Rockstar Secrets (Forbidden Chords Book 1) Page 19

  “Dreams are what you make them, dear. Your father toured the world with all of us. It wasn’t popular, and his label discouraged it, but the SinSations were all about family. We learned to bend fame around our desires, and it worked. You have to find a way to do the same. Make fame work for you.”

  “But engaged?”

  “Son, in this industry you should believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see.” Her laughter held no trace of humor. “Andrew, do you love her?”

  “Yes.” He loved from a place that will exist after the last beat of his heart. Deep and wide and whole with only one selfish expectation...love me back or leave me alone. Could she handle it? Was it a possibility for them?

  “Then talk to her. You can’t crisis manage assumptions or rumors. Face it head on, your heart is already involved. And we’ll be there for you every step of the way.” He nodded, as if she could see him. “My heart tells me there's more to it. I’d hate for it to be true. But we all have secrets, nobody is immune to the challenges of life.”

  “Mom, you should be a motivational speaker.”

  She laughed from her gut this time. “Nah, I’ll leave the stages and audiences to you and your father.” He could hear the smile in her voice, offering him a light of hope. “What are you going to do son?”

  “I’m going to call the guys and head to Houston.” The Brione he fell in love with was worth it, worth pursuing the truth about this engagement. He had to know for himself.

  “Do you need us to send the plane?”

  “No, not if Cameron is heading this way. Thanks, Mom, and I love you.”

  “Love you too. And Andrew none of this makes you the man you are. We will love you no more or no less. Whether you top the charts or sing in a dive bar in Austin. I’ll always always be your number one fan. Just follow your heart.”

  “I’m trying—”

  “Don’t try. Do.”

  The SUV stopped in front of the next radio station. He had a choice to make. He glanced at his watch and tapped his phone on his knee. He opened a browser and searched his name on Google. His name was in the headlines for all the wrong reasons. So much for keeping his name clean on this tour.

  Home Wrecker?

  New Deal, Old Marques.

  Wife You, Marques in Love.

  A light knock on the window pulled him away from the garbage on his screen. And through the tinted window he saw Brione.

  No hiding.

  Brione was taking the chance of her life. She had to cling to something other than fear. Fear kept her in hiding, kept her bound to shame, kept her in the dark. It kept her alone. Isolated. And Marques changed it. Him and his fancy moves, amazing voice, his loving heart. How could love not change her? No, not merely love but his love. And truth be told she wanted him by her side as she attempted the greatest feat of her life, getting full custody of Kayla.

  So, no more hiding. She hid for far too long. She hid in law school. She hid behind Stewart’s threats. Her parents’ expectations.

  No more. Not after experiencing life walking beside Marques.

  Hell, she had weathered it all, and she was still standing. That in itself was evidence that anything was possible. Anything. Even getting Marques to accept her apology.

  Brione waited in the car at the location for him to arrive then she saw him pull up with the phone pressed to his ear.

  A woman of many plans. A woman of figures and facts now found herself relying on her heart as she walked over to the SUV on wobbly legs. Her only comfort was the words Marques whispered in her ear in early July.

  Praying love—this love—can withstand the boogeyman.

  And now here she was, worry snaked through her as Marques stared deep into her soul. His face was hard as concrete with the evidence of fatigue in his eyes. Her heart all tapped out by the highs and lows of one morning. How had they gone from ecstasy to hell in two hours?

  He rolled down the window.

  “I bet…” she swallowed hard, “this could be a dealbreaker, but I’m hoping it’s not."

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Marques reached for the handle, Brione stepped back as he opened the door. She had argued for death row cases, went to bat for immigration issues, and had walked away from her family. But nothing, compared to climbing in the SUV next to Marques.

  “Excuse us, please.” The bodyguards stepped out, closing the doors behind them. Now they were alone.

