Page 51 of Knot Just A Fan

“I’ve already had messages from other promoters, including the one for tomorrow’s gig in Nantes. You have Barcelona three nights after that, then another day before coming back up to Paris. So maybe that break will be good for clearing your heads, but for now, we need to get them down and focused for the next two gigs.”

“They’re not happy, I take it,” Enzo rumbles.

“Fucking astute,” Ash says in a neutral tone. “I’ve had demands. Barcelona asked I sign a contract stating you will indeed perform a full encore of five full songs. I’ve agreed, to keep the peace. And since Willow won’t be here mucking shit up, we can move ahead. Agreed?”

I applaud him silently for handling this so well and not tearing my head off. I don’t know that I would be so merciful.

“Yes, that is appreciated, Ash.”

“Well done, Ashley,” says Enzo with a grin. Ash shoots him a dirty look then continues. He hates his birth name but when we learned it, we kept it in our back pockets. Either to piss him off or lighten a mood. Though I think, secretly, he enjoys that we have this intel and use it as a kind of,You’re in our pack but not.

Ash vehemently doesn’t want a pack, but I know he hates being single. He wants an Omega. He just doesn’t want to share her. And Omegas are in the business of matching with a pack, so he’s got us—and that’s about it.

He continues. “I’ll be doing a conference call with all three promoters in the morning to confirm you will be on your best behavior and perform the encore, and no more shit-shows. Capiche?”

“Oh, I love when you speak my language,” quips Enzo, stuffing the crust of a sandwich into his cheek like a squirrel. “So sexy. So demure.”

Ash ignores this. “We got it,” I say, ducking my head. “And we appreciate it. And I apologize. To all of you.” I look into each pair of eyes, and I feel like I could float away right now, were I not anchored by the guilt and concern congesting my heart about Briella.

“Now we move on to Briella.”

I swallow tightly and sit up. “I need to call her. Tonight.”

Ash looks at me, chin lowered, eyes intent. “You can certainly try. But you guys are missing a big piece of what happened tonight. She’s here.”

A chorus of, “The fuck?” goes up all around. Ash tells us what occurred while we were storming off stage and dealing with Willow in the green room.

Briella and Cami. Here. Tonight. In the third row. Ash visited them, spoke to them. Allowed her to come here so she could ”get over us.” Get over me.

“I thought it best,” Ash says, shrugging self-consciously. “Now it’s my turn to ask for your forgiveness. I know as band manager I have the right and responsibility to do what’s best for this band, physically, financially, and psychologically. I believed Willow joining you and Briella being out of the picture was for the best, but also that she was out of the picture for her own best interest. That if she was happily moving on, you guys would be happy, too, and not concerned for her. Now, I don’t know how she feels about you, but there’s more.”

He tells us she flashed an old VIP pass, climbed the stage, and addressed the camera bitch slur. And used it to her advantage. And then, even got the crowd applauding again.

“I can tell you this—that girl has fucking courage, and she’s resourceful enough to make this her moment. To use how low you guys brought her to her own advantage.”

He doesn’t have to say it. We all exchange looks, and suddenly I feel a heat rising from my chest.

This is the Omega you want.

I knew she was from the moment I saw her in that lecture hall at the Guild. She’s sweet, kind, funny, self-aware. She’s not a diva. She’s not a groupie. She’s not self-seeking.

But she will stand up for herself. And in a pack, that’s needed. Every member needs to speak their needs, their wishes, their desires. And I think Briella has the power to keep us in line.

But she has to want to let us.

“That is one business-savvy lady,” remarks Enzo. “Pretty hot.” But I know he’s not kidding this time.

Even Ronan nods. I rub a hand down my face. We could all vie for the job of being the one to go after her. But I know it’s mine.

Before bed I’ve watched at least twenty social media videos of the crowd, after we left, of Briella climbing on stage and delivering a shaky but determined self-promotion, and the crowd eating it up.

She’s so beautiful when she faces her fears. She’s so passionate despite her uncertainties. I can imagine her scent through the videos, and my head is full of her ocean waves and salt air.

I message her.

Can we talk? Tomorrow? Ash might’ve told you. We leave at 9. I could meet you at a coffee place around the block from our hotel. A little bakery on Rue de France, Les Petit Pains. Ten minutes of your time. Please. I could be there at 7.

My heart’s thumping as I hit send, and that’s when I get a knock on my door. It’s too polite a knock to be any of the guys. My heart beats in double-time now. Is she thinking of us too, in this very moment? She must’ve got my room number from Ash.

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