Page 45 of Fire

I grin. “Did you just say bloke?”

She shrugs. “You hang around a bunch of English guys long enough…”

“A bunch? I only know of two, Darius and Ridge. And Ridge has been living in the States so long that he barely counts. On an unrelated note, if you really want to piss off Asher, ask him what part of England he’s from?”

She tips her head back, and the laugh that follows makes me feel like I’ve won the damn lottery. After the initial awkwardness, I wasn’t sure I’d hear it again.

We exit the elevator and head toward the lobby, where PR Misty waits to stuff us into sleek black sedans and whisk us away.

Her eyes perk up! “Perfect! I was looking for you two.” She motions for us to follow her, walking at a pace that can only be described as brisk and stepping out into the sweet Tennessee spring air.

We barely cross the threshold before the cameras begin to flash.

Shit, I forgot about the press.

Typically, when we enter and exit hotels, we use a VIP entrance in the back to avoid paparazzi and the Manic Fanatics who camp out, hoping to catch a glimpse of us. However, in this case, the PR team wants us to be seen.

Something about keeping the wolves happy or at bay or whatever.

Knowing this doesn’t stop me from pulling Zara tightly against my side as we walk to the car, allowing me to shield her from the frenzy.

I don’t miss the barrage of questions thrown my way, though.

Hendrix, will you be taking over for Evans permanently?

Is this your girlfriend?

Do you feel you got your spot on this tour because of your family’s connection to the band?

That last one makes my hackles rise, my fist clench, but I do as my PR training instructed and ignore them all, helping Zara into the town car as I quickly follow.

It takes me a moment to adjust and release the breath I’ve been holding. However, as soon as I do, I hear Darius’s posh British accent say, “Hey, Doc! I saved you a seat. You ready to party?”

Just fucking great.

Chapter Fourteen

ZARA

I can’t remember the last time I went to a nightclub. I think it was in college, maybe, when Violet visited and convinced me to go because she wanted to try out her new fake ID.

Regardless of how long it’s been, I know with crystal clarity that I’ve never been to a place like this. Stepping into this club feels like entering an alternate dimension. And that says a lot considering all the bougie shit I’ve encountered this week.

Velvet is nestled in one of Nashville’s trendiest neighborhoods. After we are dropped off in the back alley, we’re escorted through an inconspicuous door manned by a burly-looking bouncer.

Although this club is ultra-exclusive, we are still led upstairs to an even more exclusive private VIP area. It is dripping with opulence and adorned with velvet curtains and plush leather sofas. There is even blackout glass to gaze down at the main floor.

I feel like a voyeur standing here watching everyone below.

“You look lonely over here.” I startle at the sound of Darius walking toward me. He hands me a glass of champagne and joinsme, gazing out over the crowd. The lights glow as the people below move to the beat.

It’s hypnotic.

“Not bored,” I tell him. “Just surprised, I guess.”

“Oh?” He’s a little more relaxed now than he was during all the times I’ve been around him before. It’s like he’s dropped some superfluous wall he keeps up around everyone else. And right now, he’s giving me a glimpse of the real Darius.

I kind of like it.