Burning Desires E-Book

L.J. Diva

• Herausgeber: Royal Star Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 422

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

The Cavern Club is the hottest place in town for bands and singers, and after twenty years in the music industry, Remi Steele knows exactly what today’s musicians want. She makes sure they have everything they need, including fulfilment of their most secret desires…

Sexy as hell band manager, Rex Titus, has known Remi for years and wants her in his bed. He has no problem telling her that, but she refuses to play, until their sexually charged attraction bursts into flames and they burn up the bedroom with their rampant sexual desires…

Hot as hell detective, Drew Reilly, has a case that lands him on Remi’s doorstep. His interest is piqued by his extreme attraction to her, and by what happens behind the red velvet curtains where he finally gives in to his hidden desires…

After a young woman tragically collapses in the club, all of their attention turns to the one person who spent every night in The Golden Ring. That’s when they get a taste of, and start craving, something far more dangerous thanks to the mysterious Dr Teeth and his killer desires…

When ex-childhood best friends, Rex and Drew, come face to face after twenty-five years and discover they’ve both had a taste of Remi and crave her love and her body, they vow to fight for her. But when the club is blown up and Dr Teeth kidnaps her, can they put their lifelong resentments aside long enough to find the woman who owns their hearts? Or will they both lose her forever just as they lost their first love twenty-five years before.

If you love music, dancing, and hot men, then you’ll love L.J. Diva’s Burning Desires.

Pick up Burning Desires today to see who Remi picks to finally have her happy ever after with. Sexy as hell, Rex, or hot as hell, Drew.

Leseprobe

BURNING DESIRES

L.J. Diva

CONTENTS

Dedications

Prologue

PART ONE: TASTE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

PART TWO: CRAVE

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

PART THREE: BURN

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

About the Author

Other Titles

Copyright

DEDICATIONS

Dear lovers,

I’m tasting you…Aussie band, 5 Seconds of Summer, you inspired the “interviews” that got the whole idea started. For future reference, I prefer drummers…

I’m craving you…wildly hirsute and hot as hell Brett Goldstein, you inspired my shy and retiring detective, who, when the suit came off and the cuffs went on, unleashed his wild inner animal.

I’m burning for you…sexy as fuck, Roy Kent, you inspired my sexy as fuck band manager, whose gruff interior is always outdone by his very hairy sexy man beast exterior.

The sex was always wild!

Love, L.J.

PS. To Angela Bishop, thanks for inspiring my entertainment reporter

PROLOGUE

He crescendoed on the base drum and the orgasm hit her hard. Her breath groaned from between her lips as his leg slowed to a stop. Hers slid down until her feet landed on the floor.

“You really know how to fuck a woman.”

He exuded the scent of sex, drugs, and rock ’n roll as her fingers danced over his bare chest and up to his lips.

Her lips hovered in front of them. “You really know how to fuck.”

His lips slowly curled into a grin. “And you know how to make fucking adventurous.” His hands grasped her waist and lifted her as he stood, sliding her off his cock and placing her on her feet. He tucked himself away and zipped up. “Never banged a woman while I banged out a beat on the drums before.”

“First time for everything,” she murmured, smoothing her short denim skirt. “They say drummers bang it harder. You certainly proved just that.” Licking her full, cherry gloss covered lips, she trailed her fingers over his muscular arms. “And now I know the rest of you matches that, muscle for muscle.”

“I have been doing this for years,” he muttered into her ear. “But even that’s running low on the enthusiasm scale.” He grabbed a towel from the table behind the drum kit and wiped himself down.

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean? Isn’t drumming doing it for you anymore? Had enough of the travelling band life? The rich and the famous. Girls throwing themselves at you. Millions of dollars rolling in. Number one singles and albums.”

“Just made me money to waste on drugs and alcohol.” He threw the towel down and opened a bottle of ice-cold water, taking a long swig before pouring the rest over his head.

“Yeah.” She moved over to the table and took a bottle for herself. “I did notice the line of coke you snorted off your hand before starting the rehearsal.” Eyeing him as she opened her water, she noticed his physical unease, and carefully added, “Planning on doing that the rest of your life? Or are you sick of that, too?”

He slumped down on the corner of the table and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth to catch a few drops of liquid. “Yeah, getting sick of that, too.”

“You can do things about that, you know.” She stood in front of him. “Rehab or leave the band altogether. What is it you’re actually feeling?” She reached out and lightly shifted his auburn curls out of his eyes, her fingers sliding over his rounded cheek that was lightly freckled. “What is it that you actually want? Right now. Don’t worry about what the band will say or do, or what your manager will say or do, or the record company will say or do. Just think about you. What do you want right here, right now?”

“To disappear and never come back.”

She was surprised. “Blunt and to the point. Are you done with the band? Done with music? You’ve been together what…fifteen, twenty years, now?”

He heaved a deep sigh and shook his head. “I feel so done sometimes. Other times, I’m still riding high on tours and number ones.”

“And on other things, clearly.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “How much do you want this to stop? How much are you done? How much do you want to be done? How long have you been doing drugs?”

He gazed into her vibrant green eyes and felt the highs of the cocaine drift down to the depths of normality. “Very done. And too many years.” He thrust upward, his face inches from hers. “Drug addicts normally don’t want to stop. They constantly want that high. But I’ve come to hate it.” He stalked away. Around the table. The drum kit. Back and forth across the room.

