Rock Reckoning: A Rockstar Suspense Romance Collection by Cari Quinn & Taryn Elliott

Author:Cari Quinn & Taryn Elliott [Quinn, Cari]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Rainbow Rage Publishing
Published: 2020-01-13T16:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Cocking my head, I grinned. Perfect.

I’d placed Zoe’s stolen camera on the bed and wrapped a spare towel around the top of it like a turban. After captioning it “spa day,” I uploaded it to Instagram and tagged Zoe as I did every day.

It was a rare bit of recreation in a life that suddenly didn’t leave me a lot of free time.

The world of a rockstar—even one in training, like me—moved about a dozen times faster than the regular world. I thought I understood that prior to signing on the dotted line with Ripper Records.

I knew nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

After the meeting with Sabrina—or Rina, as her friends called her, and her friends were not me—and Roman at Ripper Records, I’d been ushered to Roman’s design studio for a “lifestyle assessment” and profile, and a lengthy chat with Roman about my preferences in everything from hem length to whether I tucked left or right. I was informed that normally Roman would’ve had one of his top assistants interview me, but Rina was a good friend so I got the special treatment.

Which I suspected was bollocks. Somehow overnight, I’d gone from lukewarm interest to “sign this guy now.” I supposed the fact that my Instagram followers had gone from sixteen to more than ten thousand in that timespan didn’t hurt.

Who knew heckling Zoe would garner so much attention? My singing was an afterthought to my hair and my accent and my rings, but it was a start.

Sabrina sat at my side the entire time at Roman’s. She also remained in the room during myriad fittings and clothes selections. I’d balked momentarily, but only for a moment. I didn’t mind stripping in front of women as a rule. Just usually I’d at least kissed them first.

This was a far different situation. She knew more about my dick than my physician, and it didn’t even phase her. Or me, beyond the first five minutes or so, because I knew she was just trying to show it off like a prize summer sausage at a county fair.

As far as personal interest on her behalf? None. Less than none.

I’d been ushered from the design studio back to Ripper Records to sign paperwork. It had come after the original fittings, because there had been last-minute adjustments and Sabrina hadn’t wanted to wait to meet with Roman until the contract came through.

Some might say she knew they had me on the hook. I preferred to see it as she trusted I wouldn’t split with the very important Ripper Records trade secrets about the necessary tightness of denims.

It occurred to me as I was signing, I should have my own agent look it over. Assuming I had one, which I did not. It also occurred to me I had much bigger problems than predatory record contracts.

Such as the fact a noose was tightening around my goddamn neck with every day I didn’t have measurable progress for Jerry.

He wasn’t one to just go with the flow. Never had been since I’d known him, and much more was at stake now.

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