Reprise (Ruby Riot #3) Page 3

  “Nate, yes there is. We’re close, aren’t we?”

  “No.”

  She sighs and crosses to sit next to me on the bed. “I don’t want to hurt you. I have, haven’t I?”

  I drag my hand away as she takes hold. “You’re replaceable.”

  “Nate, I’m sorry.” Sophia places a hand on my cheek and I clench my jaw.

  “No reason to be sorry.” I take her hand away from my face. “What made you think this means so much to me? Sex was awesome, thanks for giving me what other guys can’t have. Apart from that, nothing.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  She’s ending things with me? I don’t fucking think so. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”

  “What?”

  “If you’re leaving.”

  “I didn’t say that! I said I wasn’t sure we could keep going once I went overseas. That doesn’t mean we have to end this now.”

  “I guess we do. Are you going now?”

  “No. I can’t leave straightaway, Nate… It’s eleven p.m.”

  I cross my arms. “So? There’s still time to find somewhere to stay. Ask reception; they might have a room available in the hotel.”

  “Are you really telling me to leave right this minute? Don’t be silly!”

  Silly? “Looks like it.” I gather her discarded clothes from earlier and drop them in her open suitcase. “I don’t want you here. Might be awkward if I bring another girl back.”

  She blinks at me. “You’re kicking me out so you can pick up another girl?”

  “Maybe.”

  I walk into the bathroom, sweep all her make-up and bottles into her huge black bag she carries the shit around in, and zip it closed. Then I stalk back into the room and drop the bag on top of the clothes. “There’s your gear, you can piss off now.” I kick the suitcase closed. “See you around, maybe.”

  Her cheeks redden. “You bastard!”

  “Hey, you’re the one saying this is over.”

  “But I didn’t! I said it might not work! Jesus, Nate. How can you throw me out like this…?” Her eyes well with tears and a smug feeling sneaks over me. She doesn’t get to say shit like that to me then walk away happy. “Nate, it’s late. I’ll leave in the morning.”

  “Nope.”

  Suitcase fastened, I prop it by the door and call reception. Sophia remains on the bed, watching me silently. “The porter will be here for your bags in five minutes. Do you want to ask if they have any rooms?” I hold out the phone, the reception desk still on the line if she wants.

  She jumps up, snatches the phone from me, and slams it down. “You bloody bastard!”

  “Never denied it.”

  Sophia sinks back onto the bed, tears gathering in her eyes. I grab my phone from the table and shove it in my pocket. She doesn’t say a word.

  Will Sophia tell the press all the gory details about our relationship? Do I give a crap? Who cares about my reputation? I sure as hell don’t.

  “Thanks for the fun. I’m leaving for a few hours. Be gone when I come back,” I say.

  The hotel room door clicks shut behind me and I weigh up my options. Where’s the nearest place to get a drink?

  5

  RILEY

  The quiet hotel bar area is small; tables and chairs arranged around the space, which is dominated by a long wooden bar. Brightly lit shelves of spirits line the wall behind, and I toy with moving from wine to something stronger. Then I remind myself I’m on tour working and not holiday.

  I check clients’ social media accounts to ensure they’re running correctly, take a quick look at my own, and then place the phone on the bar.

  I don’t go out alone as much these days. Occasional drinks after work but never anything late or exciting. Unless you count the odd hook up, but I haven’t had one of those recently either.

  There must be a conference on in the hotel; a lot of men in suits gathered in the lobby earlier and a few are drinking at tables now, their volume increasing as the minutes pass. I half check them out, but nobody catches my eye.

  The bar isn’t busy apart from the conference group: one or two couples at the tables near the back of the room, a few guys propping up the wooden bar and talking loudly. Midweek, and the hotel is filled with business travellers.

  Two drinks later, on top of the three glasses of wine with the meal, and I’m pleasantly fuzzy. One more and I’ll head to bed.

  “I’ll get this,” a man says as the barman places a glass of white wine in front of me.

