Page 22 of Follow the Rhythm (Fairview City Omegaverse #2)

C harlie was on my shit list, and I had a plan for revenge.

I put on the shirt, tiny shorts, and knee-high boots I’d worn when he nearly bit me in my kitchen to show him exactly what he was missing out on. Maybe that would make him think twice before pissing me off again.

Grace caught me before I left the hotel suite. She choked on the now-cold latte I’d bought her.

“Jesus Christ, Jess. Why do you look so hot?” she asked.

“Is it too much?” I asked.

“If you’re trying to give those Alphas that keep sniffing around a heart attack, I think it’ll do the job.”

I smiled wickedly. “Perfect.”

But now that I was at the venue, I was second-guessing my choices. Backstage was always freezing, no matter where we went. At least the boots kept my shins warm.

I found Charlie in the wings, talking with Stevie. His back was to me, so Stevie saw me first.

“What are you doing here so early?” she asked suspiciously.

“Good morning to you, too. I wanted to see you since you’re such a delight,” I replied with a saccharine smile.

Charlie turned around, and his eyes almost popped out of his head. A thrill of power ran through me at his reaction, along with a flutter of desire.

“I wanted to watch the load-in process,” I said to Stevie.

“Well. As much as it pains me to say this, it’s probably a good thing you’re here. The truck with half the LED screen set up is already at the next venue,” she said, glaring at Charlie.

“What? How?”

“That would be a question for the tour manager here.” She gestured to Charlie.

“It was a miscommunication,” he said, sounding more annoyed than I’d ever heard him. “It’s too far away for the driver to make it back in time. So, we’ll need to get creative.”

Creative. I could do that. “What equipment do we have?”

“Half the LED panels and rigging are here, but fuck if I know what we’re supposed to do with it,” Stevie said irritably.

“Let me get my laptop,” I said, my mind’s gears already whirring.

Four hours later, we somehow had the stage ready for soundcheck.

Instead of the one large screen that the set usually had, I’d worked with the riggers and Josh, the video director, to create clusters of screens across the back of the stage.

Stevie had been extremely unhelpful at first, but as the design came together, she changed her tune.

With Josh’s help, I reworked the video files to create shorter clips that would play intermittently between the smaller screens and rotated with complementary visuals.

We had to accommodate the space where the tree would be, too, without making it look like there was an awkward hole.

There had been a lot of heated arguments.

I was in the booth with Josh and Eddie, wrapped in an oversized cardigan I’d grabbed when I got my laptop from the tour bus, while Stevie directed adjustments from onstage.

“Play it again,” I said to Josh. “And can we bring the lights down slightly, Eddie? Some of the screens are getting washed out.”

Eddie grinned at me. “You got it, boss.”

Josh cued up the last track of the complicated middle section, and I watched, pleased. The effect was actually really cool. We played my illustrations on the larger screen clusters so they were still visible, even from the higher rows. I’d checked it out myself.

There were still a ton of things I wanted to adjust, but I was pretty happy overall. Especially since I had no clue what I was doing beyond directing a bunch of people to match the image in my head.

“Looks great, you guys,” Stevie yelled from the stage. “Can we get soundcheck underway?”

Eddie and Josh looked around, and I realized they were deferring to me. A combination of panic and pride flared inside me.

“Yeah, I think we’re done,” I called back to Stevie.

I went backstage to find some food. I’d been working so hard I’d forgotten to eat, and my stomach felt like it was digesting itself.

Stevie waylaid me, and I braced for her usual unpleasantness.

“Hey. You did a good job today. It looks intentional.”

I looked at her suspiciously. “That’s it? No backhanded remarks? No doubt about my abilities or qualifications?”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” She held out her hand. “Forgive me?”

I shook it, feeling magnanimous. “Fine. Now where’s the food?”

Before I made it to where catering had set up, I found Charlie. He’d been in and out all day, checking on the progress of the stage design.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I replied. He looked a little disheveled and very stressed.

“You did incredible work today. And thank you for making my huge fuck up less of a big deal.” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

Why was I cursed with empathy? I wanted to not care about him or his dumb feelings.

“You’re welcome. I guess this is why Ursula wanted me to come. Even though I had no idea what I was doing.”

“You could have fooled me.” He sighed again and looked down at his phone. “I have some more calls to make.”

“Have you eaten anything today? Cause I haven’t, and you’ve been running around more than me,” I said, covering his phone with my hand.

“You haven’t eaten ?” he asked, sounding so scandalized I thought he was being sarcastic at first. “Come on, you’re eating something now.”

I let him lead me to where I’d already been headed. I even let him make me a plate. Alphas liked that kind of thing, and the poor guy could use an ego boost.

It wasn’t because I liked it, of course.

We sat side by side at a fold-out table. It was almost cozy. “How did you get into tour management? It’s kind of niche, right?” I asked to keep him from looking at his phone again.

Charlie looked a little sheepish. “I guess my dad got me into it. I was never going to be a musician, but I liked being around the business, and he opened doors for me.”

“Wait, who’s your dad?” I realized that Charlie and I had not talked about basically anything other than work or trying not to have sex.

“Dean Bennett. From North Portal. I thought everyone knew by now.”

I gaped at him. “You’re that kind of Bennett? Why are you even working at all? Shouldn’t you be swimming in a pool full of money somewhere?”

