Page 2 of Backstage with a Billionaire Rockstar

“Mia,” he rasps, the sound making my toes curl – good thing I’ve my good boots on, so no one can see the action. “She’s my bodyguard.”

His hand connects with Brent’s chest, eyebrows wagging suggestively as he praises him for a job well done, and it takes everything inside of me not to roll my eyes.

“Hi,” I say, my tone void of emotion.

Julia rises from her place on the couch, walking up to me with a bright smile and hand outstretched toward mine, and says, “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Julia.”

When it comes to my line of work, you can’t get attached. I’ve got a job to do, and that doesn’t include making friends with someone who’s not my client. She frowns briefly when I don’t reciprocate the smile but shakes her head and decides the walls I built up are fine.

Evan is leaning forward at the edge of the couch, confusion spread across his perfect face, and I clear my throat. “I was supposed to talk with someone when I arrived. Carmen?”

Brent nods, then rises from his place on the couch before waving a hand toward a long hallway. “Down through there, and it’s the first door on the right. She’s been expecting you.”

At the same time, Evan’s mouth pops open in shock and he frowns. “You were serious about being my bodyguard.”

This time, I throw him a wink over my shoulder and smirk. “It’s good to be working with you, Evan.”

As I walk away, I can’t help but look back at Evan and wish that he would get a small fraction of emotion in his eyes to let me know he remembers me—it never happens. With each step I take toward the door Brent directed me to, the more clearly an image from our night together six years ago flashes into my head.

The bright neon lights flash over the crowd, casting a faint glow over their unbalanced movements in the center of the floor, and I roll my eyes at the sight. This is why I never drink and dance – I’d do nothing but make a fool of myself.

If it weren’t for my best friend, Kenzie, pulling me out of the comfort of my apartment, I wouldn’t be here at all right now.

“You look lonely,” a deep voice says beside me, his breath tickling the edge of my ear and letting me know exactly how close he’s leaning in.

I shy away from him and roll my eyes, then casually glance over at him. My plan was to tell him where to stick it, but the moment my eyes clash with his green ones every thought leaves my brain for a moment.

He watches me curiously as I quietly study his form leaning against the bar, and I finally shake from the stupor he’s seemed to put me in.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I mumble.

His gaze shines with amusement, and he flashes a bright smile in my direction before waving at the bartender in front of us. She barely spares me a glance, focusing entirely on the gorgeous stranger, and I can’t blame her.

There’s tattoos trailing beautifully down the length of his arm, he is taller than most of the men I’ve been around, and he’s got this energy that makes you want to hang onto his every word. It also doesn’t help that his dirty blonde hair is slicked back into a man bun while sporting a t-shirt and leather jacket with ripped jeans.

He’s the ultimate package.

Once he’s got the glass of whiskey neat sitting in front of him, he rolls the pad of his thumb along the rim before swallowing a large sip of it.

Some of the amber liquid drips from his mouth, skating down his chin, and I watch as it lands on his chest.

He clears his throat, forcing me to snap my gaze up to his with heated cheeks. I can’t believe he’s watched me ogle him more than once – this is not me. Instead of continuing to stare at him, I try to search the surrounding area for Kenzie in hopes that she’ll save me from making an even bigger fool of myself.

No such luck.

“So,” the stranger says, aiming a crooked grin in my direction. “You gonna tell me your name, darlin'?"

My belly dips at the nickname, but I manage to keep my features calm and collected while arching a brow at him. “Why would I do that?”

He chuckles and holds a hand out to me, his eyes boring into mine like he’s trying to figure me out – good luck with that. “I’m Evan. Now, what is a beautiful woman like yourself doing over here all alone?”

I scoff. “Does that normally work for you?”

“Not sure what you mean, darlin’.”

“As much as I’d love to continue this conversation, I’ve got a friend to go in search of,” I say quickly, not liking the way his nickname seeps through my veins and has my pussy clenching with need. “Nice to meet you, Evan.”

While I’m walking away, desperate to get away from the way he’s making my body respond, he says, “You never gave me your name!”

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