Page 35 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

I swallow hard, tasting bile in the back of my throat.

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” he says, pulling his seventy-dollar steak back toward himself. “But I urge you to think it over before the decision is made for you. Promise me you’ll do that.”

I nod. “I’ll think about it.”

He smiles. “Excellent.”

The rest of dinner is... about as awkward as one would expect, even with Mr. Monroe changing subjects to talk about his recent honeymoon with Harmony’s mother.

Actually, that just makes it evenmoreawkward.

When the check finally arrives, my club sandwich weighs in my stomach like a dull rock.

I deserve better?

Better than Criminal Records?

Better than Knox? And Jonah? And Katrina and Addison?

And Bronson?

Sure, they’re a pain in my ass most days. They have their flaws, but so do I.

I can’t leave them.

Why would Ieverleave them?

“Call me,” Monroe says to me down in the hotel lobby as he gives me another one of his firm handshakes. “Sooner. Not later.”

I nod. “I will, sir.”

He grins triumphantly before walking off, crossing the golden lobby toward the exit.

Once he’s gone, I release a heavy sigh.

No,I answer him in my head.

Criminal Records is my band. My family.

The answer is and always will be,no.

I ride the elevator to the fourteenth floor, needing to get back to my suite. Needing to strip off my clothes and wash theickof this evening off my skin as soon as possible.

The elevator doors open on our floor. I step off and turn left toward?—

I stop mid-step, surprised by the crowd gathered outside my room.

Knox. Jonah. Addison. Katrina. Bronson.

And the others. Harmony. Harvey. August. Chrissy.

The latter gives me an apologetic look.

I clear my throat. “What’s going on, guys?”

They don’t reply, but it’s written all over their faces.

I’m in trouble.

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