She watched, waiting for him to speak.

He ran both hands through his tangled mess of curls and stopped. “I want it done. I want it gone. I want to be gone. But I was hanging on for tonight.”

Confusion settled over her. “Tonight? Why tonight?”

He gave her a wry grin and huffed a little. “You asked how long we’d been together. Well, it’s our twentieth anniversary today. We got together twenty years ago and tonight will be our anniversary party. Our anniversary show.”

“Wow.” Her brows rose and she nodded slightly. “You’ve held on how long? Wanted to stop how long? Would you leave after tonight?”

With his hands on his hips, he glanced around at nothing in particular. Tonight, they’d be playing in the hottest club in the country, run by the hottest woman he knew. He weighed up his thoughts. “Yeah. I would. I might. I’m done. I’m drained physically. I’m exhausted mentally. The record company wants us to head into the studio and start writing and recording, but fuck it, I’m done. I can’t keep doing this.” He rubbed his eyes and fell to the floor, rolling onto his back, legs bent at the knees, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sick and tired of touring, not sleeping properly, not eating properly, not having any downtime in between tours. They want us to record, and then we have to release and promote, and then tour again. It’s exhausting and I am fucking exhausted.”

She knelt beside him. “Do you want all of it to stop after tonight’s show?”

“If it could, that’d be great,” he mumbled. “But even I don’t know if they’d let me take time off for rehab, or a holiday. They don’t have any problem with us doing drugs. We’re more productive, and they’re the ones who pushed it onto us in the first place, so we’d get more done. All for them. All to make them more money.”

“Seems to be the way,” she murmured, and settled on the floor next to him. “Do you want someone to help you leave?” She glanced around to see if anyone was lurking in the shadows. “I know people who can help.”

He looked at her, thinking she was joking. “Wait…you’re serious?”

She nodded. “Yes. I am.”

He pushed himself up on his elbows and stared at her. “Are you actually serious? If I want to leave tonight, you’d help. And take me where? Do what with me? What would happen? How would it happen? When would it happen?”

She looked furtively for his people. “After the concert,” she murmured close to him, still on the lookout. “There are rooms for people to enjoy pleasures in. No one will notice you’re gone unless you tell them.”

He sat up, his heart hammering at the prospect of sneaking away. “But how?”

“Can’t tell you.” Her gaze darted around. “Best kept secret. But if you want to leave after the show, I’ll help you. Problems will only arise if you shoot your mouth off.” Studying his face, she could see the wear and tear of years of drugs, late nights, partying hard, and no time off. “It’s worn you out. That’s obvious. You look older than thirty-seven. And if you’re deadly serious about changing your life, then I can help you tonight. But…” She inhaled deeply and thought some things through, on the lookout for his people. “Because of your anniversary you’ll have a reporter and camera crew there all night. And I take it you’ll be doing interviews before and after the concert, so it’s going to be a long night and you’ll need to keep your mouth shut about leaving or taking time off.” She glanced at him sharply. “Can you try and not take anything so that you don’t blurt any information out by mistake?”

“Can’t promise that,” he said with a shake of his head. “The record company supplies munchies for our, andtheir, enjoyment before a show. And it expects us to take them.” He sighed. “You know. We started off healthy as teenagers. But we very quickly fell into the nature of fast food and sugary drinks. When our health got bad and our performances suffered for it, they brought in a nutritionist and cook. Things got better, but it wasn’t fast enough, or good enough for management, and that’s when the extra supplements came into the diet. We didn’t know at first. Thought they were normal vitamins. That’s what we were told. But it was too late when we found out. We were hooked, and they kept them in moderation, so we didn’t OD.” Wiping his nose, he thought about the line of coke he’d done earlier. “Unfortunately, it made us want the hard stuff and you saw that before.”

“Do you want to stop that? Seriously? Twenty years together, however many years on drugs, now the hard stuff. Do you seriously want to stop and walk away? For how long? Forever? For a year? For months? What? I need to know so I can make the plan for later.”

He bit his lip while thinking about it. “Not forever. But a good year or two, maybe three or four. The whole band needs to detox and get rid of management. We’re due to sign a new deal with them tonight. The others have been questioning it, wanting a break as well. But they just want time off. I want to disappear.”

“I can help with that. Where would you like to go? The desert or the seaside?”

“Can’t stand the desert, but love the water. Seaside. Why?”

“I can arrange that. Is there anyone you’ll be leaving behind? Partner, children, family?”

A wry grin slid over his face. “My family’s on my back about rehab, and there’s no partner or children. Where would I have found the time?”

“From the schedule I’ve seen of tonight, you’ll be doing interview, concert, fan chats, interview. After that you’ll be partying. It’ll happen then, towards the end of the night. You need to be ready. You need to want this. You need to be willing.”

Breathing deeply, he nodded. “I’m ready. I’m willing. I want to do this.”

“Then keep it to yourself and I’ll make the plan. I’ll see you tonight.” She got to her feet and adjusted her skirt.

“Will we fuck before I go?” He grabbed the waist of her skirt and pulled her close. “That was quite something.”

