Page 52 of Faithful

Room 3212. The arrow points to the left, so I head that way.

The hall itself is clean and empty and fairly quiet with the exception of rock music pouring from behind door number 3210 and an older dude in a dark blue jersey walking in my direction.

I’m not sure what exactly I expected, but Kai’s latest Instagram reel revealed (well, Finn’s did actually) that the label booked the whole floor for the band and their crew. And in my mind the scene that would play out upon my arrival to the hotel has strippers, rivers of booze and mountains of blow, and hundreds of people partying their life away.

My imagination has taken it too far obviously, but I lower my head anyway. Just enough for my features to be hidden from the man’s view.

He’s most likely part of the crew and the chances he knows who I am are fifty-fifty. After all, he’s working for the man who’s half of the most popular meme of last year. In any case, one can never be too careful, especially if that “one” is here to meet Iodine’s front man in secret.

Kai’s room is at the very end of the corridor. I stop in front of the door and knock gently, my heart continuing its crazy dance in my chest.

There’s some stomping of feet, then a gruff voice asking, “Who is it?”

Okay, he doesn’t sound too happy. “Take a wild guess?” I say, tightening my grasp on the suitcase handle.

Tick… tick… tick… tick…

Finally, the door flies open, and I come face-to-face with Kai.

He looks deliciously sexy in his simple short-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, and unlaced boots. Like he’s a present someone’s started unwrapping. The scars, so blatantly on display, startle me.

Luggage in tow, I push inside the room and pull him into a kiss, our mouths meeting sloppily in a rush of stubble and hot breath.

The hood of my sweatshirt along with the cap’s visor are in the way and I yank them off my head.

Kai doesn’t resist. His arms come around my waist and I feel a shiver run through my body.

Somehow, he manages to kick the door closed, and we’re now alone in his hotel room in Vegas thirty-two floors above the ground, and I’m dizzy from the storm of emotions and sudden lust and the need to talk.

Kai pulls back first and stares at me through the flutter of his lashes, his hands still on me. His gaze is dark and filled with too many things at once–indignation, anger, desire.

And I don’t know how to decipher any of that, how to read him at this very moment.

“Took you long enough, asshole,” he says, cupping my chin. His thumb presses into my skin with force, indenting my lower lip.

And for some reason, I like it.

“You were the one who picked the flight.”

Kai doesn’t reply. He continues to eye-fuck me and I’m guessing he’s in one of his moods.

Musicians. Go figure.

Our reunion is interrupted by a knock.

“Shit.” I glance back at the door, feeling like a thief caught by the police red-handed.

Eyes wide, Kai presses his index finger to his lips, requesting that I remain silent, then yells out, “Yeah?”

“Dude! Band meeting in five! Finn’s room.”

It’s Danny.

I recognize his voice right away, soft and pleasant and not leader material. That’s why he hardly does any press on his own. But he’s an excellent addition during interviews since he’s always been a sweet talker. Fans love him too. He’s one of thoselikable no matter what the band doestypes. I almost feel bad for him for everything happening because of Divine Dave. Dude probably had no idea what he was signing up for when he was recruiting Post Collateral’s singer all those years ago.

“I’ll be there,” Kai replies curtly and waits a few seconds until the noise disappears behind the slam of another door down the corridor.

My heart is going full throttle. “Are we safe?” I ask him quietly, crossing the massive suite and studying the view of the city spread out below on the other side of the glass wall. It’s impressive and could definitely give Nashville a run for its money. And I wonder if my time here will be just as spectacular as the place itself.

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