Over Exposed (19 page)

There. She'd said it out loud, exactly what she'd been thinking. Sure, she could dream, but when she examined all the pieces rationally, she knew they'd never fit together into a whole.

Annabelle shook her head. “Sabrina, you're way too jaded for your age.”

“You're just way too jaded, period.” Kate huffed. “Is that seriously what you want? For this affair to fade into the woodwork like it never happened?”

No. Absolutely not.

She looked at Kate and watched the other woman start to smile.

“You're damn right you don't.” Kate knocked on the table with her fist to punctuate her words, making the already wobbly table tremble in fear. “Now what the hell are you going to do about it?”

Sabrina had the childish impulse to stick her tongue out at Kate. So she did, which just made Kate laugh.

“Honestly, I don't know what the hell I can do about it.”

Kate stopped laughing and her expression got serious as she leaned across the table. “Alright, listen up. I'm going to tell you a secret Tyler told me about Greg when we first met. Show him genuine affection. He doesn't expect it from anyone. Give him a little piece of yourself and he'll be your slave.”

If only it were that easy. “What if I give him everything and he makes me
hi
s slave and then he leaves?”

Kate's gaze narrowed. “Then you've got to make him see that his life is better with you in it.”

“And again I say, my life is here. My family. I don't want to give up everything and move across the country.”

“A relationship should be fifty-fifty.” Annabelle glanced at Kate before giving Sabrina a little smile. “Who says he won't do some of the bending?”

“Because he's Greg freaking Hicks. He doesn't have to bend. And why should he? It's not like the guy has declared his everlasting love. Hell, I'm not even sure I could live with him. He's bossy and demanding and . . .”

“Sexy?” Annabelle grinned.

“Freaking hot?” Kate added.

Sabrina threw up her hands. “Yes, yes. He's all that and great in bed. Okay, happy? I admit it. The man is a sex god.”

“And he's yours,” Annabelle said.

For now, at least. Sabrina didn't say that out loud, however, because she knew Annabelle and Kate wouldn't let it go. And she really didn't want to talk about it anymore. So she smiled. “Yeah. So Annabelle, pink for your dress? That could be really pretty.”

Eight

“Hey, Sabrina, right? Can you point me in the direction of the music room? Golden said I could use it while I'm here.”

Sabrina had filled in Laney and was about to make her escape to her room when George Duggan, aka Sebastian Valenti, caught her before she left the desk Saturday night.

Since Laney had just picked up the phone, Sabrina smiled and nodded. “Of course. Let me get a key.”

Sebastian flipped his hand up with a keycard clutched in his fingers. “That I've got. I just forgot how to get there.”

“Not a problem.” She started toward the atrium. “Follow me.”

“That will
not
be a problem.”

Though he'd said the words under his breath, Sabrina heard them clearly.

Was Sebastian checking out her ass?

Glancing over her shoulder, she caught the guy grinning at her. And wow. When he smiled, she understood exactly why women threw their panties at him during concerts.

She'd had time tonight during her shift, so she'd looked him up. Beneath the long-sleeved T-shirt he wore, he had a full sleeve of tattoos on his left arm, an intricate design she could just see peeking out from beneath the wristband of his shirt. On his right arm, he had a beautifully detailed Celtic cross. Across his back, he had the word “Surrender” in gothic script. And on his chest and torso, he had several other artistic designs.

If she hadn't searched him on Google, she never would've guessed the tattoos. Sure, his hair was a little long but he looked . . . normal. Like the boy next door. Especially compared to his bandmates.

One had a blue Mohawk. Another's head was shaved completely and, combined with his bulging muscles and piercings, made him look like someone she'd cross the street to avoid on a dark night. The other had straight black hair that reached his shoulders and several facial piercings that made her wince just to think about.

Not sure whether she should be offended or pleased by his attention, she raised one eyebrow at him to let him know she'd caught his remark.

And heard him laugh as he fell into step beside her.

“Wow, you've got that look down solid. And if you're wondering, yeah, I like the view. But don't worry, if I make a move, you'll see me coming.”

Nonplussed, she slid him another look. “Are you always this straightforward, Mr. Valenti?”

He winced. “Hey, please. Call me Sebastian. Or Baz. Mr. Valenti is my dad. And trust me, I'm nothing like my dad.”

Pushing through the doors into the shadow-shrouded atrium, Sabrina felt the humidity brush against her skin as she waved Sebastian through.

