Page 24 of Crimson Desires

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll arrange for everyone to get breakfast. On me,” Jack said.

I frowned. “I’m not trying to make you pay for anyone.”

“I know you’re not. I want to pay.”

My dubious expression didn’t waver.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Aster, I’m a multi-millionaire. Paying for a few meals won’t break the bank. Okay? Watch.” Jack pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text. Then, he pocketed it. He rubbed his palms together, turning his attention back to the food. “Now, if it’s all the same to you, I’m fucking starving.”

Jack opened the box and began setting the food out on the bed. He’d ordered pancakes, eggs, toast, fresh strawberries, yogurt, and bacon. Plus, two coffees to wash everything down with.

I pulled the duvet cover off myself, inching toward the massive spread.

“Okay, I’ve got a question. How the fuck do you eat all of this and maintain that?” I pointed to Jack’s well-toned abdomen.

Jack laughed. “Some of it is genetics. The rest is working out. I was up at five this morning hitting the hotel gym.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I know there’s this stereotype about dirtbag rock stars, but I’m a chronic early riser. Always have been, and always will be.” He popped open one of the containers of strawberries and dug in. I watched as he took a fat strawberry between his fingers and bit into it, his mouth sucking at the fruit. A bit of scarlet juice dribbled down his chin. Jack noticed my leering and cracked a smile. “Like what you see?”

I blushed redder than the goddamn strawberry. “Shut up.”

Jack winked. Then, the jackass made a show of literally tonguing the strawberry. He licked the fruit, tongue teasing the tender flesh. I squeezed my thighs together.

“Knock it off. Seriously.”

“Fine, fine,” Jack said. “Anyways, what about you? You a morning person or a night owl?”

“Night owl, definitely.” I crinkled my nose. “But my sister’s a morning person. We used to share a room. It was Hell.”

“You’ve got a sister? What’s she like?” Jack asked.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled. Why had I mentioned my sister? See, this was why getting close to Jack was dangerous. Because as much as I knew better, there was a part of me that desperately wanted to trust him.

“Come on, Aster. Don’t clam up on me now,” Jack said.

I sipped my coffee like chain smokers take drags of their cigarettes—for a moment of respite and a dash of confidence.

“Her name is Violet. She’s my older sister.”

“Is someone in your family a gardener?” Jack asked.

“My mom,” I said. Quick to direct the subject back to Violet, I said, “Anyways, Violet’s about as type-A as a person can get. After graduating high school, she went to a private university in Charleston. She still lives there now, as far as I know.”

“We’re playing a venue in Charleston. Maybe you can see her when we’re in town?”

My chest squeezed. “Yeah. Maybe.”

I hadn’t seen Violet since I was a teenager. What I neglected to tell Jack was that Violet was seven years older than me. When she left for college, I was only eleven. And after she left, she never came back. Not for Christmas. Not for summer break. Not for my birthday.

Not even for Mom and Dad’s divorce.

It wasn’t right to say that I had a bad relationship with Violet. More like, I didn’t have a relationship with her at all.

Ever since I’d learned that Charleston was one of Wicked Crimson’s tour stops, I’d been anxious about it. Violet was a huge Jack Maverick fan, and I knew that there was a good chance she’d purchase a ticket to the Wicked Crimson show.

And since I worked the merch table, that meant that there was a good chance I’d see her there.

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