  Dressed in dark trousers and a grey shirt with the top button unfastened, this man is like many I’ve met before, including myself. Even away from work, he can’t drop into casual; his business nature hangs around in his attire.

  Good-looking guy though. Friendly face, heavy brow, and a sharp jawline. His arms resting on the bar show evidence he works out. He’s younger looking than most of the other guys around, closer to my age. But I’m not interested.

  “Thanks for the drink,” I say.

  He shifts stools and holds his right hand out. “Archie.”

  “Riley.” His firm grip squashes my fingers harder than I’d like.

  “Oh, I know somebody with a daughter called Riley.”

  “I don’t know any Archies.”

  “Want to get to know one?”

  I pick up my wine. “Wow, you don’t hold back.”

  “Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean—” Archie bites his lip. “I meant chat.”

  Sure he does. I sip my drink, flattered by his attention. “I’m happy to chat. What do you do, Archie? For work.”

  “Accountant. I’m attending a conference at the hotel over the next couple of days.” He points at me. “No sarcastic comments about boring accountants.”

  I smile and he laughs back. “I wouldn’t.”

  “Are you here for the conference too?”

  “Me? No.”

  “No?”

  I don’t elaborate; no way do I want twenty questions about working for rock stars. So I stay quiet.

  “On your own?” he asks.

  Whatever this guy says, he’s flirting. I check out his hands and point at his wedding ring. “Is your wife with you?”

  He snaps his head downwards. “Oh. Crap.”

  I laugh at him. “You’re not very good at this, are you? Normally leaving your wedding ring off would help.”

  “I wasn’t intending to… just wanted to chat. A bit of fun.”

  Oh, God. I shift in my seat and look at a spot behind him. Hooking up with random guys when the dry spell has gone on too long is something I do, but not if they’re married.

  Somebody appears at the bar a few feet away and loudly orders a drink. I groan as I take in his appearance, the scruffy guy I do not want to see and the opposite image to Archie. My rock start nemesis. I glance around for Sophia. I could talk to her and politely excuse myself from this awkward situation with the married guy.

  Grabbing the glass he’s served, Nate catches sight of me looking at him. He holds the glass up in salute and I look away.

  Too late.

  “Riley!” he enthuses.

  Archie glances behind him. “Wow. I heard there was a band here. I didn’t realise it was Ruby Riot.”

  With those words, I know the band have made it to where I want them to be, and I’ve hit success too. Random, married guy in a bar who probably spends more time listening to nursery rhymes than music recognises Nate. Not Jax, but Nate.

  Nate invites himself over. “Riley Sawyer, are you picking up strange men again?”

  I shoot him a warning look; but I’ve spent enough time around the guy in the past to know I’m wasting my time if I want him to wind his head in. “Hello, Nate.”

  “You know him?” asks Archie. The wide-eyed, impressed look is exactly why I kept my mouth shut about my job.

  “Riley’s my publicist. She came up to Newcastle to tell me what to do.” He slides closer and rests his arms on the bar next to Archie. “She’s bossy. Be read
y for that if you— ”

  “Where’s Sophia?” I interrupt.

  “Who the fuck knows?” Nate knocks back his drink and clicks his fingers at the barman before looking back to our new friend between us. “Where are all the chicks?”

  “Are you asking me?” Archie points at himself and Nate nods. “Some of the ladies from the conference went out for a meal. They’ll be around later.”

  Nate snorts. “Ladies. Ladies don’t screw rock stars, do they, Smiley?”

  I drain my glass. “It was nice chatting, Archie. Excuse me; I need to be up early.”

  “It’s just past eleven p.m.!” calls Nate. “Me, you, and… him, we can have a few drinks while I wait for the ladies.” He wraps an arm around Archie’s shoulder. “What you drinking?”

  Jesus Christ, Nate really doesn’t change. “Is your brother around?” I ask.

  “Nah.”

  The twins were a pain in the backside last time I toured with them, but at least they looked out for each other. Nate’s sobriety is heading south fast and my publicist brain shifts into gear.

  “Actually, I’ll have another white wine please,” I say and indicate my empty glass.

