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head, all I manage to get out is, "What the fuck?" This pretty much sums them all up nicely.

"That's what I said. I did and said all the right things. Dated your way, did romance, made sure the sex was great, and when I proposed, you said no."

"We weren't dating, it was just sex, and it was only for three months." I try to reason with him. What person in their right mind would agree to marry a guy you barely talked to once a week for three months?

He just shakes his head, "Then, you ran back here. It couldn't have been more perfect. Dear old dad saw you, and then we knew exactly where you were. He got me their address and their schedules. Yet, when I showed up here again, you turn me down and slam a door in my face."

"Dad? Who's your dad?" I ask, trying to put the pieces together.

"Dave," he smiles, like he just solved the biggest mystery on the planet.

Dave, the guy's manager? The one who has the most to lose over the guys starting their own label, because they won't be bringing him with them.

"Shit." The dots all start connecting. Dave's reaction to seeing me that day, and how quickly Branden showed up after. I knew he was lying about the mail.

"You know they plan to stop touring?" He continues, as he takes a step towards me. "They want to open their own label, and put Dad out of business. The label is insisting he retire, once the guys break off on their own. But when he retires, he gets barely five percent of what he's making now. You see the problem?"

Oh, I'm seeing the problem, but I don't think it's the one he sees. Daddy's pay gets cut, and there’s less money to fund what looks like his little drug problem. What I don't get is what I have to do with all this.

If he has been saving for retirement, he should be loaded. I have an idea of what the guys make, it's closer to the billions number, and he gets a slice of that, so he's making millions. Yeah, I know the cut in income will be hard to swallow but a change in lifestyle, and he's set for life.

The guys have been saving for retirement. Hell, they have saved for their retirement, mine, all our kids, and even the grandkids would be set. They don't blow money. The biggest thing they bought was this house and live together to save money.

I'm guessing Dave didn't do all that. He's up there in age, so he had to have known he'd be forced to retire soon anyway.

I don't realize how close he's gotten, because my brain goes down a path it shouldn't have been. The next thing I know he grabs my wrist in a hold so tight I cry out in pain.

"So, here's how it's going to be. You break up with your little boy toy here and marry me, or we will destroy the band and them. We have enough dirt on them to send them to federal prison for a long time." He laughs.

"You have nothing on them! They have done nothing!" I yell and start to fight to get out of his hold. Big mistake, because he tightens his grip, making the tears I was holding back start to fall.

"Doesn't matter what they did or didn't do, there’s enough evidence to put them away. It's great to know the right people."

In other words, they manufactured enough evidence. My mind starts racing. They have always put me first and protected me. Now, it's my turn to protect them. I can do this.

I guess, I was quiet for too long, because he jerks my wrist and slams me against his body. The pain shooting up my arm has me worried it might be broken, and when he twists my wrist, it hurts so badly, I start crying. I try to turn away from him, because his breath is putrid and is making me sick.

"You have one week. Break up with him and make it believable. Maybe, tell him he has a small dick, something good that will hurt. Pack your shit and move out."

He places a key into my other hand, along with a card that has an address on it.

"Your new apartment, sweetheart." He leans in and kisses my cheek, before turning and leaving.

The moment the door closes, I collapse on to the floor crying. How could I be so stupid? He pursued me, and I fell for it. Now, look where I am. I don't dare try to call the guys, my luck he has my phone tapped. I don't know what to do, but I know crying on the floor isn't it. If the guys see me like this, they will know something is wrong, so I need to get moving. Besides, crying on the floor won't get anything done.

I move my wrist, and it doesn't seem broken, but it hurts like hell. I can focus on this. One task at a time. I head up to my room and find the wrist brace I use, when I'm on the computer for long periods of time. The guys won't question it if it's this one. I switch out of Dallas's shirt and put on one of my sweatshirts. The need to cover the most skin overwhelms me.

I grab a suitcase and start packing, deciding what to take with me, so he thinks I really packed, but making sure what I take is stuff I don't care if I never see again, because that might happen. I will set his place and him on fire, before I marry him, and I won't let the guys go to jail. They do too much good with the music, the band, and the charities.

I will figure this out. But for now, I need to buy us all some time and let him think I'm doing as I'm told. Then, I

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