  “How are you?” he asked, and her eyes shot up from her hands meeting his. After all, she’d put him through today, he was still concerned about her. He reached for her hand, a slow smile crossing his face. “I’m nervous.”

  Her phone chimed, and she glanced down at the screen.

  “Is it him?” The last word sounded forced as Marques’ jaw clenched, his beautiful smile gone.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you engaged?” He retracted his hand, missing her warmth already.

  Brione had never told anyone the whole story, it all seemed bizarre like a crazy Lifetime movie. But it was her truth. She called on every skill she learned from watching her father lobby, her professors in law school, and her bosses in the courtroom. She turned off her screen, took a deep breath and stared into his eyes ready to tell him everything. She straightened her back and faced the man she loved.

  “My father is a career politician. I guess in a lot of ways our upbringing is similar. Yours in the music industry under the assessing eyes of the public, mine was under the microscopic scrutiny of taxpayers. Every election meant we were plucked and picked apart.” She looked away, her courage stammering under his intense gaze. “It was always intense. I learned to say the right things, wear the right clothes, have the right friends. But I never liked it. Never quite knowing if people were interested in knowing me or getting close to me to rub elbows with my father.”

  She shifted in the leather seat rubbing the hem of her shirt between her fingers. “It wasn’t all bad. I went to the best private schools in Austin. I excelled in academics, and it made my parents happy. But I was always awkward.” She looked up at him, “You always ask why I hide, it’s how I survived. I was blending in not to stand out or draw attention to myself. It was my shell, how I learned to protect myself.”

  She laughed without a trace of humor. “Where you abhor normalcy, I’d love nothing more than to live an ordinary, regular life.”

  She took a deep breath. “Anyway, my comfort in the shadows irked my parents. I’d rather hide with a book, whereas my brother was very much my father, a social butterfly, thriving on the energy from others. He moves through the room much like you. People gravitate to him because they can’t help it. Moths to a flame.” Just like me, she reached for his hand missing his touch.

  “I always envied that. I have to think and rehearse to pull my words together. I think better on paper than aloud. But I’ve learned a lot by hiding in the shadows.” She smiled.

  “Like what?” Marques squeezed her hand.

  “Let’s see,” she thought about all she’d learned on this tour, “you inaccurately view your drive for success.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She turned her body to his, “Your success is equally fearful and fueling. You see it as this mountain to conquer, but I believe you’ll always be singing, writing, producing. It is as relevant to who you are as your last name.” He winced. “But not like that, not negatively but I see it as fertilizer to your soil. It makes you better. I saw it that night in New Orleans. You stood ten feet taller with your family in the room. This album could flop or crush every record known to man and your family would love you no more, no less.” She brushed away a tear, that too she envied, her family had stipulations, conditions, and prerequisites. It hurt so much that she had to walk away. Their way or no way.

  “The election of President Obama intensified my father’s pursuit. It showed him a black man could aspire for the presidency and in return, his reigns on our family tightened. Our lives became a weird dictatorshi
p. And in high school I was feeling the strain of always pleasing them. Always appearing perfect and I started acting out. Hanging with the wrong people, sneaking out. As a compromise, he introduced me to Stewart, the son of his friend.” She felt Marques tense at her side.

  “If I said I was going out with Stewart there were no questions or fights about my destination. And I had freedom for the first time in my life. I went to parties, traveled, and it was all well until I left for college. We both went to UT and Stewart turned into my father.” She grimaced at the memory. “I wanted to live it up. I met Eliana and had real friends. And not because I was Jeffrey Allen’s daughter.”

  “Then one night I went out to a party with Stewart and his friends trying to keep the peace. Our parents were putting on the pressure. They saw us as the future of Texas. His wealth and my name bringing together two Texas powerhouses. Who says things like that?” She looked at him, pulling out of her past, hoping he was her future.

  “It’s more common than you think.”

  “I’m sure it is.” She’d never do that to Kayla, never. “It makes relationships nothing more than another business transaction.”

