The Glamorous One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance Page 4

  “Sure, no problem.” Kynley nodded. Her attention was back on Dalton. His face lit with joy as he played, and when he saw her watching, he threw her a wink.

  “We need to go.” Sebastian slipped into the chair at Kynley’s side. He glanced at his Rolex. “It’s already after seven.”

  The plane would leave at eight. When they’d made the schedule, Kynley hadn’t thought she’d want to stay longer than a few hours. See the girls, play a bit of catch-up, then hurry back to LA to luxuriate in the peace and quiet of a few days off.

  She hadn’t planned on having such a good time. She hadn’t planned on meeting Dalton.

  How much longer would he play? She didn’t want to interrupt him, but she also didn’t want to leave without telling him goodbye. It would leave something unfinished.

  “Kynley, let’s go,” Sebastian pressed.

  “Okay,” she stalled. “But I need to say goodbye.” She gathered her things and made the rounds to each of the camp girls, who all gave her hugs and made her promise to stay in touch.

  “Let me know when you’ve decided on a time and place for your wedding,” she told Taylor. “I don’t know what my schedule is yet, but I’ll definitely try to come.”

  “Will do,” Taylor promised. “We’re not sure, though, are we?” She cast a loving look at Lane.

  “I’m trying to talk her into getting married at the pyramids in Mexico,” Lane said with a grin. “I’ve been dying to go there ever since she told me about them.”

  Kynley did not miss the look that passed between the two of them. Total devotion. She forced a smile. “It sounds awesome. I’ll do my best to be there,” she promised. She gave Taylor one last hug and started across the room, hoping Dalton would see her leaving so she could at least wave. But they were at the back of the room and his view was blocked by dancers. It was silly, this feeling of loss, as if she was leaving someone she’d known a lot longer than a few hours. She felt like a little kid, dragging her feet and refusing to go, as she followed Sebastian out the door and through the foyer of the museum.

  “Kynley!”

  Her heart leap and she whirled around as Dalton hurried toward them, steadying his guitar with one hand. “You’re leaving?” His forehead creased in concern. “Why?”

  “Our plane leaves soon,” she said and her voice trembled, a little carried away at the sheer gladness he’d noticed and come to her.

  “Bummer.” His face fell. “I hoped you’d sing with me.”

  “She doesn’t perform for free,” Sebastian snapped.

  “Okay.” Dalton shrugged, seeming to take Sebastian’s mood in stride. His brown eyes searched her face. “I had fun tonight. Maybe we could get together sometime and jam?”

  Her butterflies were back, the new, breathless breed, not the old stagey performer ones. She answered his smile with one of her own. “That’d be fun.”

  “You have my number, be in touch?”

  The butterflies grew, filling her. “Okay.”

  “Don’t encourage people like that,” Sebastian warned when they were in the limo headed toward the airport. Marco drove and Carl sat with him in the front, so Kynley and Sebastian had the back to themselves.

  “People like what?”

  His head bent over the screen of his phone, the display reflecting off the car windows as he texted. “That guitar player. He wants you to pull strings for him.”

  “He wasn’t—”

  “Please,” Sebastian interrupted, scoffing. “Of course he was. You think it was a coincidence he performed tonight?”

  “He’s Erin’s brother,” Kynley said defensively. “It makes sense she’d ask him to play.”

  “Uh-huh. Right after he’d cozied up to you for twenty minutes?”

  She’d been in the business long enough to kill any naivety, but had not yet developed Sebastian’s level of cynicism. But his words stung all the same. Had the performance been Dalton’s goal all along? It hadn’t felt that way. It had felt genuine.

  She stared out the window, the view beyond darkening and made darker still by the heavy tint on the windows. Sebastian had insisted on the limo and she was glad no one had been outside to see her leave. As she’d climbed in the car, she’d seen the other limo—white where theirs was black—waiting to take Erin and Matt off on their honeymoon. That she should have one too seemed so … pretentious.

  Sebastian stiffened, then cursed darkly.

