Power Couple: A Marriage of Convenience Romance (The Nashvegas Series Book 1) Read online

  “No, I can’t.” The two of us walk out of the elevator and through the casino of the hotel housing the show. “This is like the culmination of every dream I had as a little girl.”

  When we progress from the casino portion to the entertainment venue, something catches my eye. Tiny little flakes sparkle on the floor as we walk down a pink carpet. It makes me a minute to realize it’s actually glitter. Who else other than Harmony Stewart has a pink carpet made of glitter?

  Maddie grabs my hand, pulling my side flush with hers. The hair at my ear flutters as she whispers. “Oh my God, to your left, isn't that her husband and son?”

  Discreetly, I check out where she's zeroed in on possible Harmony family members, and damn near have a panic attack. I've seen EJ Thompson, who unlike his father, doesn't have a stage name, around at a couple of events. We've played a few festivals together, and attended a few of the same award shows, but I've never gotten the introduction I've wanted. I've had a crush on him since I was seventeen. I was at my first business meeting in New York City when we ran into each other for the first time. We have the same record company, and I tripped exiting the elevator. Something I’d done no less than three times that year. For some reason this particular elevator was my nemesis.

  At the time, I’d grabbed anything that would break my fall. It happened to be EJ’s biceps, and I’d stuttered like the star-struck teenager I was. Being the nice guy he is, he reached over, asking me if I was okay.

  It might be pathetic that I've probably relived that moment a million times since it happened. Each time, it goes a little different, more like how I wanted it to go. Where he gives me a smile and invites me to hang with his band mates.

  Tonight though, I don’t have to imagine how anything would go, because he’s standing not far away from where I am. My eyes roam his body, taking in every inch of flesh, committing it to memory for later - or in case I never have a chance like this again. Back then he didn't have as many tattoos as he has now, or the beard he's sporting, and his muscles have developed, instead of barely being able to see the strength in his forearms, his shirt grips his biceps. More than anything I wonder if he remembers me. Probably not.

  "That's them, for sure," I whisper back to her, trying hard to pretend like we aren’t looking.

  "Bri!" Someone shots from the crowd, and immediately I do as I’m trained, looking to where the sound is coming from. It's not unusual for people to shout my name, and I'm more used to that than the silence now. When I see a man taking a picture, I wave, giving him a grin. The badge he wears around his neck proclaims him to be a member of the media. He’s looking for a shot to sell. "Why don't you take a picture with EJ? It'll be a good photo op."

  "EJ?" I question, giggling slightly, feeling my face burn, knowing I’m going to make a fool of myself. "He may not wanna be seen with someone like me."

  I hear her voice, full of apprehension, but I also sense a degree of wanting, and wait a split second before I turn around to face her. "Nah, sweetheart, probably other way around. You don't wanna be seen with someone like me." He gives me a smile that showcases the dimples in his cheeks, although slightly covered with a beard. Jesus Christ.

  Walking over to him, I tilt my head back, in order to look up at him. He’s a big guy, tall and making an imposing figure standing next to his dad. They are head and shoulders above everyone else around. In heels I come to his collar bone, and I wonder what it would be like to have his arm draped across my neck. "You don't have to," I say, giving him an out.

  He bends down so that his lips rest near my ear. His hot breath fans my skin. “Nah, like I'm a fan. Don't tell anybody though," he jokes as he slips his arm right where I had imagined it to be. We just met, but it feels so right.

  My heart pounds, palms go sweaty, and that feeling of driving over a hill too fast is deep in my stomach. My mouth is almost too dry to be able to smile, and I hope he can’t feel how shaky my hands are.

  I'm literally dying as I look at the cameras pointed at us, trying to relax. "I'm a fan too," I admit. "Where do you want us to look?"

  The group of photographers has grown significantly. Instead of one or two, they are all I see. We turn to the left, then the right, face head on, smiling together as we pose for the pictures. After we've taken a few, EJ gives a wave. "We gotta get in there to see my mom kill it, have a good night!"

