Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Storm missed us,” he said, his morning voice gravelly. “The eye hit the panhandle, but it looks like it weakened to a tropical storm. They’re assessing damage, but hopefully other than some power outages, flooding from the surge, and downed trees, everything should be okay.”
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until he said that last part. “Really?”
He squeezed where he held me. “Storm surge was only a few feet. Really shouldn’t be too bad.”
“I want to help,” I said immediately. “I’m going to tell my assistant to be at the ready to send money to the panhandle or wherever they need assistance. There has to be some way we can help — bottled water or rehoming people who need it.”
I threw the covers off me as my phone rang again from down the hall, but Aleks held firm to my leg until I looked back at him. He had a sleepy smile on his face, his eyes warm.
“Not enough to be the biggest pop star on the planet, you have to save the world, too?”
I stuck my tongue out at him, surprising both of us when I planted a kiss on his lips before popping up out of the bed.
My cheeks flushed.
Was I allowed to kiss him without cameras around now that it was daylight?
“You should help, too, money bags,” I said, trying not to overthink anything until we talked. “I know what your signing bonus was last season.”
“I already donate to FEMA and two local Tampa organizations for kids, you brat.” He leaned up and smacked my butt with that last part, which made me giggle as I skipped away from him.
Okay… so we were doing butt smacks and thigh grabs. That had to mean something…
Right?
“Well, you should send more.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a wink, and visions of him saying those words last night and all the things that followed made my head spin.
Who even were we?
My chest tightened with the need to talk to him about last night, about the things we said, the things we didn’t say. But my phone was insistent, so I pushed pause on my anxious train of thoughts and jogged down the hall.
I had multiple missed calls from everyone on my team — my agent, my tour manager, my mom, and of course, Isabella. I called her first, eyes crossing as I held the phone away from my ear when she screamed into the phone upon answering.
“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? WHY HAVEN’T YOU BEEN ANSWERING ME?!”
“Good morning,” I said calmly. “Why, yes, I did survive the storm and am well, thank you for asking. We lost power, but are otherwise okay.”
“Oh, don’t give me that shit. I already knew you were okay or I would have sent an ambulance. Now, get your ass dressed and pack your suitcase. A car will be picking you up in twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes?!” I glanced at myself in the mirror in Aleks’s guest room, panicking at the sex-mussed monster looking back at me. “What would you have done if I didn’t answer?”
“Sent it anyway and told Hunter to beat down the door.”
“Bella!”
“Get dressed, bitch! You’ve got a sold-out show in Madison Square Garden tomorrow!” She sang that last part, and even without seeing her on the other end, I knew she was shimmying and smiling and would likely have pinched my side if I was with her.
I giggled. “Oh, my God… I have a sold-out show in Madison Square Garden.”
At that, I squealed and jumped up and down while Isabella hyped me up on the other end. Maybe the storm had wiped the fact from my brain, or maybe I was so sure I’d have to cancel that I couldn’t let myself celebrate.
Or perhaps I was just dazed from being dicked down by my best friend.
Regardless, it felt like that moment was the first it really hit me.
In just over twenty-four hours, I’d be on one of the most well-known stages in the world, singing my songs with a crowd full of fans.
I whipped around the room like a tornado as soon as we ended the call, getting dressed as fast as I could. I wrangled my hair into a slicked-back ponytail, put on some tinted moisturizer and mascara to disguise my exhaustion, and shoved everything in my suitcase without care for organizing it.
The only time I paused was when I peeled Aleks’s t-shirt off me, holding the fabric to my nose and inhaling deeply.
I threw it in my suitcase, too.
He wouldn’t miss it.
When I rolled my suitcase into the living area, I had less than three minutes before my security team would escort me to the car.
Aleks was waiting for me, his hip leaned against his kitchen island, arms folded over his bare chest. He wore only the joggers I’d watched him peel off last night, and my mouth watered at the sight of his muscular abdomen, the tattoos on his chest and arms, the chain around his neck.