  “What happened that night?” Marques brought her back to the story.

  “That night is quite possibly one of the best and worst nights of my life.” Her vision blurred, she turned towards the window not sure she could continue. She took several deep breaths. No one knew this part. It was an ugly truth she’d swore she’d take to her grave. She felt Marques pulling her to him, and she rested in his embrace, inhaling his familiar scent and the peace that came with being with him.

  “I went out with them, and somehow I blacked out. I don’t remember anything except going and waking the next morning.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t explain it. I remember having a drink or two and flashes of going to Stewart’s place. Then the next morning I was home. I asked Stewart about it. He laughed it off saying I was drunk. A few weeks later after a major fallout between us, he revealed his true colors.” Her heart raced thinking about the rage in his eyes when she tried to break it off with him. “He had a phone full of pictures, and he threatened to sell them. It was an election year for my father, and when I went to them, my father said he’d take care of it.”

  “And did he?”

  Brione didn’t hate her father. But she didn’t know if she’d ever forgive him. “Yes and no. He met with Stewart’s father, and they insisted we marry.”

  “Why would your father agree to that?” The anger in his voice was thick.

  “Because my father wanted to keep his image clean and I was pregnant.”

  “Pregnant.” Marques sat up. “You have a child?”

  Brione nodded, her eyes not meeting his. This changed everything. She was engaged and a mother.

  “I immediately became an issue to handle. A crisis to manage. A potential blemish on my father’s stellar reputation. And my father handled it.” Her hushed voice was like a knife cutting through his heart.

  “Baby…” Marques held her tight as her tears soaked his shirt. What happened? What was he going to do?

  “This is a dealbreaker. Isn’t it?” she muffled into his shirt, and he was speechless. “Don’t answer that.” She sat up brushing away the traces of her pain.

  “What’s Stewart’s last name?” Her father and her family failed her. He couldn't abandon her too. But this Stewart guy needed to learn a lesson.

  “That’s not the point. I have a plan to handle this. I just want to ask you, will you wait for me?”

  “You about to marry that dude?” His voice was foreign to his ears. His heart raced, and it had nothing to do with the tour or his career.

  “No.” She looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “I took this job to save money. To pay him off.”

  “Pay him off? For what?”

  “Marques, he has custody of our daughter. I guess I should finish the story.”

  “Please, because I’m ready to fly back to Texas and rip the dude’s head off.” All he needed was his last name, and then he recalled this morning’s interview. Stewart Bradley, Jr. If he was, in fact, the son of a billionaire, it shouldn't be too hard to find him. “Just a second.”

  He pulled out his phone and Brione glared at him, questions running through her eyes. He kissed her softly, happy she didn’t pull away.

  “You were on my list of To Dos this morning.” Damian skipped the morning greeting, the severe edge in his voice was not missed by Marques.

  “I bet.” He rubbed away the traces of her tears with his thumb. “I need everything you can find on Stewart Bradley, Jr.” Brione sat back her mouth hanging wide open.

  “I’m ten steps ahead of you Baby Boy. I got it in my hands.”

  His breath hitched, every muscle tensed. “Is it as bad as I think?”

  “It’s probably worse.”

  “Does the report say anything about...” he glanced at Brione.

  “Kayla Bradley…” she whispered.

  “Kayla Bradley,” Marques repeated.

  “Yes,” Damian read down a list of facts, “she is three years old, born at St. Davis Hospital in Austin, Texas. She lives at—”

  “I want this guy like yesterday.”

  “How do you want him served?” Damian’s sinister chuckle filled the space between them. “Hot or cold?”

  “Surprise me. Family…”

  “Over fame.”

  Marques disconnected the line, satisfied. It was as good as done.

  “What did you do?” she questioned.

  “Nothing.” He had a lot of thinking to do, but he wouldn’t let that scumbag threaten Brione and live, unless they could ensure he’d learn to treat her with the respect she deserves.