  He turns, putting his hand on the small of my back to lead me into the amphitheater. Lord above, this looks like we're on a date to anyone who happens to see us together. We're walking, concentrating on moving with the flow of people when Reaper taps me on the shoulder.

  "You ladies are sitting next to us tonight." He motions to me and Madison. "When your friend called to get tickets, they recognized your name, and they know how much of a fan you are. RJ didn't come with us, and neither did the friend he was bringing. You’re welcome to sit in the family section.”

  "Seriously?" I ask, excitement rolling up in my stomach. "This is the best birthday present ever!"

  "Today's your birthday?" EJ asks as we all follow Reaper into a sectioned-off area.

  While I’ve seen plenty of these areas at my own concerts, I’ve never actually been in one. To say I feel special is an understatement.

  Amazed and blown away are more proper terms. There's a couch and tables, along with what appears to be liquor of our choice, provided by our own waitresses, and we are dead stage center. "Not exactly." Madison and I have a seat, EJ sitting next to me, Reaper on the other side of him. "My birthday was last month, but this is the first weekend I've had free and the first time she and I have been able to go out and celebrate it. This is Madison, my best friend, and manager.” I make the introduction like I’m running the show here. “We’ve been slightly busy, but we’re trying to make time to do fun things together before the touring cycle gets crazy again.”

  "And what's better than getting your best friend tickets to see her childhood idol in Vegas?" Maddie takes a drink of the cocktail one of the waitresses hands her.

  "How old are you?" Reaper asks, leaning forward so he can see past his son.

  Looking at the two of them is like seeing an age progression, and believe me, I do remember how hot Reaper was back in the day. And if anyone can pull off the daddy look, it's him. He's got strokes of gray at his temples, and some sprinkled through the beard he sports, but it takes nothing away from his smile or the body he's obviously kept in shape. EJ though, as he scoots next to me and throwing his arm around my shoulders, is making my heart pound. Guys don't normally affect me this way; I'm trying to keep my cool as I cross my legs and pull down my little black dress as close to my knees as I can.

  I wonder if I should play coy and flirt, or if I should give him a straight answer. After all, I know how old he is. Instead of dragging it out, I decide to be honest. "I just celebrated my twenty-first."

  "Oh shit." EJ waves to the waitress. "Bring this girl a drink, we need to celebrate. You only turn twenty-one once, and to do it in Vegas? You're living right, Bri. I wish I had celebrated my twenty-first in Vegas, but this one over here” - he points to Reaper - “wouldn’t let me. Something about our family goes crazy when we go to Vegas, but Mom’s got her show here, so obviously he’s wrong.”

  My skin warms, heat spreading across my body as his voice washes over me.

  Everyone calls me Bri, but the way he says it, makes my name sound like the hottest thing on the face of this earth. What I wouldn’t give to have him whisper it to me in the middle of the night, or call my phone and ask for me. Simple pleasures I’ve never really gotten the chance to experience because I’ve been working. A normal life has always been outside of what I’m capable of since I turned seventeen, but all of a sudden I’m wishing for it.

  "I try to live right.” I lick my lips, nervousness making me quieter than I normally am.

  As I'm about to think of something witty to say, the house lights go down and Harmony takes the stage. Madison and I have loved her forever, so we scream lou
dly as she welcomes the crowd.

  Beside me, I hear EJ's deep voice again. "Trust me, Bri, you're gonna have a good time tonight."

  Little do I know, that those are famous last words.

  Chapter Two

  EJ

  Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

  God that noise is annoying, like a fuckin’ bee flying around my head.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  What the fuck? I groan loudly as I attempt to pry my eyes open, but they feel heavy. Like there are weights attached to both of them. My head is pounding, and I have cotton-mouth like a bitch. Seriously must have been a wild and crazy night.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  “Oh my God, why won’t they stop beating on the door?” a female voice whines beside me.

  The room tilts as I push myself up on my elbow, gazing down at the curtain of dark hair beside me. She pushes herself up as well, holding the sheet up to her chest, grasping it around the upper swells of her tits. When the hair falls back, I gasp. “Bri?”

