Page 40 of Fame and Obsession
But when he licks insistently at my lips, my body liquifies. Within seconds, I’m kissing him back. Julian Bale kisses like his life depends on it. I come alive under his assault and surrender to him.
He groans in approval as I wrap my arms around his neck. My brain screams at me to stop encouraging him, but I defy it, molding myself against his defined chest while his fingers frantically tug at my hair.
Shit, shit, shit.
Finally wrestling my body into submission, I mourn the loss as soon as I place both hands below his collar bone and shove him away.
Not anticipating my move, Julian stumbles back, his lips swollen.
“Julian picks up random trash to get my attention, but he always comes back to me. You’re nothing to him.”
Remembering the bathroom altercation, I glare at him. “I’m not your piece of trash pussy.”
Confusion sweeps across his face. “What are you talking about? I just want a chance to explain why I—”
“Julian!” a woman’s voice shouts from a distance. The echo of her quickly approaching heels visibly jolts him. “Julian! Where the fuck are you?”
His pupils dilate as the woman’s voice grows louder.
He reaches for me again, and I bat his arm away. “Oh good, a chance for you to explain why the hell you’re creeping all up in my personal business.” I smack the wall in frustration. “You. This whole night, it had to be you.”
He shifts uncomfortably. “You didn’t come here to see me?”
I let out a dry laugh. “Oh, my God, get over yourself! You think I came here for you? That I was home mooning over your jar of shrubbery?”
“I just assumed they told you.” Suspicion darkens his eyes as he braces his arm against the wall and leans into me. “If you’re not here to see me, then who are you here to see?”
Now I want to slap him.
“Told me what? And who’s they?”
A slender woman with shoulder-length auburn hair rounds the corner, her face contorted with bewilderment and anger.
Apparently, I’m not the only one who wants to slap him.
“What’s going on?” She looks him up and down. “Are you okay?” As if suddenly realizing I’m standing beside her, she narrows her eyes at me and frowns.
“Helena, calm down. I have business to handle here for a minute. I’ll be right out.” Turning his back to her, Julian focuses his attention back on me.
“The hell you will!” Grabbing his shoulder, she swings him around to face her. “Your business is out on that stage, right now. You’re in serious breach of contract. If the label finds out about this...” Her voice trails off as she palms her forehead.
Between Julian’s stalker antics, his manager’s rants, and his girlfriend’s threats, I’m teetering on the edge of an emotional breakdown. I need to find somewhere safe to decompress—and fast.
Just as I open my mouth, a second figure rounds the corner, A man stomps his way toward us with an air of authority, papers in his hand.
“Excuse me, can someone explain to me what the hell is going on?” he demands, glaring at each of us.
It doesn’t take much to determine he’s the venue manager. Like most of them, he’s a thirty-something failed musician trying desperately to look the part. Dressed head to toe in black, with a studded chain belt wrapped around his waist, he looks more like a cartoon than a professional.
Helena gives him a pleading look. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. I’m so sorry.”
Julian bristles. “Look, I said I’d be right out. The damn video was playing anyway, so, everyone, relax.” Ignoring them, he turns to me and repeats himself. “Who are you here to see?”
I scowl at him.
The venue manager swears and shakes his fistful of papers at Helena. “Bale is in breach of his contract. He’s to play for two hours straight—no break. Personal affairs wait until after the show. Ms. Gibbons, if you don’t get your artist on that stage right now, I’ll be forced to take legal action against him, you, and your company.”
“I’m sorry. He’s never done this before.” She catches Julian’s arm. “The video has been over.”
