tell him not to bother, but when he saw Nigel's face, filled with anticipation and lust, he knew he couldn't. He'd have to just let
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