Page 55 of Wicked Rockstar

How was I supposed to get in the flirty touches and looks?

As we settled into our seats, I couldn’t help but notice how Peter’s eyes kept darting to Wendy. She was beautiful—sleek and confident. But this time at least, I felt like I could hold my own around her.

The more I studied her, the more it became apparent there was some kind of attraction on her end, too. Not just Peter’s. She shifted when he spoke, and a slight flush to her cheeks betrayed her. She wasn’t as immune to his charms as she pretended she was.

“So, I wanted to meet with you both?—”

I cut Wendy off. “Oh no, there’s something sticky on this chair,” I said, opening my eyes wide. “I just need a second to get a new seat.” I moved around the small table and sat in the chair on the other side of Peter.

He grinned at me and then turned his attention back to Wendy.

Fail.

“So, Peter,” I said, and laid my fingertips on his arm, lightly running them over his exposed skin, and letting go when he quickly turned to me. “How’s the new song coming along?” It wasn’t uncommon for Peter to sing his newest creations to me, but Wendy didn’t need to know that.

Peter blinked, clearly thrown off by my sudden flirtation. “It’s, uh, coming along great.”

My smile grew wider. “When do I get to hear it?” It didn’t matter I’d heard pieces of it already and would be in the studio with the band later in the week when it was recorded. Right now, I was angling for more private time between us.

Peter tapped the tip of my nose and angled his body closer to mine. “Maybe we can grab a drink later, and I can play it for you.”

I preened under these tiny bits of affection, my mind whirling in excitement. It really felt like this was all working and coming together. Maybe today was the day hefinallysaw me. I held in the little squeal of excitement that wanted to burst free, especially when his gaze slid down and I think he might have checked out my cleavage.

I saw Wendy stiffen out of the corner of my eye. A pang of guilt hit me, but I quickly pushed it away.

I deserved Peter.

“I’d love that,” I purred before turning my attention to Wendy. “Now, what were you saying?”

Wendy pressed her lips into a thin line and shuffled the papers in front of her before answering. “We need to discuss Peter’s public image. The partying, the fights, the drinking—it’s a liability for the label.” And she didn’t have to say it, but if Peter couldn’t get his act together I’d be out of a job too.

Peter was now the one stiffening in his seat.

I laid a comforting hand on his arm and loved it when he tossed me a tender smile. Who knew all I had to do was turn on the charm to get Peter to notice me?

“Alright, let’s hear how you want to make me a model citizen,” Peter sat back in his chair, a cocky grin firmly in place.

Wendy ignored him and retrieved her tablet from the bag at her feet. “Let’s start by addressing your drinking, Peter. I’mproposing a partnership with an up-and-coming non-alcoholic beverage company. You’ll be seen sipping their drinks at events and even star in their commercials.”

Peter scoffed, “I’m not pushing mocktails.”

Wendy leveled a severe gaze at Peter. “It’s either that or rehab. And don’t think I only mean you lay off drinking at parties. This needs to be ineveryaspect of your life. But it’s your choice. I don't have to tell you whatnotchoosing to do this will mean for you. And for Trissa here, by association.”

A cloud of fear dusted his expression, but it was gone in an instant. Not one to back down on anything, Peter’s features remained mutinous.

“Next,” Wendy continued, “we must restore your image. I’ve lined up various charity events that you can pick from—reading to kids at a children’s hospital and a benefit concert for music education in schools. We’ll get great photo ops, and hopefully, these efforts will replace the most recent scandalous coverage.”

“What if I don’t like any of these?” Peter crossed his arms over his chest.

I sighed. The old Peter would’ve done both of the charity events she suggested, but this one was going to fight the adjustment of his image every step of the way.

It was like he didn’t care anymore.

“Do you have anything else?” I asked, hoping maybe something might catch Peter’s attention.

“It all sounds boring and not me. I’m fine, just as I am. People expect me to be an off-the-wall rockstar. It’s part of my brand,” Peter growled. He started tapping out an unfamiliar rhythm on the table.

I watched his fingers, recognizing the subtle signs he was about to blow. The tightening of his muscles like a cheetah ready to attack, the clenching of his jaw, and even how he moved his feet beneath the table, like he wanted to run from here.

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