Charlie scowled. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t take anything unearned from my parents. Hence the… side gig. But the family name does help. I figure nepotism is a fair exchange for dealing with my dad’s bullshit for 32 years.”

“I always thought he seemed like a dick,” I said bluntly. It was true. His persona - all Alpha, all the time - rubbed me the wrong way. Charlie raised his eyebrows at me. “Sorry, I know he’s your dad, but he is kind of a dick, right?”

“For sure. It’s just refreshing for someone else to say it,” he said with an ironic smile. “What about your dad? Is he a dick, too?”

I scoffed, nodding, before I could stop myself. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I never met the guy, but from what I know, he’s a huge asshole.”

Charlie tipped his water bottle at me. “To shitty dads.”

I tapped it with mine. “Cheers.”

While I bugged Charlie with questions about growing up with two famous parents, we scarfed our food. Charlie only annoyed me twice by asking if I needed anything else and telling me I should eat more protein.

“Feeling better?” he asked as we made our way back to the stage.

“Yep. How about you?”

“Actually, yeah. I do. Thanks for the company,” he said, smiling. “Now, about this outfit.”

I looked down. I’d forgotten my revenge plan in all the drama.

“What about it?” I shrugged my shoulders a little so one side of the cardigan slipped down my arm.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.” His pupils dilated as he looked at me. That blazing, powerful feeling rushed through me again.

I stepped closer, letting the cardigan fall off my other shoulder. “Oh, does it remind you of something?”

He swallowed hard, his eyes hot. “You know it does.”

I rose on my tiptoes and braced my hands against his chest. Thanks to the boots, I could just about reach his ear to whisper: “It reminds me of when we almost lost control. I still think about that night, you know.”

Charlie gripped my hips. “Me too.”

“Did you think about me last night?” I asked, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“Fuck, Jess,” he said, almost pained.

The plan was quickly spiraling out of my control. Charlie’s scent was thickening, along with his cock against my hip, and I held onto the strands of my sanity even as my arousal built.

“What a shame you were all alone. Maybe next time you won’t try to manipulate a poor, innocent woman into doing what you want by refusing to get her a hotel room of her very own,” I said, then stepped back with an evil smile.

Charlie panted, staring down at me. He looked dazed for a moment, then grinned. “Well played.”

“Have a great gig,” I said, trying to sound carefree, and turned away.

Charlie wrapped me up from behind. His lips grazed the shell of my ear, and I shivered. “You might want to put on some more descenter, beautiful.”

I sniffed my shoulder. Damn it. He was right. Revenge had come at a price.

I stalked toward the door that would lead to the outside and flipped him off. He dared to laugh.

Of course, the bus wasn’t empty. That would have been too easy. Kieran was there, which meant soundcheck had ended.

As soon as I stepped onto the bus, his head whipped towards me, his nostrils flaring as he registered my perfume. His scent almost bowled me over. In my already weakened state, I had to fight the urge to throw myself at him.

We looked at each other.

“I needed a shirt,” he said.

“I came to get more descenter,” I replied. Somehow, the space between us was shrinking.

“There’s not enough descenter in the world to hide your perfume, love,” he rumbled. He was suddenly right in front of me. Had he moved, or had I?

“You’re not helping,” I said, reaching for his waist where I knew ridges of hard muscle were waiting for me to explore. His shirt was damp with sweat. He tensed as I traced my fingers under the hem.

I tried to tell myself it was my instincts, that I was out of control, but that was a lie. I wanted him. And couldn’t I just have what I wanted without all the Omega bullshit getting in the way?

Kieran stood completely still as I stretched my hands up under his shirt, feeling the hard planes of muscle on his chest. My perfume swirled around us, and I could feel slick gathering between my legs. My clit was throbbing with a sweet ache. “Take it off,” I said.

He complied, and I bit my lip. Shirtless, he looked even more like a Viking.

Tattoos swirled along his chest and shoulders, down his arms. There was a traditional clipper ship on one arm, Celtic designs on his chest, and a large geometric piece on his left shoulder.

I saw the wild woman on his ribs and brushed my hand along it.

Dark hair dusted his chest, then trailed down to disappear into his waistband.

But before I even had a chance to appreciate the view properly, he pulled on a fresh shirt.

I suppressed a whine. “You’re not supposed to be putting clothes on .”

“Not yet,” he said, his eyes gleaming.

“‘Not yet’? What does that mean?”

“I mean, we’re not doing this yet. Let me court you. Go on a date with me.”

“You’re insane,” I said dismissively. “I told you, I don’t date, and I don’t want to be courted . Can’t we just have fun? With no weird expectations?”

“And I told you, love, I don’t want something ‘fun’ with you.” He stepped around me, carefully not touching me. “And I won’t fuck you on a tour bus couch for the first time, either.”

I gaped at him. He gave me a grim smile.

“You’re seriously walking away right now?”

He stared down at me with an unreadable expression. “I’ll wait.”

Anger buzzed through me. “Then you’ll be waiting forever, asshole.”

“We’ll see,” he said, with that glint of amusement back in his eyes. “I’d better get inside.”

He left. I was still reeling. I dug through my suitcase until I found my industrial-strength descenter and sprayed it all over me, hoping that would be enough to hide the evidence of what these Alphas were doing to me.