  “EJ?” Her voice is laced with just as much shock as I feel.

  Lifting the cover up, I see that I’m naked underneath, and glancing over at her, the way the sheet is wrapped around her body, I can see that she is too.

  “What the fuck happened last night?” My head pounds, causing me to put a hand up to try and ease the ache. My eyes burn with the feel of old contacts and cigarette smoke. Fuck that hurts. There’ve been a few times in my career where I’ve woken up like this, but for some reason, I’m feeling different about it today.

  “The last thing I remember is your dad toasting to my twenty-first birthday during the last song of your mom’s show and telling us we should go out and have a good time,” she groans, curling one arm around her stomach, holding onto the sheet with the other for dear life. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  Me too. The pounding at the door has stopped but the buzzing of both our cell phones most definitely hasn’t. Grabbing my phone from the bedside table, I see I have thirty missed calls and just as many text messages. It’s going on eleven in the morning, which is way too early for how hard we apparently partied last night. A dropping sensation starts in my stomach as I see the amount of notifications that have built up on my phone while I’ve been asleep.

  It takes three tries, but I eventually slide my thumb across the bottom, to access my private info. The news alerts I have set up, start popping off like crazy.

  “Married in Vegas! EJ Thompson & Brianna – All the Details Here!”

  “Just Married – EJ Thompson & Brianna! Exclusive!”

  “Eloped! Hear all about the secret romance between Rocker EJ Thompson & Pop Princess Brianna!”

  My head is spinning as all my cylinders are starting to fire again, and I’m coming to terms with what the hell I’m reading. There’s no way any of this can be true, right? They wouldn’t marry us. We were drunk.

  “I don’t feel so great,” she moans, putting her head in the palm of her hand.

  Glancing over, I’m blinded by a fucking diamond on her ring finger, along with what appears to be a platinum band that looks suspiciously like a wedding ring. Bringing my left hand in my line of vision, I see a black band on my ring finger, and I know we’ve done something incredibly stupid. Clearing my throat, I turn to face her, making sure I’m covered.

  Rubbing my eyes, I look down to see that the rings are still there. Then I squint, not sure I can trust my eyesight this early in the morning, but there they are.

  “I hate to break it to you, but I think we got married last night,” I blurt it out, figuring it’s akin to ripping a band-aid off a wound.

  “What!” Her voice is equal parts shocked and equal parts questioning. “There’s no way.”

  I reach over, grabbing her left hand with my left hand. “See this?”

  “Fuck.” The word is little more than a mumble. “My manager is going to kill me.”

  “Your manager? Our record company.”

  I’m sweating, stomach cramping, and saliva is pooling in the back of my throat. I think I’m about to be sick too, and that’s when I hear it. The pounding is back, the voice yelling one I never want to hear yelling at me. “Everett James, I know you’re in there, open this door now!”

  There is nothing quite like the sound of a pissed-off mother. And Lord knows she’s had a lot to be pissed-off at over the years. Somehow though, I’ve always been able to remain in her good graces. This shit though, it’s probably going to change that.

  “Get dressed.” I throw what I think is the dress Bri was wearing last night at her. “I’m gonna let her in.”

  She cries softly, the only thing I can hear are muted sniffles. “I’m going to meet my idol in a walk-of-shame dress with mascara under my eyes, and I don’t even know where my underwear is.”

  “Trust me, she’s a normal mom, her focus will be on me, how I fucked up, and how disappointed she is in what I’ve done.” I’m struggling to put on the jeans I was wearing last night.

  The two of us walk together through the bedroom and into the living area. Her body is warm next to mine, throwing off waves of heat. They might be embarrassment, or some of what we may have shared in the hours leading up to our marriage. “Coming!”

  When I get to the door, I stop with my hand on the knob, before turning around to face the woman who I apparently now call my wife. “Before I open the door…” I let go of the knob, and walk over to her. Cupping her jaw with my hand, I tilt her head so that her eyes are on me. “I want you to know, because I may not have told you this last night, and you look scared to death right now.” I grin down at her. “You really are a beautiful woman.”

