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Her father hired us after a rather salacious video surfaced involving Naomi and one of her bodyguards. More specifically, the kind of video you’d find on Pornhub with millions of hits. Her father is famous for the empire he built, and his daughter is famous for her wild escapades and now, her sex tape.
I outline several possible angles, and when I reach the final bullet point, I can’t help but smile.
It’s good. Damn good. I know the team will love it, and I can already visualize Valerie rolling her eyes when the partners pat me on the back.
Valerie has made it clear since the first time I spoke up during a meeting that my very presence infuriated her. I knew I was meant to keep quiet and observe, but the words shot out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Unfortunately for Valerie and fortunately for me, the team was thrilled with my ideas. Her, not so much. Either way, I couldn’t let her get me down. I was going to secure a position at Acton Public Relations, and my bitchy supervisor wasn’t going to stand in my way. It’s not my fault that her ideas are stale and the partners want a fresh set of eyes on things.
I click save on the document, pull up the browser, and type Chaotix into the search engine. I want to know what I’m getting myself into tonight.
An array of pictures appear. I enlarge the first one; it’s a group photo of what I assume to be the band. Each man is unnaturally gorgeous, of course. It’s hard to make it in that industry without being easy on the eyes. Talent always seems to play second fiddle. The man who seems to be the leader is oiled up, shirtless, and wearing a pair of tight leather pants that lie low on his hips. His tan skin is tight over the muscles that line his abdomen, and a matte black guitar is strapped to his back. That must be Ryan Knox, the lead singer of Chaotix.
Okay, so he’s hot. Like… really hot.
The drummer is sporting long blonde hair tied back into a messy bun, and the guitarist looks like he should be on the side of a bus modeling Calvin Klein briefs. The bassist has the most typical appearance of the four; even then, he’s still one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen. He has short brown hair and reminds me of one of the jocks from high school that’s now all grown up.
My eyes keep circling back to the front man, though. His emerald green eyes are haunting—like they are full of dark secrets and wicked deeds.
I click on a YouTube link for one of their latest music videos. If I thought the lead singer was haunting before, this was the cherry on top. He sings into the camera like he’s staring into your soul.
“A crowded room full of faces I don’t know,
They scream my name, and my head’s about to blow.
Always there, I sit upon this throne-
Why the hell do I still feel so alone?”
The lyrics are in sharp contrast to the mood of the video. He’s singing about feeling alone, but women that look like supermodels and are dressed in revealing bikinis throw themselves at him. They grind on his hard body and gyrate along with the beat as he belts out the lyrics.
The motive is to project as much sex appeal as possible. He certainly seems to enjoy their attention—confirmed by his hands roaming the body of one of the groupies.
I shake my head; this is so not the approach I would take. But then again, creating a brand for socialites and B-list celebrities slightly differs from creating one for an internationally bestselling and double platinum rock band.
I shut my laptop and head for the bathroom. A shower is exactly what I need.
The moment I step into the spray of hot water, all of the tension leaves my body. I run a razor over my legs. If I had to guess, whatever Alyssa has in store for me will be short, and I doubt stubble would be a good look. I remain under the water for as long as I can stand it before it begins to run cold.
As I wrap the towel around my body, Alyssa calls out to me from the other side of the door. “Jules, hurry up! I need to get in, too!”
I can’t help the sinking feeling brewing in the pit of my stomach. Why do I feel so uneasy about tonight?
It’s just a concert. Everything should be fine… right?
Chapter Two
Juliet
Alyssa spent half an hour curling my long blonde hair into the loose spirals she calls “sex kitten curls.” I wasn’t too sure about that description, but I promised her free reign with no push-back for once. She insisted on dark, smokey eyes and bright-red lips for my makeup. When I asked to see the damage in the mirror, she refused, saying that I couldn’t see until her work was complete.
When she laid out my outfit on the bed, I immediately shook my head.
“Not happening.”
She smiles. “You promised!”
That was another thing about our friendship; there are no broken promises.