“The music room is straight through here.”

She started to walk then paused when she realized Sebastian wasn't behind her. He'd stopped just inside the door and she saw his head turning to look around.

“Holy shit, this is pretty cool.”

She smiled at the complete surprise in his voice. Obviously, Sebastian hadn't been in here yet. As a matter of fact, she couldn't remember seeing him around the hotel at all the past few days. Then again, she'd only been interested in seeing one man. And she hadn't had much success there.

“It is, isn't it? They'll be installing the Christmas decorations overnight tomorrow. I can't wait to see that.”

“So you haven't been working here that long?”

Hands in his pockets, Sebastian continued toward her but at a snail's pace, his interest seemingly consumed with the atrium.

“Only since the summer.”

“Good gig?”

“I enjoy it, yes.”

“Good. Work sucks when you hate it.”

The bitter note in his voice made her take a closer look at him. “And do you hate your work?”

He sighed then continued walking, his expression closing. “No. I don't. So . . . the music room?”

She blinked at his sudden mood change then plastered on her most pleasant smile. “Of course. Right this way.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, Sebastian keeping his distance. When they reached the practically hidden door on the other side of the large space, she stepped aside and pointed to the slot for the keycard.

“Just let Laney at the desk know if you need anything. I'm sure—”

“So, yeah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I could use a fresh pair of ears on this piece I'm working on. I know it's late and you're probably tired but . . . do you have a few minutes?”

Did she?

Sebastian stared at her, almost as if daring her to stay with him. But beneath that, he looked . . . lonely.

She didn't know this man at all. But what was she going to do? Go back to her room and wait for Greg to text? What if he didn't?

She wasn't at all tired. She didn't want to be alone and Sebastian looked like he could use the company, too.

“Sure. I have some time.”

*  *

“I'm so sorry, Greg. I know this could totally fuck up your filming schedule but I didn't know what else to do and I was afraid . . .”

Greg wrapped an arm around Daisy's shoulders and pulled her against him. “Not a problem. I'm glad you called. We'll figure something out.”

That's what he did, wasn't it? He figured things out.

When Daisy had called three hours ago, he'd almost let it go to voicemail. He'd been in the middle of a meeting with the crew but Trudeau had warned him that, even though Neal and Daisy had appeared to make up, there was still trouble in paradise.

Since Neal had arrived, Greg had spent as much time as he could with the couple. What he'd seen had made his jaw tense until he wasn't sure it would unlock.

Neither one of them was admitting to a problem. And that in itself was a problem because when those two didn't talk, whatever was happening was beyond bad.

Daisy's call had confirmed that.

Neal had finally cracked.

In fucking public. At a fucking popular restaurant. On one of the busiest fucking days of the year.

Of fucking course.

With the help of Michael, Neal's assistant-nurse-bodyguard-fixer, Daisy had been able to get Neal out of the restaurant and into the limo before the other restaurant patrons had figured out what was going on and who was involved. However, she was pretty sure the few paparazzi hanging around outside the restaurant had gotten some pictures.

Daisy had called Greg in tears from the limo. He'd been able to hear Neal in the background alternately crying and raging as Daisy had the limo driver bring them back to the hotel.

With Tyler's help, Greg had gotten them into the service elevator and back to their apartment without anyone seeing them.

Neal had been almost incoherent by the time Greg and Michael had dumped him in a bed in the second bedroom.

Michael had stayed with Neal while he sat Daisy in a chair in the living area and started the hard part. “Do you know what he took?”

She shook her head, tears still dripping down her face. “Nothing that I know of. Honestly. We had a few drinks with dinner. He just seemed so depressed. He was talking about his mom and dad and then he started to talk about how he's not good enough for me and . . .”

Greg listened with a sinking feeling in his gut as Daisy told him everything else Neal had said. It sounded like the guy was dealing with severe depression, and the alcohol really hadn't helped.

And if he'd taken anything besides alcohol, he'd have to go back into rehab.

Fucking hell.

“Greg, I'm so sorry.”

Daisy had stopped talking and he hadn't noticed, he'd been so damn stuck in his own head. Now he took a closer look at his ex and saw a woman who'd reached the end of her rope.

“How long has it been this bad?”

She didn't answer right away, and he knew she was trying to rein in her crying jag. “About three months. But I noticed the changes starting six months ago.”