  She lifts her hand, wrapping her fingers around my forearm. “Thank you. Might sound stupid, but that does mean a lot. Right now I’ll take what I can get.”

  I wanna say more, but nothing sounds right. Instead, I drop my hand, turn on my heel, and walk back over to the door, preparing for the virtual shit storm about to come in. When I open it, all five-foot-two of Harmony Stewart comes barreling through, Dad not far on her heels.

  “Everett James, what the fuck did you do?”

  “Wow, you kiss Dad with that mouth?”

  Everyone who knows her, either personally or professionally knows that the ‘f’ word hardly ever comes from between her lips. In fact, I can distinctly remember getting in trouble at school for using it, and her telling my teachers to contact my dad because he was the one with the bad influence.

  “Now isn’t the time to try me, EJ.” She stomps her foot, and I do my best not to laugh. “I’m really disappointed in you.”

  There. It. Is.

  The blow that I’ve been waiting on. I’ve worked my whole life to make my parents proud of me, not to take the handouts people have tried to give me. To make a name for myself on my own merit and to be a man they can be proud to call son. Those words? They hurt.

  “I’m sorry.” I sober up, having a seat on the couch next to Brianna, for the first time realizing she’s sat there with her arms crossed, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. “This is a mess,” I rub at my eyes, wishing I’d taken the damn contacts out, not sure how we’re going to cope with this.

  “You’re right about that.” Dad sits on the couch opposite us while Mom has a seat next to him.

  “You’re one to talk.” I shoot him a glare. “You were the one who was all ‘Go out and have a good time, drink to her birthday’ – if anything you’re partially to blame for this.”

  “Garrett, did you really tell him that? You know he’s your carbon copy.”

  “I didn’t expect him to get drunk and get married to someone he’d only met two, maybe three hours tops, earlier.”

  Mom’s eyes move over to the woman sitting next to me. My wife. I try that phrase out in my head. It doesn’t sound awful, but I never thought I’d be uttering it at twenty-six in a Vegas hotel room with a hangover from hell.

  “Are you okay, honey?”

  Brianna nods, using the back of her hand
to wipe the tears off her face. “I’m so sorry that all of this happened. I’m actually a huge fan, and this was my birthday present from my best friend and manager, to see your show.” She hiccups as the tears fall faster.

  I can’t stand seeing her like this, especially when it’s just as much my fault as it is hers. I put my arm around her shoulder, absorbing some of the shaking she’s doing as she cries harder. “I didn’t know she’s also your manager.”

  “We keep it quiet.” She smiles at Mom. “Kinda like Harmony and Shell did. If people don’t know we’re a united front like that, they can’t screw us over.”

  A wave of respect washes over Mom, I can see it in the way she sits up straight and meets Brianna’s gaze head-on with hers. “That’s a smart way to do business.”

  I’m about to say something else, when my manager, Knox, bursts through the door, with Madison hot on his heels.

  “You had a goddamn key?” My dad looks up at him. “We knocked on the door for over an hour. That would have been pertinent fucking information to tell me.”

  “I was giving him time to get his shit together.” Knox runs a hand through his hair. “But we’ve run out of time.”

  “Wait, what do you mean?” I have this vague feeling of foreboding; you know like when your life is about to make a huge change.

  “I guess the two of you haven’t looked at your phones in a while?” Madison crosses her arms over her chest. “Because if you had, you’d see a memo from the record company that was sent to the four of us, saying that under no circumstances are you to dissolve this marriage."

  “What? There shouldn’t be a problem,” I argue. “We got married drunk, they never should have married us, it shouldn’t even be a legal marriage.”

  “Did you fuck?” Knox asks point-blank.

  Brianna gasps and I feel my anger getting the better of me, skin tightening, fists clenching. Regardless of whether she just became mine or not, I take responsibility seriously. “Watch it.” Those words are the only warning he’s going to get. My dad had Reaper mode, but me? I can be just a straight asshole. “Besides you know that doesn’t mean shit.”