  Nate blinks at me for a moment. “You staying?”

  “I was talking to Archie before you interrupted. Sit with us if you like.”

  Nate studies Archie long enough to make him shift uncomfortably and look away. Nate smirks. “Aha. Interrupting something? I get it.”

  “No, you don’t,” I reply.

  “He’s your type though, right?” continues Nate. “What do you do, Archie?”

  “Accountant.”

  “Figures.” Nate drains his glass and orders us more drinks.

  What the hell is going on with him? The times in the past he’s drunk like this have led to situations the press love. Things have been quiet on the Ruby Riot scandal front recently; they’d love to get hold of some drama. Drama Nate’s heading towards.

  “Look, maybe I should go,” says Archie to me. “I have an early start tomorrow.”

  “It’s fine, stay. Nate will get bored in a minute.”

  Nate laughs. “But you and an accountant. How could you possibly bore me? What do you talk about? Or are you skipping the talking part?” He clamps a hand over his mouth then removes it and his mouth snakes into a smile. “Riley, you naughty girl! Have you told him what almost happened the night you met me in a bar?”

  His loud voice attracts nearby patrons and I grab my wine. The jerk can piss off; he is not embarrassing me in public. “Should we sit down, Archie?” I indicate a table with two stools.

  “No. I think I should go. It was nice chatting to you.”

  The guy can’t get away quick enough. Nate watches him go as he sinks yet another glass of whisky. I stare into my wine glass.

  “Huh. Nice guy,” says Nate.

  We stand next to each other in silence and I pick my phone up to pretend I’m busy. If I leave now Nate will think he’s won. I will leave, after I finish my drink.

  “Are you meeting Sophia?” I ask with hope.

  “She left.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah.”

  I look up. “What happened?”

  Nate turns drunk eyes to mine. “None of your business, Smiley.”

  That bloody nickname… But if I say something, he’s guaranteed to continue using it.

  “It will be if you’ve caused drama and she tells people. The public love her, Nate.”

  “And? Not my problem.” He grins. “It’s yours.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing! We’re over. She left.”

  I shouldn’t. Really shouldn’t but the temptation is too great. “Sophia told me before.”

  “Told you what?”

  “That she was ending your relationship.”

  Nate pulls his head back as if I smacked him then composes himself. “We didn’t have a relationship.”

  “A month and the same girl? That’s a relationship of sorts.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t care about her.”

  “No, because Nate Campbell doesn’t care about anybody but himself.”

  “Unfair. I care about my brother. Jax. Ruby. My parents and—”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He leans towards me, and I gag on the smell of alcohol. “You wanna know what happened? I told her to piss off. That’s how little I care.”

  “What do you mean? You were with her a couple of hours ago.”

  He shrugs and looks away. “She pissed me off. I told her to leave. I can’t be fucking bothered with girls who make life complicated.”

  Don’t I know it.

  “You asked her to leave the hotel? This late?”

  “Yeah. Why would I want Sophia to stay in my room when she told me she was leaving me?”

  “You really are a piece of work, aren’t you? That’s appalling behaviour!”

  He snorts. “Says you who was gonna screw a married man.”

  “I was not!”

  When he orders another drink, my despair increases. “Nate. Stop now.”

  He splutters. “What?”

  “Stop drinking, you’re obviously upset and—”

  “Upset? What the fuck?”

  I inhale. I didn’t want to play this card but I need to. I’ve visions of Nate off his face, hitting on women… or hitting somebody. He’s swung a punch or two before. Nothing like the mess his brother found himself in, but enough we needed to buy him out of an assault charge. The last gig tomorrow needs to run smoothly; I don’t want to spend extra time up here sorting his mess out.

  “I said you’re upset. I know enough about you to be able to see you are.”

  “Bullshit.”

  I drink and wait as the tension thickens. He knows I’m telling the truth. Nate opened up to me once before; I’ve seen the man beneath the grade A asshole.