  “You have to let me handle this on my own," Brione demanded.

  “Wrong answer.”

  “And being a bully is not the answer.” He saw the hint of a smile.

  “Baby, when you roll with a Carter you get the whole tribe. So we either do this together, or I’ll do it my way.”

  “Give me thirty days. Please.” She held his face in her hands.

  “A month?”

  “A month. I’m trying to undo four years of blackmailing and get my daughter back for good.”

  He looked away. Thirty days felt like a lifetime. “And what about Stewart and your engagement?”

  “He’s trying to force a date, but I’ve been consistently resistant to the entire plan. I only went along in hopes of getting Kayla back. Baby, I cannot…” her bottom lip quivered, “lose her.”

  “I won’t approach him for thirty days.” Marques captured her mouth for the first time since this morning, and every doubt and question was answered in the way her mouth yielded to his demands. “And you won’t lose Kayla. We’ll get her back.”

  He'd asked Brione to join him for a week in Miami hoping for a good time on the beach. Now, he had a woman with a child. But walking away from his heart was not an option. His hand gripped the back of her neck and pulled her body against his.

  He pulled away to breathe and she whispered, “And I’m sorry for pulling you into my situation. I didn’t think we’d end up here.”

  “You gotta stop crying. I want to get my hands on all of them and your thirty-day demand is only making it worse.”

  “These are happy tears. I promise.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “I love you. And loving you is as natural as breathing. It feels like I’ve waited alone all these years for your heart to find mine.”

  It was his undoing. Marques pinned her on the seat, covering her body with his. He wanted nothing more than to make love to Brione, right here and now.

  “We gotta go.” She squeezed between each soft kiss. “You have an interview, and I have a flight.”

  “A flight?” He stopped, their raspy breathing causing the windows of the SUV to fog over.

  “I’m going to Austin. It’s time I talked with my parents, in person.�
�

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No Marques. This is where you belong. Finish your interviews and your shows. You worked hard for two months. You have to finish strong.”

  “We worked hard.” He planned to finish the show, but not without her.

  “So, represent us well. And I have a plan for your Atlanta show that will help quiet these rumors, and I’ll get with Devin to write an official statement.”

  He was shaking his head already objecting. “You not being there is like proving they are right.”

  “They’ll move on faster without seeing me there.”

  “I don’t give a damn about them. It’s about us.”

  Now she was shaking her head. “Andrew I won’t let you blow this. You got me, and I got you. But I have one request.”

  “Can you sing for me tomorrow night?”

  “I’ve been singing to you since Coffee Confessions, because I love you too.”

  “Thank you.” She kissed slow, and he felt the shift. “Now get to your interview, and I’ll go hide the red chair.”

  His head fell back, and their laughter filled the SUV. Every song on stage and running in his head were for and to Brione. To finally hear her say the words sealed their hearts. He now had to remove the dark cloud hanging over his woman’s head, and they would.

  They exited the SUV, and he walked her back to the car still waiting. “I have one final condition Bri.” She turned on her heels. “You’re taking Bull with you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The Miami show went without mention of the pictures, and Sam conveniently missed the concert. Marques and Bri talked every night. But it wasn’t the same as falling into bed with her after every show. He missed her.

  Marques arrived in Houston, two weeks shy of her thirty-day request. He promised to not approach Stewart, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t see her. He stepped out of his car and walked to her door with flowers. He had Eliana make them a reservation for dinner tonight too.

  Closing the tour this weekend in Atlanta occupied his thoughts next to holding Brione. His family and friends were pumped. The tour had exceeded his expectations. He stopped at the door and knocked. The small flowerbeds on either side of her front door added a personal touch to the brick two-story structure. The quiet community of condominiums was near downtown. He estimated they were about thirty minutes from the RSE Houston compound and fifteen minutes from Damian and Imani’s dance studio. Maybe Brione would like to head over there and see it before dinner.