Page 39 of Fame and Obsession
After almost retching in the sink, I plaster myself against the wall and pray my legs hold me up.
This is ridiculous.
He can’t just pause a concert. It’s been minutes… By now, I assume the video interlude is over, and everything’s gone back to normal.
However, those who assume are not only unsafe in the ladies’ room, they’re in for a shock.
“Well, aren’t we just the Pied Piper of Pussy?”
My knuckles curl against the wall, and I fight the urge to dig my nails into the drywall. The last thing I need is swoopy bangs and devil eyes in my face.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demand. The shell shock of finding out my stalker is a rock star fades as a wave of irritation takes over.
The blonde who ridiculed me at Club Vanquish props herself against the hand dryer and smirks through heavily lined eyes. “You may have spread your legs for him once but don’t expect it to last. Julian picks up random trash to get my attention, but he always comes back to me. You’re nothing to him.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” I ask, pushing off the wall. Forget a stunner. I want to take this bitch out downhome style—by ripping her hair out.
She steps forward until we stand nose to nose. “It’s a promise.”
I cock my chin, a slow smile spreading across my face. “How sad for you.”
She doesn’t expect that.
“Sad?”
“Yes, sad. I haven’t even touched your man. If your pussy is that good, why did he just stage dive to run after mine?”
Damn that felt good. I pull myself together enough to walk out when I hear angry pounding on the door and a familiar growl outside of it.
“Okay, I’m a guy, and if anyone has something unzipped, now’s the time to fix it. You’ve got until the count of three to come out, Phoebe Ryan. After that, I’m coming in whether you like it or not. So, whatever...your call.”
My confidence crumbles. No way would he walk into a women’s bathroom.
“One.”
Would he?
The other girls inside the bathroom exchange bewildered glances. Eventually, all eyes settle on me, then narrow.
“Two.”
I smirk at my blonde adversary and then offer the rest of them a feeble smile. “Don’t worry, he won’t really do it.”
“Three.”
The door flies open to audible gasps. Julian stands in the archway, eyes wild and hair disheveled—as if hundreds of fingers have manhandled it. In two steps, he’s in front of me, his tattooed arm grasping my elbow and maneuvering me toward the door.
He narrows his eyes at blondie. “I’ll deal with you later, Viv. Sorry for the inconvenience, ladies. Enjoy the show.” He shakes his head at me as we exit. “What is it with you and bathrooms?”
I can’t speak, much less protest, as he leads me through the throngs of people filling the venue. My muteness doesn’t deter him. Julian has nothing to say to me. He keeps his eyes averted and lips pressed in a hard line.
Making an abrupt right, he guides me into a dimly lit alcove at the end of a hallway. We’ve barely stopped when he spins me around and presses my back against a concrete wall.
Startled, I look up to find his hooded gaze on me.
He doesn’t say a word. His groan says it all as he backs me against the wall, pinning me agains his chest. I don’t know what to say. I sure as hell don’t know what to do, so I’m not prepared when his hands cup my face, and his mouth descends on mine.
No, this is wrong…