  “What?” Kynley’s head whipped around.

  “The plane’s having a mechanical problem.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  But Sebastian didn’t answer. He’d hit a button and jerked the phone to his ear and Kynley turned back to the window. Whatever was happening with the plane, Sebastian would work it out. That’s why she’d hired him.

  Her fingers clenched in her lap as her thoughts returned to Dalton. No matter what Sebastian thought, she’d seen his eyes and it wasn’t ambition burning there; it was love of music.

  Chapter Four

  They ended up spending the night at a Marriott near the Asheville airport and Sebastian’s mood went from bad to worse when he discovered the hotel didn’t have any suites available on last-minute notice.

  But Kynley didn’t care. She shut the door to her room and kicked off her red heels with relief.

  Her stomach growled, and she realized she hadn’t eaten much at the reception. It was hard to eat with Sebastian around. When they’d hired him, he’d ordered her on a diet. She hadn’t been overweight before, but she’d obediently cut out carbs and sugar and had dropped twelve pounds in the last three months. The weight loss, along with extra cardio, had toned her muscles and given her more stamina, which was good for performing, though sometimes she saw her jutting collarbone and skinny arms and felt a little … frail. Not to mention flat. If Sebastian wanted her to show off her curves, he should probably start letting her eat doughnuts or there wouldn’t be a lot of curves left before long.

  She ordered a salad from room service, then flopped down on the bed and looked at her phone. It was only a little past nine. Were Erin and Matt still at the reception? Was Dalton?

  Kynley pulled up the video Dalton had sent of Erin singing the Camp Wallakee song and watched it, giggling. Only Erin could pull that off with such poise. Well, she was a stage actress, after all.

  Her eyes lingered on the phone number attached to the video. Dalton’s number. Was he serious about getting together to jam, or as Sebastian said, had it been a measured attempt to break into the industry?

  Kynley groaned in frustration and let her phone drop to the bedspread. She didn’t want to live like that—always on the defensive, doubting the good intentions of everyone she met. Was that the price of fame?

  She got up and shed her clothes on the way to the bathroom, where a hot shower helped to soothe her jangled nerves.

  If only it could wash away the ache of loneliness. Silly to be lonely when she was surrounded by a team of people at all times and hardly ever went anywhere alone. Even now, Marco had the room next door and Sebastian was down the hall, a mere text away. But they were paid to be there.

  Kynley had no one to really talk to, to share her feelings with, no one who she felt genuinely had her back. Her family was supportive, but from a distance. Her parents stayed on the farm while her two sisters were busy raising their families. True, the band members were like the brothers she’d never had, but they did things without her. Even Gabbi had her own life outside of Jilted Storm. And with the new direction Sebastian planned, Kynley felt even more isolated—we had become me, and no matter how much she wanted the fame Sebastian had promised, the adjustment still stung.

  She’d just changed into pajamas when her food arrived and she picked at the salad in front of the TV. Her mind drifted back to Dalton. They’d only known each other for a couple of hours, but she couldn’t deny the way he’d made her feel, like she was lighting up from the inside.

  She decided to trust her instinct.

  Th
e sparkler in his hand gave a brief flare, then died as Dalton waved goodbye to the back of the limo, bearing his sister away for her happily ever after.

  “Whew! I’m beat.” His mother came to his side and grasped his arm. “What about you?” There were smudges under her eyes where she’d wiped at mascara-laden tears, and her lipstick had faded.

  “Yeah, exhausted,” he said.

  Her eyes followed the taillights as the limo disappeared around the corner. “I hope they make each other happy,” she said with a sigh. She clutched his arm as they walked back toward the gallery.

  Dalton dropped the spent sparkler into the bucket of water by the door. “Erin was glowing brighter than any sparkler today, Mom. You know they’ll be happy.”

  It was true. And even though he knew his parents would have liked to see Erin marry someone not in the starving artist category, they’d grown to love Matt and had high hopes his glass art would take off.