“Oh, don’t worry; we’ll make them think that’s what’s happening. Until tonight.” She pried loose his hands and left him to his rehearsal.

PART ONE

TASTE

CHAPTER 1

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the country’s hottest and coolest club to be for the best music and live performances in town, The Cavern Club.”

From her spot on the stage, Remi Steele glanced around her club and the adoring two-thousand-strong crowd there to see Jagger who was celebrating their twenty years together with an intimate performance for their rabid fans. They had run a competition to give away those tickets, and within minutes their website had crashed. But the fans had still scored their tickets.

Remi put her hand up to quieten the crowd. “Now, as you know, you are all competition winners and have received your packs with information on how tonight will go. The boys will be doing an interview upstairs before the performance, and one after. They’ll sign your merch and take photos with you. No pushing or shoving—you’ll get to see them. We have free drinks at the bar, and will be playing their music for you to dance to while you wait for them to come on stage. And until they do, enjoy yourselves. Free merch, free drinks, free performance. What’s not to like?” She scored screams in return and walked off the stage.

Sisco Reynard, the club’s manager, appeared by her side. “Rem, the reporter wants to interview you as well.”

“Me? Why me?” Remi walked past the bar, turned right into the private hallway behind it, and into her office. “Why me?”

“Because you’re famous in your own right.” Sisco shut the door behind them and watched Remi slump on her couch. “Want a drink?”

“God, yes please,” she groaned and put her boot-clad feet on her coffee table. “I’m worn out already. Don’t know how many more years I can put up with this.” She accepted a cold soda and Sisco sat beside her.

“Bullshit! You love it, and besides, that’s what you have me for. To manage the place while you’re not here.”

After several mouthfuls of icy soda, she blew out a breath. “True. But I think I’m just as exhausted as the bands that play here. Are the plans for tonight done?”

“All set. Interview, performance, meet and greet, interview. Which brings me back to the reporter who wants to do an interview with you.”

“About?”

“Your life, your career, your everything. You’re just as famous as the bands and singers that come through those front doors.”

“And go out the back ones.” Remi smirked. “Is it in the before or after interview?”

“Before the before. She’ll talk to you and then the band.”

An idea came to Remi’s mind. “What about if we do it together?”

Sisco cocked his head. “You’re up to something.”

“Am I?” Remi’s eyes rounded innocently. “Why would I be up to something?”

“Because you usually are—” He was interrupted by a knock on the door. “I’ll get it.” He quickly got up and opened the door, finding the reporter on the other side.

“Hello.” Donatella Prince was a thirty-year veteran with one of the TV networks. “Are we on for that interview, yet?”

Remi sighed, lifted her feet from the table, and stood wearily. “Sure. I’ll just freshen up and be up in a few minutes.”

“Fantastic. See you then.” Donatella walked away and Sisco closed the door.

Remi groaned and bowed her head. “I’ll be out in a minute.” She took her time freshening up and then strode upstairs to where the camera crew was set up for that night’s performance and interviews.

The club had multiple levels, laid out similarly to a theatre; you had the floor in front of the stage, a mezzanine level above it at the back where they were, and multiple levels of private booths around the sides.

“Donatella.”

“Remi Steele, look at you. Still hot-to-trot at forty-two,” Donatella said, microphone in hand and legs on display in a short, sequinned dress and stiletto heels.

Remi’s brows rose. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me how old I am. Let’s get this done, shall we?” She turned on an angle so she could look at Donatella and the camera easily, without cracking her neck or getting whiplash.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with age,” Donatella replied. “And you’ve done a hell of a lot in your lifetime, including set up this incredible club. But what people may not know is that you had your very own music career as a singer songwriter. Number one hit songs, hit albums, tours; year after year you did something new, released something new, were massive around the world in dozens of countries, and then you gave it all away to set up this club.”

“Ah, that’s not accurate, Donatella,” Remi corrected. “I started at eighteen and recorded and produced and toured for twenty years, until just four years go. I started this club ten years ago as an extra outlet for my craft. I stopped working for my record company once the club became more profitable than my singing career.”

“Are you saying your record company ripped you off?”

Remi gritted her teeth and let out a slow breath. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Donatella. Making product and touring became less fun and less profitable. There are a lot of artists out there making money, and I decided to go a different path and exit stage right into my club. I believe it’s my twenty-year career that helps make this club what it is. Famous.”

“And speaking of famous, you’ve had some pretty famous bands, singers, and musicians come through the doors to perform on your stage. Are they people you’ve known throughout your career, or ones you’ve forged new friendships and working relationships with?”

“Mmm, good question,” Remi said. “Many I have known throughout my career love coming to do intimate shows for their fans, and many start here with their careers. Every now and then we’ll do a talent show and have managers, press, and record execs here to see what talent is out there now, and so I forge relationships with up and comers as well.”

“Jagger have performed here a few times over the years, and they chose The Cavern Club for their intimate twentieth anniversary performance. They’ve reached the same milestones you have; some of you are stayers in the music community.”

Remi nodded. “We have to be sometimes, but it can get very boring hanging around so long. I had absolutely no problem hosting the boys tonight. And their people went all out for it, even down to the food. They have jelly confectionery in the shape of the boys’ tattoos, so I am off to suck on Jace’s snake.” Remi took that moment to wave goodbye and dash off, passing Jagger, who were coming for their first interview, as she went. Jace smiled and reached for her hand. She squeezed it as he passed and kept on going until she was downstairs. Glancing up, she saw the boys meet up with Donatella for their first interview.