  I met Nate in a bar, weeks before I knew I’d join Ruby Riot on tour, when we were just two people and not rock star plus his PR girl. I knew who he was, but never thought I’d end up working with him. Nothing happened that first night, although it would if I’d allowed myself — or had more wine inside me. The Nate I met originally was friendly, although clearly hitting on me.

  I never expected to be sent on tour with the band. Stupidly, I expected Nate to be the same towards me once I joined the tour, but by then he’d embraced the rock star life he once confessed to me he had doubts about.

  The first night on tour in Europe, Nate demanded to talk to me. He asked why I lied to him about who I was the first time we’d met and why I hadn’t told him I was touring with the band. I attempted to explain I didn’t think my job was relevant at the time, and that I’d had no idea I’d end up in Europe with Ruby Riot. The atmosphere relaxed but remained charged with the same sexual tension as the night we met.

  As we talked, the roots of who we’d become dug into the ground. Nate’s attempt to talk down to me led to my refusal to be spoken to in that way. The war of words and outsmarting began, but on the first night we ended with a drink and an acknowledgment that our similarities matched our differences.

  Naturally, that was Nate’s first drunken attempt to persuade me into his bed. I told Nate in clear terms: no. He gave me the smirk I know so well now. He didn’t believe me.

  We met a couple of other times after then, including the night Nate broke into my hotel room, drunk as a skunk, and launched into a long, confusing story about girls and broken hearts until we both fell asleep. That’s why I know he’s more than the man he pretends to be.

  A week later, in the bathrooms in Paris, I realised the guy I met the night he poured his heart out was staying buried. That night I learned who I was really dealing with: the man in front of me now

  My heart races as he steps closer, and I’m thankful his attitude reminds me enough about the past to dampen down some of the infuriating way my body reacts to him. “If you’re that desperate for sex that you’d hit on a guy like him
, I’m happy to oblige. You know that, we’ve been here before.”

  “I wasn’t hitting on him.”

  “Because you have a guy in your life, Riley?” he whispers.

  “None of your business.”

  “Judging by your face, I’d say that’s no.” He’s close, fingers a hair’s breadth from mine on the bar. “Wanna come back to my room?”

  I take a deep breath as his fingers brush mine and shoot heat through me. “You’re disgusting. Two hours ago you were with a girl, now you’re asking me if I want to screw you.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “If you need someone in your bed to get over your hurt from this evening, look elsewhere.”

  “Fuck this.” Nate drops all pretence of interest in me. “You’ve had your chance. I won’t bother offering again.”

  “I am not interested in you!”

  “You think you can read me? I can read you.” He drains his drink and slams the glass on the bar then grabs me around the waist and pulls me against his hips. “Loud and clear, Smiley.”

  I dig my nails into his hands. I can’t make a scene, but he’s crossed the line. “Get your hands off me, you dickhead,” I hiss.

  With a laugh, he releases me and grins. “Loud and clear.”

  He saunters off and I gulp my wine. How dare he sexually harass me? Nate’s worse than he was, way worse. Treating Sophia the way he did, thinking putting his hands on me is okay. If we hadn’t been in public, he’d have worse than nail marks on his hands. And if he so much as makes one move on me, I’ll report him.

  I laugh softly to myself. Nate knows I won’t, because what would be the point?

  6

  RILEY

  I’m livid over Nate’s behaviour for the rest of the following day and avoid him. Most of the tasks I travelled to Newcastle for can be taken care of at the hotel, and I work in one of the conference rooms counting the hours until I can leave. Unfortunately, that means another night stuck here.

  Before they leave for the gig, I’m dragged into a meeting with the band where a hungover Nate avoids looking at me, and I sit and swallow down the anger. Our eyes meet once, and he can’t hold my look. Embarrassed by his behaviour? I bloody hope so. No apology for touching me comes.

  Tonight is a VIP meet and greet, which elicits the usual moaning from Jax. I’m not in the mood to manage his diva performance and put one of the junior girls onto the task. Claudia takes a group of VIPs to their box and sits with them, as excited as the group she’s with. Thank god she is. I may’ve taken up the slack on the organisation side, but I have no desire to watch the band.