  His mother looked around at the rapidly dispersing crowd. “Where’s that brother of yours? We’d better go find out what we have to do before we leave.”

  She moved away, leaving him standing alone, and in that moment he wished more than anything he had someone to share this day with. Not his own wedding—he wasn’t ready for that—but someone to simply be here, with him, sharing in the joy and the excitement. Someone he could hold, dance with, kiss.

  It had almost seemed possible when he danced with Kynley. The way her hand had fit so perfectly in his, the warmth of her skin, the way she smelled—flowery, kind of like lilacs. The scent didn’t go with her rocker chick image at all, but he liked it.

  Rocker chick … even now it was hard to believe he’d actually met Kynley Salvatici from Jilted Storm. And along with being totally gorgeous and sexy, she’d turned out to be a very cool person and more down to earth than he ever would have expected. The memory of her laugh sent a thrill racing through him.

  “Dalton!” His father’s voice cut through his thoughts. He turned to see his dad approaching with an unfamiliar man, who was impeccably dressed in an expensive suit and wore his dark hair cropped short. “This is Javier Barrus. He owns several fast food franchises downtown and I told him you were heading up the new direct mail campaign.” He turned to Mr. Barrus. “Dalton can help you expand your reach.”

  The thrill faded and Dalton reentered reality. “Oh. Great to meet you,” he said, forcing a smile as they shook hands. “Have you tried direct mail before?”

  Mr. Barrus launched into a detailed description of his latest mailbox ad, and Dalton crossed his arms and tried to concentrate.

  He would never forget holding Kynley in his arms, but she’d probably already forgotten about him. She dated rock stars, not ad salesmen. How could he ever compete with that?

  Kynley’s phone rang. She burrowed under the pillow and ignored it. She’d only been asleep a few hours and if it was Sebastian calling to tell her they were ready to leave, she’d straight up smack him.

  The phone stopped ringing as the caller went to voicemail, but then started ringing again immediately. Kynley sat up, instantly awake. The back-to-back call was never good.

  It was Mick, their drummer. Kynley jabbed the answer button.

  “Leeson quit.”

  “What?” Her stomach flipped. “Why? He can’t quit; we have a show.”

  “Yeah, I know. But he found out Sebastian cut us from the beach scene and blew up. He called me ten minutes ago and told me he was done.”

  Kynley raked her fingers through the tangles in her hair. “I’ll call him.”

  “Good luck with that,” Mick mumbled, and she caught the implication. Leeson hated Sebastian, but he was no friend to Kynley right now either. Why should he listen to her?

  “I’ll call you right back,” she promised Mick.

  It was just past four in the morning. She ended the call and pulled up Leeson’s number, her fingers sticky with sweat. He couldn’t quit, not with everything coming up. What would this mean for the concert? Or the video they’d barely finished shooting? What about his contract?

  “No, no, no, no,” she murmured as the phone connected and Leeson’s voicemail began playing. “Leeson, it’s me. Please call back. We need to talk about this,” she pleaded after the beep.

  She hung up and immediately called Mick again.

  “Told ya,” he said when he answered.

  “Does anyone know where he is?” The concert in Denver wasn’t until next week so Leeson should have been at his apartment in LA.

  “I haven’t seen him since we flew home from the video shoot.” Mick paused. “He already tweeted it, Kynley.”

  Kynley’s heart fell. So this was no misunderstanding that could be cleared up and smoothed over. If Leeson had gone public, he meant it. “What is he thinking?” she burst out. “He’s going to ruin everything.”

  “I know,” Mick sighed. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Did you call Sebastian?” Kynley asked.

  “Nooo.” He drew the word out and the implication was clear. She was Sebastian’s favorite. She’d wanted to hire him. And now it was her job to tell him.

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Keep trying to reach Leeson and let me know if you hear anything. I’ll tell Sebastian.” He might have seen the tweet already. Did he ever sleep?

  They hung up and Kynley went to the bathroom. She soaked a washcloth in warm water and scrubbed her face while fear, anger, and helplessness raced through her. Now what?