Letting out a sigh, she headed for the merch tables to sample some of the confectionery the record company had laid out and picked up a red treble clef and a chocolate snake. A wicked thought sprang into her mind. Trying the snake, she sucked on its head for a few moments before ripping it off. She swallowed, and quickly devoured the rest as she walked up the stairs to the mezzanine. She hurried along, making sure her timing was just right and Donatella was looking the other way. Pretending to just be walking past, she heard, “The last thing she told me was she was off to suck on Jace’s snake.” Remi stopped next to the reporter and said, “Oh, I did.”

Startled, Donatella turned to her. “Did you try it? How was it?”

“I sucked its head off and then I swallowed.” Remi wiggled her brows at the camera while Jace burst into a fit of giggles. She pretended to walk off, but then stepped back. “No. I need to make a correction. It’s not a snake, it’s a python, and I sucked that head off and swallowed it down, down, down, down. For the record”— she pointed at the camera— “it tastes like chocolate, and also for the record, I’ve never deep-throated a python before. Weird experience, especially when that sucker slid deep.”

“Oh, my God, you can’t say that!” Donatella cried, looking from Remi to the boys, to the camera.

“Can’t say what?” Remi asked her. “Deep? Weird experience? Python? Throat? And how do you think Linda Lovelace made a name for herself?”

Donatella turned bright red and glanced at the camera.

Once more, Remi pretended to leave, but as she was having too much fun, and the boys were egging her on, she added, “By the way, boys, I have a recording studio in my basement. You’re free to use it anytime. Especially Jace.”

“Oh, that sounds like a euphemism,” Reece said from beside Jace.

“I’d love to work in your basement,” Jace told Remi. “And bang those drums real hard.” He stepped closer and laid a hand on her hip.

“Good.” Remi rocked against him and grabbed his crotch. “I’d love to have you in my studio. I need a python in my basement.”

Jace doubled over in laughter, wrapped his arms around his waist, and fell to his knees.

“Oh no, you broke Jace.” Reece stared down at his fellow bandmate.

“Oh, no, sweetie,” Remi cooed. “He won’t know what broke is until I’m done with him.” She glanced at the camera and waved her fingers. “Toodles.” Walking off, she heard laughter behind her, and grinning, went downstairs. Walking behind the bar to check on things, she saw a few record executives, managers, and publicists in the crowd, or in the private upper booths, and spied Rex Titus, band manager extraordinaire. One of his bands was 10x4, a hot new teen band on the rise. They’d had one of their first gigs at the club and Rex had seen them and signed them to his label.

Remi was sipping an ice-cold cola when he walked up to the bar.

“Remi.”

“Rexy.”

He eyed her shapely legs in her boots and denim skirt, and as his gaze moved up, her well-proportioned breasts in their low cut slashed up Jagger top. She’d worn it for the band.

“Good to know you still want to eye me off.” The corners of her lips curled. “You’re not looking too bad yourself.” She drank in the skin-tight dark blue ripped jeans held up by a leather belt with a large silver buckle featuring two naked women. A few chains hung from the buckle to a side jean loop. He wore a white tank top and black leather jacket, and the curls on his chest matched the curls on his face and head; dark, thick, and luscious.

Remi had always wanted to run her hands through his hair. All of it. Every last curl on his tanned, muscular body. The way they moved, the way they taunted her with their sexuality, made her want to rip his clothes off and fuck every last curl on his body.

“Remi. Good to know your eyes still want to rip my clothes off and fuck me.” He nodded at the bartender and received a beer. “We could actually do that, you know.”

She walked around the bar and hitched a leg onto a stool to slide onto it. “Do what? What are you inviting me to do, Sexy Rexy?”

He set down his beer, wiped the foam from his beard, and leaned in.

His sexy, manly scent wafted around her, and she willingly breathed it in, getting high on the pheromones. “Rexy,” she breathed seductively, her eyes hooded with lust.

He spoke in her ear, his curls tickling her, his lips tormenting her. “I’m inviting you to fuck, Remi. You know what that is, don’t you? You’ve tried it a few times, or more, with the boys in the bands that play here.”

She breathed in sharply and blinked a few times to clear her thoughts. “You calling me a whore, Rex Titus?” Pulling away, her fury burned. “Are you? Because in that case, you’ll never get to sample, let alone try out, what I have.” She noticed the surprised look on his face, but she didn’t care. She spun around on her stool, and stomped off to her office, leaving him shaking his head.

“What the fuck!” Rex muttered, bewildered by her sudden change of mood. He stared at the door until he realised she wasn’t coming back out, picked up his beer and took another swig, and then with a frown, turned his back to watch the club scene. “Fucking hell.”

Remi stewed for twenty minutes, and then heard the band start playing. Gathering herself, she took a deep breath and walked back into the club.