Right after they'd agreed to do the film. Fuck. Just . . . fuck.

Had he pushed Neal too hard too fast? Maybe—

“Greg, stop it.” Daisy reached for him, cupping her hand around his jaw. “I know what you're thinking. I can't even read your expression but I know. This isn't your fault. It's Neal's. And mine. I should have told you . . .”

“What?” He forced a smile. “What should you have told me? That he was acting erratic? That's just Neal. We've seen him do this before. Hell, we've seen him pull himself out of worse spirals. Let's just wait 'til he sleeps it off then we'll see what's up.”

Daisy continued to stare at him, her eyes going a liquid blue. He knew that look. Knew how it used to make him feel.

She used to look at him like that and he'd throw her on the nearest flat surface and fuck her brains out.

Right now, all it made him feel was how much he missed Sabrina. He couldn't comfort Daisy, not like that. Because the only woman he wanted right now was the one who was probably cursing his name because he'd broken their plans for tonight.

Goddamn, his gut burned.

With a wry twist of his lips, he removed Daisy's hand from his cheek, pressed a kiss to the back, then stood. “Try to get some sleep, babe. Call me when you get up in the morning or before, if there's anything Michael can't handle on his own.”

Daisy actually managed a weak laugh as she looked up at him. “Always the gentleman. You get some sleep, too. You don't look like you've been getting enough.”

“I'll sleep when I'm done filming.”

“No, you won't. They'll be another project after this film. There always is. Just don't burn yourself out, Greg. Are you at least getting laid?”

He grinned at her bald question, secretly relieved she still had somewhat of a sense of humor. He'd been worried that Neal's darkness would dim her normally vibrant personality.

“None of your damn business.”

“I'll take that as a no. Greg—”

“Actually, you'd be wrong.”

Her eyebrows lifted in unfeigned surprise. “Wow, you've been able to keep that under the radar.”

“And I plan to continue, so you're not getting any more out of me.”

“Obviously she's not in the business.”

He rose, knowing if he didn't leave now, she'd have the entire story out of him. And that wouldn't be fair to Sabrina. “I'm going back to my room. Call me if you need anything.”

He left before she could say anything else.

In the hall, he gave himself ten seconds to lean against the wall and take a few deep breaths to stave off the sensation of falling.

He'd bang his head against the wall as well, but he knew from experience it wouldn't help.

He also knew he could get through this. He just needed a decent night's sleep. Tomorrow morning, he'd have a plan.

Too bad what he really wanted to do involved a bed but not much sleep.

In the elevator, Greg swiped his card and sighed as the doors closed.

He had every intention of heading back to his suite, taking a shower, and getting some sleep. Only one problem. He wasn't tired. Okay, two problems. He wanted Sabrina so badly, his entire body ached with need.

What he should do is go back to his room, take a hot shower, get some food, have a drink, and go the fuck to bed. It'd been a long day and he needed to sleep.

But Sabrina had texted him earlier today that she'd be working until eleven and would he like to get together. That had been three hours ago. He hadn't been able to text her back since he'd been dealing with Neal and Daisy.

He wanted to text her now but he didn't want to wake her if she was already asleep.

Shit.

With a deep sigh, he caught a glimpse of himself in the elevator doors. They reflected back the image of a man who looked like he didn't belong here. The worn jeans, chamois shirt, and too-long hair clashed with the refined elegance of Tyler's hotel.

He needed a shave, which he'd do tomorrow morning. He also needed a haircut, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Besides, he liked having Sabrina's fingers in it and she seemed to like it just the way it was.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he checked the time. Nearly one a.m. Her shift had ended two hours ago.

Just text her. If she answers, great. If she doesn't, she's asleep and she'll get the text in the morning and know I'm thinking about her.

He hesitated so long the elevator opened on the fourth floor before he'd typed anything.

Shit.

With the door standing open, he typed in three words.

Hey, you up?

Then he punched the button for the lobby. If he didn't hear from her, he'd have some food and a drink at the bar. He needed time to unwind. Then he'd hit the sack. He could function perfectly well on four hours of sleep. He just hoped Sunday lived up to its reputation as a day of rest.

Yeah, right. He needed to have another sit down with Neal. Just the two of them, without Daisy to fuck up their focus. He needed to know if Neal was in any shape to film or if he had to rearrange the shooting schedule.