  She threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and went down the hall to knock on Sebastian’s door.

  Kynley winced as Sebastian pounded his fist on the wall, muttering swear words and evidently not caring if anyone in the hotel was trying to sleep.

  “That slimy little weasel! I’ll sue him in ten different ways, and when I’m done, he’ll beg for mercy!” Sebastian raged.

  Kynley hunched in the uncomfortable desk chair, her phone clutched in her hand as she monitored Leeson’s tweet and the reaction from fans. There hadn’t been much feedback so far—mostly because it wasn’t even five in the morning yet—but there would be once people started waking up and the news spread.

  “So what do we do?” she asked. “Gio’s not back for weeks, if ever.” Their backup guitarist, Gio, had crashed his motorcycle and torn up his shoulder. There was no chance he could play the Denver show.

  Sebastian ground out several more curse words.

  “So what do we do?” Kynley asked again, quelling a feeling of rising panic. If they had to cancel the show, what would that do to their reputation? Not to mention their bottom line. Jilted Storm was doing okay, but they couldn’t afford to blow off a major concert.

  “Guitar players are everywhere,” Sebastian said dismissively, as if the show was the least of his problems. “I’ll call some people. He’s trying to throw his weight around, but he’s not going to get away it.” His eyes snapped with anger, and in spite of her own worry, Kynley felt a little sorry for Leeson. No one played hardball better than Sebastian.

  Speaking of eyes … the sparkle of Dalton’s mocha eyes came to mind, the way he’d winked at her from the stage. “I know someone,” Kynley said, leaping up from the chair.

  Sebastian gave her a long, speculative look. “Why don’t you let me figure this out?” he said. “It’s why you’re paying me.”

  She hesitated at the door. He was the manager, always in control; didn’t he know better? She was the talent. As he’d told her from their first meeting, “You’re the music; I’m the business.”

  But this felt … right. Like something had clicked into place. The feeling she’d had when she’d first seen Dalton rose again and she shook her head. “I want to try this.”

  Sebastian reluctantly nodded, and Kynley hurried to her room.

  Chapter Five

  He considered Kynley’s offer all day. In the car driving to work, in the bakery where he’d stopped to buy doughnuts for the office, at his desk while his emails went unanswered and phone
calls unreturned, over his uneaten sandwich at lunch. Finally, after a full day of non-productivity, Dalton made his choice. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling as he called Kynley, then went about making sure his staff could cover for him. He kept it together, even though he wanted to jump around the room hollering for joy.

  But it was a slightly different story later that night when he arrived at his parents’ house for dinner. His gut churned.

  “So Dad, I thought I’d take a week off,” he said after they’d said grace.

  “Starting when?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Silverware stopped in midair as both his parents stared at him.

  “Tomorrow?” Dalton’s dad repeated incredulously. “What about your work?”

  His work mainly consisted of organizing accounts, making sure clients were happy and their ads were run on time. Anyone could do his work. “I spent all afternoon delegating. My team can handle it,” Dalton said. “Plus, I’ll call and check in.”

  His mother’s perfect eyebrows furrowed in worry. “Why so suddenly?”

  “I met one of Erin’s friends at the wedding yesterday who’s in a band. She called me this morning; they need an emergency guitar player.”

  His father thumped the basket of rolls onto the table. “Do we have to go through this again? I thought you had that nonsense out of your system.”

  The days in his own band were the best of Dalton’s life. He and a couple of friends had gotten together in college and decided to go for it. Rehearsing in garages, basements, empty classrooms. Sinking every spare dollar into equipment. Driving hours to play a gig in some smelly bar, loving the music, but also hoping desperately that maybe this time, they’d be discovered. None of them had had any contacts in the recording industry; they were just a bunch of guys who really wanted to make music.

  And make it in music. But the magical day of discovery had never come.

  “It’s only for a few weeks,” Dalton repeated now, trying to act casual as he spooned chicken lasagna onto his plate. As if famous rock stars called and offered him a chance at his dream every day.