After watching the boys on stage for a few moments, she slowly walked around the room, weaving through the screaming crowd watching the band on stage. Her love of music was deep-seated and she loved watching each member of each band as they performed. It was always the drummers that caught her eye. Up the back of the stage, they weren’t always obvious or noticeable, not in or under the main spotlights like the showman of the bands, who was usually the lead singer. Drummers were solid, sturdy, muscular and meatier. Their flesh was juicy and succulent, always engorged and ripe for the picking. And this drummer, Jace, was an animal; a driving beast who knew exactly which skin to pound and when, using all of his energy and masculine power to beat them. He knew exactly what to do with those drumsticks and it sent a thrill of electricity down her spine.

He noticed her, nodded, and kept on pounding. His dark wet curls bounced over his amber-green eyes that flared brightly at the attention. A smile crossed his lips and showed off dimples that were almost buried by the voluptuous round cheeks of his face. His shirt had come off when he’d come on stage, as it always did, and she made note to explore all of his tattoos before he left. She’d booked a bed in the sex room, a sectioned off part of the club for party goers to get sexual, and she had what he needed waiting for him. A blush raced across her face, and she moved on, hearing the lead singer get the crowd going.

“Come on everyone, scream my name,” Reece crooned, leaning toward the fans, reaching out his hand for them to touch. “Scream my name, baby. I love the way you scream my name.” He stood and cupped his ear to listen to the crowd chant his name, a huge grin on his face. “Louder now. Scream my name for me.”

Jett, the bassist, and Link, the guitarist, played a low tune, while Jace played a soft beat, all so they could hear the crowd.

“Come on baby,” Reece groaned to one girl as he held her hand. “Groan my name for me.” He held the microphone in front of her and she groaned his name before fainting. “Can we get the medics over here?” he asked, pointing to the girl.

The medic team rushed in and carried her to the side of the club to revive her.

“That’s what I like to see.” Reece stalked back and forth across the stage, reaching out to fans. “I love to see how you react to me. To the band. I love the way you scream my name in those sexy tones. Can you scream for Jett?” He motioned at the bassist and heard the crowd scream his name.

“Can you scream for Link?” He pointed to their guitarist and the crowd screamed for him.

“Can you scream for Jace?” He waved his hand around in a theatrical manner and bowed in front of the drum kit.

The crowd screamed the loudest for Jace and he waved his sticks in the air before throwing them both into the audience. The crowd surged forth and lunged for them, with two very excited girls getting one each.

“Wait…” Reece told the crowd, strutting around the stage in his tight white jeans and half-open shirt. “Did you just scream the loudest for Jace?”

The fans screamed back and a wave of whoos went through the crowd.

“Oh, no, that’s just not fair,” he said, undoing another button on his shirt. “Who did you scream the loudest for?” He flipped open another button and pulled one side of his shirt out of his low-slung jeans, gyrating in front of the crowd until five more fans fainted, and staff had to run around handing bottles of cold water to the rest of them. “I love the way you’re screaming my name, and the way you do it with no shame. Let’s get on with our song, boys, let’s hit it,” he called, and they launched into their hit, Scream My Name.

Standing up the back of the club watching the band, hands in his jeans pockets, Rex watched Remi as she wandered. He’d seen the exchange of looks with the drummer, saw her blush, and wondered if Jace was another on her list. Not that he knew if she had a list; it was just a rumour that the owner of The Cavern Club loved to indulge in sexual activity with band members, particularly drummers, when they played at the club. For all he knew, it was nothing but a rumour. For all he knew, after seeing the exchange, it was completely true.

So what! he thought with a shrug of a shoulder. She’s a grown woman; she can be with who she wants. But why isn’t that me? He’d desperately wanted to bed Remi since he’d met her four years ago, but she wasn’t interested in getting intimate even though she flirted outrageously with him. He was just a manager, not a drummer, and clearly didn’t have what she was after. He watched her pass by the bar and chat with Sisco in the hallway to her office. She nodded and walked behind the bar, picked up her drink, and downed half. He wanted to be that cola. Going down, down, down her throat. His gaze lowered to her throat, her breasts. Damn, I want to drink from those breasts. Fuck it, Remi, why won’t you fuck me? His gaze moved up and caught her watching him with raised brows. His brows descended to almost meet at the bridge of his nose and he spun on his heel and stormed off. He needed to relieve himself right now.

Perplexed, Remi turned her attention back to the band as they wrapped up their performance. She didn’t have the time or the energy to worry about Rex or what he thought of her, but how dare he think she was a whore because of rumours? She had the rest of the night to deal with.

The band took a fifteen-minute break while things were set up for the meet and greet, and then they came out and spent another hour taking photos, signing merchandise, and doing videos with their fans. It was heading for eleven when they finally made it upstairs for the after-show interview.

Donatella welcomed them to the couches and offered drinks, making sure everyone was comfortable before starting the interview.

They were ten minutes in when Jace said he wanted Remi to join them.

“You want to share your interview with the club owner?” Donatella asked and glanced at the others. “You boys have a problem with that?”

They replied no and Jace leaned over the back of the couch and yelled out to Remi. “Come up here and do our interview with us.”

She glanced up wearily from behind the bar.

“Come on,” he encouraged and gave her a big wink. “Let’s have some fun.”

She snickered and grabbed her drink before making her way upstairs. “Where am I sitting?”

“Right here.” Jace pointed to his left and moved over, pushing Reece out of the way. “Right next to me, babe.”

