Page 84 of Cherry Beats

I glanced around, not even aware that we’d stopped.

“Shit, did I miss you guys screwing?”

Presley fell back against the seat, releasing me, and I hated it instantly.

“Fuck off, Rhett,” Presley grumbled.

Rhett’s eyes were locked on mine, the seductive smile he’d clearly rehearsed breaking free. “He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, hasn’t he, sweetheart?”

“This one?” I asked, intentionally holding up my middle finger to him.

Rhett laughed and smacked Presley on the shoulder. “Pass her to me when you’ve finished with her.”

The door was slammed shut before either one of us could react.

Presley turned to me, his unspoken apology hidden in the slight crease of his eyes and narrowing of his mouth.

“It’s fine,” I assured him, shaking my head.

“It’s anything but fine. I’m gonna fucking kill Rhett.”

Just like that, I’d lost the moment with him to the chaos, and the door was flung open again where two men with clipboards in their hands and lanyards around their necks started ushering Presley out of the car, pointing him in the direction of a fire exit that was being used as an entrance. He glanced over his shoulder to find me, but there were suddenly too many people in our way. When I stepped out of the car, I thought about staying where I was as I watched him drift farther and farther away. Presley’s eyes found mine, and I could see him mouthing something to the man who had his hand pressed into his back. The man kept pushing him along, and suddenly Presley couldn’t catch a breath before he was surrounded by four other people who were each talking to him at once.

I smiled a sad smile, raised my hand in the air and wiggled my fingers to wave him off. Presley ducked under someone’s arm, spun around on his feet and began to push back against the small crowd around him. They parted and gave way instantly, each one taken aback by his determination and the angry words he was throwing around without a care in the world.

He was marching back to the car, his jacket flapping behind him as he strode angrily towards it and pushed his hair away from his face. When he looked up and saw me, he reached out for my hand.

I took it, unable to stop the exhilarated smile that took over as I looked up at him.

“Did you know Bryan Adams was a good friend of Amy Winehouse, helping her detox when she hit an all-time low in 2007?” he asked me through panting breaths.

My brows rose in surprise. I stared at him, speechless.

“Be my Bryan,” he whispered. “Come and save me from this mess.”

I blinked and nodded slowly. Presley turned to lead me through the madness, and I didn’t miss the way the sea of people around me were wide-eyed and open-mouthed, staring right at me.

Or the way a camera flashed in my face before it was too late for me to hide.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Julia was trying to organise the guys into a room for the press interviews. Banners of their new album lined the walls, with five stools to one side and a chair for each interchanging interviewer opposite them.

“I want her in the room,” Presley demanded, but the answer was no.

Presley argued with Julia about it, his voice becoming progressively louder until I intervened, stepping between them both, more to save Julia than my feisty drummer boy.

Pressing my hands on his chest, I waited until he looked down into my eyes and took a breath.

“Listen to you, little diva,” I chastised softly. “Fame has made you bossy.”

Julia blew out an exasperated breath behind me, but Presley’s scowl only grew deeper.

“You don’t have to panic,” I assured him. “I’m not leaving today, I promise. This has been a huge whirlwind of a day, and I could use an hour to myself to collect my thoughts, anyway. I need to call Bourbon and explain why I won’t be in work tonight after already letting him down so many times this week. I need to make sure Elle can cover some shifts, as well as check in with Molly and apologise for running out on her last night. I could also do with calling my parents.”

“Your parents?” He wrinkled his nose, and it only made him look more adorable.

I visibly cringed at the thought of having to call my mum and dad, but I also knew how the press worked. If it had only taken a matter of hours for Presley’s face to appear on every news channel and blog page after he hit that guy, I could only imagine how quickly my face was going to be splashed across the Internet. I tried really hard to suppress the rising panic inside of me.

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