Page 67 of Filthy Rock Stars

“But can we really trust someone from Forbidden Destiny right now?” Star concludes.

My chest tightens. My emotions are threatening to swell up and choke me. Mare is going to say I can’t be with Shadow and stay a member of the band.

“You can’t trust him,” I admit. “There’s no reason you should. Just please, please let me try to find a way to make this right before you ask me to leave the band. I don’t care about the money or the fame or anything. I just want to keep making music with you.”

Mare’s face opens, her smile softening. “Nico, we weren’t going to ask you to leave,” she says.

“Hell, it took us forever to find you,” Star jokes. “We can’t go searching for another uniquely talented and fabulous sweetheart. The hunt will consume the rest of our careers.”

I laugh, relief washing through me. “Oh. Thanks,” I manage.

Mare grins, then shakes her head. “But what you’re telling us, Nico, it’s complicated. Even if you’re right and Shadow has the best intentions, the other members of his band could still exploit your connection.”

“I know,” I agree with a nod. “So where does that leave us?”

“I’m not sure,” Mare answers. “Give the rest of us a couple days to think this over, okay? Do you think you can keep everything quiet and under control with Shadow until then?”

“Sure. No problem.”

She nods at the keytar. “Good. Now let’s get to work. We need to teach you a couple new songs before the climate rally this weekend.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

SHADOW

I’mon the phone with my lawyer, listening to yet another explanation as to why I’m totally fucked by the contract, when a message shows up from my private publicist, Rafael.

“What the fuck now,” I grumble, messing with my phone.

“Excuse me?” my lawyer asks.

I see the message and wince. “Sorry. Gotta go,” I grumble.

New Fling? Forbidden Destiny Guitarist Locked in Hotel with Mysterious Someone

The popular gossip blog features a picture of the hotel alongside an old photo of me, drunk at a bar, my long hair all over the place. A quick scan of the article confirms that no one is on to Nico. The blogger assumes I’m fucking the week away with a woman.

But it’s not good. It wasn’t that long ago that fans online were noticing the way Nico and I stared at each other in the talk show viral video, both on opposite ends of the stage.

Eventually, something has to give. Someone will notice or catch us.

Quickly, I call Nico. He’s back from the climate rally, and we’re planning to meet up later before I have to leave town for the LA show.

“Hotel’s burned,” I tell him.

There’s a pause. “There was a fire?” he finally asks.

I grin. Why is that so fucking cute to me?

“No, but a gossip blog reported that I’m holed up here. I’m going to split.”

“Oh. I suppose there must be plenty of places to hide out in the city, right?”

I walk over to the windows. “My loft is still risky. I guess we could play hotel hopscotch, figure out which of these joints has the best room service.”

“Tempting,” Nico says with a laugh. “I’m lucky. There’s no one around my apartment. They probably assume I moved somewhere fancy. Hell, I probably should. Is it weird for a rock musician to live in a one-bedroom apartment?”

“Rockstar,” I correct him. “You’re a rock star. And you’re sure there’s no paparazzi at your place?”

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