“Babe,” Remi huffed. “Am I your babe now?” She settled in and managed to get her cup into her left hand as Jace swung his leg over her right one. “You right?” She looked at him. “Sure you don’t want to sit on my lap?”

“Ooh, can I?” he asked and gazed at her expectantly.

“No,” was all she said.

He leaned closer. “Do you want me to get off?”

“Didn’t you already?” She eyed him up and down and watched him laugh nervously.

“Whoo. We’ve got a live one here,” he called.

“It’s fairly obvious that isn’t a drumstick in your pocket.” She gave him a saucy wink and casually glanced at the other members who were bright red and giggling.

Jace’s eyes grew wide, and he fanned himself with his left hand while picking up his water bottle from the coffee table with his right. He took a swig and then poured some on his head and patted his neck and half bare chest. “Is it hot in here or what? Whoo.”

The band laughed, and Donatella reached across Remi to shove the microphone into Jace’s face. “It looks like you’ve got the hots for a certain club owner.”

“Who wouldn’t?” he replied and waved a hand up and down her body. “Look at her. Look. At. Her.”

Remi blushed and took a sip of her drink before placing it back between her legs so it didn’t fall over.

Jace picked it up and drank from it while watching her nonchalantly. “Who wouldn’t have the hots for a woman like this? Look at her.” He took another sip. “What is this?”

“Tropical juice and lemonade.” She watched him, knew the band was watching him, and the reporter was watching him.

“Mmm,” he murmured, raising both brows. He sucked and swallowed, and then seductively placed the cup back between her legs, pushing it up a little further his gaze never leaving hers.

Unable to say a thing, Remi just breathed and shook her head.

“You know what they say about drummers?” Donatella said to Jace.

“What?” Jace replied, watching the scene before him.

“Drummers bang it harder,” Donatella said.

“Then bang me like a fucking bass drum,” Remi muttered, her eyes hooded and her blood pulsating through her veins.

“Should we be talking about this on camera?” Donatella asked, looking at her producer who gave her the signal to keep going. This was TV gold and she wanted more.

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s just telling me he wants to put other things between my legs,” Remi said, her gaze never leaving Jace’s.

“Didn’t I already do that this afternoon?” Jace murmured, staring at Remi’s thick red lips. “Let’s go again.”

“Okay, let’s rein this in a bit, shall we,” Donatella said and asked Link and Jett a couple of questions.

Remi and Jace eyed each other, sly smiles lifting the corners of their mouths. Remi had planned a little going away present for him and had hoped to get him alone before he left.

“So, Remi, you’re obviously a fan of Jagger,” Donatella said and pointed at Remi’s t-shirt that had been artistically cut up. “You came dressed for the occasion.”

“Why are you pointing at my breasts?” Remi asked cheekily.

“Yeah, Donatella.” Jace spread his hands across both of Remi’s breasts. “Stop pointing at her breasts.”

Remi stared from his hands to his face, to Donatella’s, speechless.

Donatella kept it cool. “You know, she could #metoo you for that move.”

Remi raised a brow at him, trying not to laugh. But all he did was raise one back.

“Aren’t you going to say something, Remi?” Donatella asked.

Remi slowly glanced at her. “What does one say at a time like this?” She glanced at his hand, picked it up with two fingers, and dropped it in his lap.

“Don’t you feel sexually harassed? Manhandled?” Donatella asked, seeing the heat rise from both of them. The attraction was blaringly obvious.

“I do.” Remi nodded and looked at her. “I feel very manhandled, and I have absolutely no problem with it whatsoever.”

“Whoo.” The boys in the band catcalled and whistled, applauding her.

“But aren’t you in love? Aren’t you in a relationship?” Donatella asked. “Rumours have it you are, so why flirt with someone else when your partner’s where? At home?”

Remi had always been private about her personal relationships, and the current one hadn’t lasted long enough, or made it into the press, so how Donatella had found out, she didn’t know. “Actually, I’m just coming out the arse end of it.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good.” Donatella shoved the microphone into Remi’s face. “What happened? Who broke up with whom? Who did it first?”

“Well, to begin with, it didn’t last all that long, and was great while it did. But in the end, he got what he wanted, and I’ve been left alone and feeling very used.”

“That’s not good.” Jace turned to the camera. “To the arsehole out there who got what he wanted out of this woman and then left her like a piece of rubbish”— he thrust his finger at the camera— “you are an arsehole and you suck.” He leaned back and put a protective arm around Remi’s shoulder.

“I’m just glad I didn’t.” Remi glanced from the camera to Jace, staring him in the eye and waiting for him to get the joke.

He stared back and finally got it, then laughed his head off. “Oh, my God, I love it.”

“Are you in love, Jace?” Donatella reached across Remi.

“Absolutely,” he replied. “I’m in love with this woman right here.” He held his hand above her head and pointed his finger down. “She’s incredible, talented, amazing, sexy and intelligent, and some arsehole dumped her. Your loss, my gain, and she didn’t suck!”

“Okay, so we’ll wrap this up with a few more questions.” Donatella tried to control their laughter. “Now that you’ve celebrated twenty years together, and have had your anniversary, and come off your most successful tour of your most successful album, what’s next for Jagger?”

