Page 1 of Room Ten: Put on a Show

Chapter One

Kenna

The applause was deafening and the stage lights were blinding as I blew kisses to the crowd. Hot adrenaline pumped fast through my veins. Two hours of singing my lungs out to a packed amphitheater should have left me exhausted but I was enjoying myself too much for that right now.

Movement to my left drew my attention.

In the shadows just off stage stood one of my bodyguards, Merrick Escott. During the three years he’d been working for me, I’d never seen him smile. Not once. With his mouth set in a firm line, dark eyes, and broad shoulders as straight as a ruler, Merrick wasn’t the type to fool around and have fun. His job protecting me was his top priority, every minute of the day, and he took that as seriously as the grave.

With a stoic expression, he caught my gaze and touched the comm in his ear. Then he gestured to the opposite side of the stage.

Turning my head, I spotted my other bodyguard, Baron Lancaster, beckoning to me with one finger.

Time to go.

He was older than Merrick, with more years of experience under his belt. The way he carried himself suggested a man who was accustomed to giving orders and being obeyed without question. I loved to act up around him, just to watch that muscle twitch in Baron’s jaw and his piercing gray eyes darken like a thundercloud.

No matter how many times I batted my lashes, I couldn’t pry Baron’s age out of him though. He was a lot like Merrick that way, tight-lipped and unyielding. That’s what I hired them for, I guess.

All it took was a quick peek into his employment file at Titan Defense—the security agency where I’d hired him—to get what I wanted. When I found out Baron was twice my age at forty-seven, it made me crave his unwavering attention even more.

I lingered on the stage, knowing Merrick and Baron couldn’t force me to leave yet unless they made a scene. Which they wouldn’t do unless there was a legitimate threat. They weren’t in the habit of abusing their power. They might order me around to keep me safe, but I was the one calling the shots here, and sometimes, they needed a little reminder who was in charge.

“How about it, New Orleans?” I called into the microphone. “What would you say to one more song?”

The audience screamed louder, if that was even possible. A few people in the mosh pit waved pink and purple glittery signs that read,we love you, Kenna Newhouse!

A thrill zipped up my spine. This was my favorite part—the infectious energy of my fans, thousands of voices singing my songs with me until the air vibrated with electricity.

I glanced back at Baron. He’d lowered his hand to his side, his head cocked half an inch to the right, as if to say,you know better than this, Kenna.

I flashed him my most charming smile, lifted the microphone, and began to sing.

***

After the concert was over, I finally dragged myself off the stage. Baron waited in stark silence, but his hand slid to the curve of my lower back anyway. Using his body to forge a path through the milling people backstage, he directed me toward my dressing room.

The shift of a shadow behind me signaled that Merrick was bringing up the rear, glaring at anyone who got too close until they scuttled out of the way.

“You’re not very happy with me, are you, Baron?” I asked brightly.

He gave a hum in response but kept his gaze straight ahead, navigating the corridors and analyzing for potential threats.

I cast a sideways glance in his direction, studying his profile. How many times had I fantasized about sucking a bruise into the skin of his neck, just above the collar of his suit? How many times had I daydreamed about stripping him down and getting my hands on all that muscle underneath?

When we reached my dressing room, Merrick slipped past me and opened the door. My manager, CeCe Brinkley, was already there, iPad in hand, Bluetooth seemingly glued into her ear. She waved us into the room without a break in her conversation. Born and raised in New Orleans, her Southern accent was thick as syrup and she had a sassy streak a mile wide to match.

Merrick scoured the room while Baron and I stood to one side. Baron’s hand still rested on my lower back. I was so close to him that my shoulder pressed into the firmness of his chest. If Baron noticed I was leaning into him, he didn’t give anything away. Not for the first time, I wondered what it would take to finally crack his steel wall of composure.

Ever since hiring Baron and Merrick, I flirted with them shamelessly. There was a special little thrill that came with knowing they were significantly older than me. And the fact they were always around, looking so hot, muscular, and protective, only ramped up my already-raging sex drive.

They didn’t cave though, no matter what I did. And I’d tried damn near every trick in the book.

“All clear,” Merrick declared.

Baron ushered me into the dressing room. Merrick stood by the door, waiting for the inevitable discussion aboutfollowing ordersthat I’d heard a thousand times.

CeCe seemed oblivious to the tension in the room. She tapped her Bluetooth with a flourish of her lemon-yellow acrylic nails to end her call and sighed.

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