Remi held her breath and glanced down. Sipping from her cup, she avoided looking at everyone else.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s time for a holiday,” Jace said, keeping things casual. “We’ve been touring non-stop, recording non-stop, performing non-stop for twenty years. It’s time for a holiday.”

“And how long would that be for before you’re back in the studio writing for the next album?” Donatella asked.

“I don’t know. We’ve done this for twenty years, so how long should a holiday be? Twenty seconds? Twenty minutes?” he joked and looked at Reece.

“Twenty hours,” Reece added.

“Twenty days,” Jett said.

“Twenty weeks,” Link went on as the boys laughed.

“Twenty months, twenty years. Who knows, but we bloody well deserve it.” Jace ran his hand through his hair and glanced at their manager and record execs standing behind the cameras with confused expressions. He’d spoken to the boys about taking a break, but no one else, and they’d agreed they wanted one too. “Twenty years sounds good. Same amount of time we’ve been working.”

“Regardless of how long the holiday is, you bloody deserve it,” Donatella replied. “Any idea where you’ll go?”

“I might hang out under a palm tree on the beach,” Link said.

“I’ve always wanted to hang out in Paris for a few months,” Jett replied. “Get arty, find some Parisian influence.”

“Paris sounds good,” Reece said, nodding. “I want to hang out in the Greek islands on a yacht.”

“It’s not as if you can’t afford it after twenty years,” Donatella said. “Jace?”

Jace picked up Remi’s cup and took a sip. “Desert, seaside, wherever my whims take me. I’ll see the world while the world can’t see me.”

“Sounds poetic. Any idea when you’ll come back and start writing and recording a new album?” Donatella thrust the microphone at Jace.

“No idea. As of tonight, we’re no longer with our record company, so we get to take all the time in the world off and do what we want when we want. No one has any say except for the four of us.”

Remi glanced up sharply, her brows furrowed, but Jace gave nothing away. She breathed in and glanced away.

“Did you know about this?” Donatella asked Remi.

Remi shook her head. “Why would I? It’s just as much a surprise to me as it is for their manager and the record execs.”

They all looked over at the men behind the cameras. All were on their phones, trying to figure out what to do.

“We didn’t resign because we’re done,” Jace said. “Not forever, but for now, while we have a well-earned break.” He looked at the camera and put his hands together in prayer. “Thank you so much to all of our fans for your love and support over the last twenty years, but we need a break and we’re going to have one. Thank you very much. Let’s go boys. Thanks, Donatella.” Jace grabbed Remi’s hand and pulled her to her feet as he left. The boys followed, as he’d always been their unofficial leader as the eldest, and their manager and record people trailed behind. They’d already talked and made the decision, all had been overworked, all were over drugged, and all were alcoholic. And all wanted a break and time to detox. They also all had other plans.

Jace pulled Remi down the stairs and headed for the red curtained cordoned off entrance to the sex rooms. He waved goodbye to the boys, and they slipped between the curtains. “Let’s fuck before I go, because I take it you’re shipping me off somewhere.”

Remi opened a door off the hallway. “Why didn’t you tell me you had that organised?” She locked the door behind them. “If you’ve all decided to take a year or two off, why do I need to help you escape?”

With his dick already hanging free, Jace pulled Remi against him and kissed her. “They only decided this afternoon. We all had the same plan but hadn’t said anything in case someone at the record company found out and stopped us.” He pulled her skirt up and slammed her against the wall. “Let’s get this over with before I leave.”

One minute of grunting, thrusting, and coming later, they took a moment to get their breath.

“Okay. So, you all had the same plan. Do they need help getting away?”

“Not from what they said this afternoon.” Jace tucked himself away. “They’ve got their plans sorted. The only problem was the contract.”

“And that ended this week? Today? What was it?” Remi slid her skirt down and adjusted her top.

“It ended at midnight last night. Or this morning. And we refused to sign the whole time they’ve pressured us into signing it. We kept telling them we’d have that chat after this show. But it all came out when we spoke this afternoon.”

“Okay, so I guess I’d better get you out of here before anyone asks questions.” Remi opened the door and glanced out, but all she saw were her men. “Come on.” She led him down the hall and out the back door.

In the band room, their manager was trying to convince them to stay. “We’re only one day past the contract. You can still sign it.”

“We’re done,” Reece told him as he packed his bag. “Mentally, physically. We all need a break. A long one.”

“And you can have that,” a big bruiser of a record exec said. “After you sign your new contract.”

“You do realise we don’t actually have to sign with you again, right?” Jett asked as he hoisted his bag over his shoulder. “We’re not signing with you because we no longer want to be with your company.” He picked up his guitar case. “Sayonara, suckers. I’m off to Paris.”

“And I’m off to my tropical island.” Link followed him.

Reece brought up the rear. “Where’s Jace? Has he left already? His stuff is gone.”

The record execs rushed upstairs to the entrance off the sex rooms, but bouncers stopped them.

“No one’s allowed back here.”

“We need Jace.”

“He’s already left with Remi. They were giggling like kids when they left via the back door, so I suggest you go too.”

With a grunt, the execs stormed off to formulate a plan.

CHAPTER 2

“Freddy, make sure we’re stocked up on the hard stuff. I noticed we’d gone through a fair bit of it last month.” Remi’s finger slid down the list of alcohol they regularly ordered, and she noticed they were missing a few. “I have a feeling some of our guests might be absconding with bottles out the back door after being privately entertained.”

“Sure, boss.” Freddy stopped polishing the glass in his hand. “Ah, boss, you’ve got a visitor.” He watched the man walking across the club floor.

From her spot at the bar, Remi glanced up to the mirrors on the bar wall and saw him coming.

Black suit, grey shirt, his hair black and neatly trimmed. A close shaved beard expertly highlighted his cheekbones, and thick brows and dark lashes framed his dark brown eyes.

“Ah, excuse me. I was told the club owner was in. Are you Remi Steele?”

“I am.” Remi finally glanced over her shoulder. “And you are?”

“Detective Drew Reilly.” He flashed his badge and glanced from the woman to the man behind the bar. “Can we talk in private?”

“What’s it about?” Remi turned around and crossed her arms. Leaning against the bar, she had a close-up view of the man in front of her. Five ten to eleven at most. Trim, but fit build that his suit hung slightly loose on. He was quite attractive in a dark and hairy Mediterranean way. Just the way she liked some of them. Dark and hairy. Like Rex. Like Detective Drew Reilly.

“It’s about a missing musician.” Drew slid his badge into his pocket and pulled out his notebook, flipping through a few pages. “Trent Sexton. Goes by the name T-Sex from the band, Sexton. Apparently, they played here a few weeks back.” He looked at Remi. “He hasn’t been seen since and his family asked me to look into it.”

Remi’s left brow rose. “Asked you personally, did they? Special favours for friends.”

Drew blushed. “Ah, no. I meant they came to the police to file a report and it was passed on to my division. I got the case and spoke to the family, band members, management, etc. They asked me when I spoke to them.”

“Ah.” Remi nodded thoughtfully. “Do you know that he’s actually missing? I mean, he could have just walked away.” She turned back to the bar and her paperwork. “Some people do, you know.”

“Do what?” Drew asked, taking in her shapely figure from behind.

“Walk away.” Remi tidied her notes. “Sorry, detective, can’t help you. As you said, they played a few weeks ago. What Trent did, or what happened to him after that, I don’t know.”

“Except it wasn’t after that.” Drew moved to her side. “It was that night that he disappeared.”

“What night?” Remi cast a glance his way. “The night they played here?”

“Yes. Which is why I’m here. To find answers.” Drew’s gaze moved around the club. “I take it you have rooms for the band to prepare.” He tapped his pen against his notebook and slowly walked past the bar, seeing the red curtains. He pointed his pen at them. “And what’s behind there? Some special area for celebrities? Did Trent go in there? What’s back there?”

Remi walked up behind him. “Private rooms for celebrities, wealthy business men and women. People who want to enjoy the music while having a private party. Anything else?” She placed her right hand on his back and turned him towards the entrance to move him along, her left hand motioning the way to the door.

He grabbed her left arm and they stopped as the electricity crackled between them.

Her breath came out in a gasp, and she gazed from his hooded eyes to his dimples hidden just under the precision cut top of his beard. His lips were well proportioned, and the hair neatly trimmed around them.

“Sorry.” He let her arm go. “I didn’t mean to… Did I hurt you?”

“Um…” Remi breathed out and glanced away, aroused by the softness of his voice. She rubbed her arm. “No, I oh…” Breathing in, she rubbed her lips together. “I don’t think I can help you. I’m sorry. I have no idea what happened to… What was his name? Trent from whatever band. They come, they play, they stay to play in the club, and then they leave. What happens after that…” Her voice trailed off and she shrugged a shoulder.

“I understand,” Drew said. “I’d still like your footage from that night if you don’t mind.” He looked up at the ceiling for the cameras. “A place like this would have a lot of protection against lawsuits and whatnot. You’d surely keep the footage for longer than seventy-two hours or a week.” He dared not look at Remi. His heart was still pounding and his dick had aroused from its slumber.

Remi sighed and thought through a few things. “We do, in case of legal action. I guess my manager could find the night in question and send it through to you. Or hand deliver.” Her stomach clenched and released in quick time, adjusting itself to the beating of her heart. Not many men attracted her. But Drew Reilly was one of them. Just like Rex Titus. And just like Jace. She cleared her throat. “Do you have a card, or contact details? My manager will get it to you by the end of the day.” Her gaze darted to him and then away.

“Sure.” He pulled a card from his pocket. “He can get it to me here.”

Remi took it and read the plain black font on the matte white card. Detective Drew Reilly. Metropolitan Police Force. She committed his number to memory. “I’ll make sure you get it.”

“Thank you.” Drew’s gaze moved from her to the stage before he did a slow 180. “What’s that back there?” Pointing to the back of the club, he took a few steps forward. “Special booth?”

“Yes.” Remi slid the card through her fingers. “Guests can book it out and have up to twenty people. Champagne, caviar, whatever. We call it The Golden Ring. Freddy,” she called out. “Flick on the lights for the ring.”

Freddy nodded and ducked down behind the bar. Seconds later, the seating area lit up in gold.

“Whoa.” Blinded by the light, Drew flung his hand up to shade his eyes as he walked over to it. “The best seat in the place, huh.”