Just like that, guilt sinks its sharp claws into me. Haven’t you killed enough people already, asshole?
Storm looks at the broken whiskey bottle on the floor. “Tell me again how you’re not jealous.”
I flip him the bird. “I told you, jackass. It slipped out of my hand.”
His stare rests on the large dent in the wall. “Right.”
I’m about to kick him out, but there’s a knock on the connecting door.
Speak of the devil. “What?”
Lennon ambles in. She’s never been exceptionally perky or anything, but her demeanor is more serious than usual.
What’s the matter, Groupie? Prince Charming’s kissing technique not up to par?
“Chandler wanted me to tell you that your driver will be here at seven a.m. to pick you up for your interview on Saturday.”
The driver will be here, but I won’t.
“Hard pass.”
Lennon pinches the bridge of her nose. “Public relations comes with the territory of being a famous rock star, Phoenix. If you keep canceling all these interviews and dodging every meet and greet, the record label will fine you for violating your contract.”
Let them.
“I don’t give a fuck. They could fine me a million times and it still wouldn’t make a dent in my bank account.”
I’ve got more money than I’ll ever be able to spend in a single lifetime. Even after donating substantial sums of money to various charities every year.
Disgust scrunches her features. “Must be nice.”
That’s funny. Last I checked, she was well acquainted with the concept.
“It is nice.” Arms crossed, I stare her down. “Not like you wouldn’t know, princess. Daddy placed you in your nice ivory tower and gave you everything you ever wanted, remember?”
I relish the outrage on her face. “Go fuck yourself. Unlike you, I earn my money honestly.”
In my peripheral, I see Storm’s eyes bounce between us.
“I honestly worked my ass off for this career.”
She has no fucking idea.
I’ve sold my soul to the goddamn devil to get where I am, and he doesn’t take refunds or exchanges.
Those big brown eyes narrow in a vindictive stare, and she jabs a finger in my chest. “Being a liar isn’t a legitimate career.”
Christ. She’s like a baby shark who’s just had her first taste of blood and wants more.
Too bad I bite back.
Fisting her shirt, I pull her close. So close our noses touch.
“But taking your clothes off and shaking your ass is? Bet daddy’s so proud of you.”
The kill shot works because she goes silent.
But I’m not done.
Giving me shit about having money when she saw the trailer I grew up in is a dick move.
“Or not.” I palm her cheek. “Come on, Lennon. Why’d daddy cut his precious daughter off?”
Her face collapses and she takes a step back, looking at me like I’m the biggest piece of shit on earth.
I suddenly feel like it.
Before I can get to the bottom of why her cage is rattled so much, she’s gone, slamming the door behind her.
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
Pushing past me, Storm twists the doorknob and heads into Lennon’s room.
What the fuck is going on?
The walls in this hotel are paper thin but I press my ear to one anyway.
“What can I do?” Storm questions, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.
“Can you get George?” Lennon rasps, and it’s a kick to the gut.
This shit makes no sense. We’ve always pushed each other’s buttons.
It’s what we do.
In two strides, I’m barging into her room. “What’s wrong?”
Two things immediately catch me off guard.
The first—is that Storm’s hugging her.
Neither of us are huggers…unless we’re trying to cop a feel.
The second—and most important—is Lennon’s crying.
Her puffy, tear-stained face gnaws at my insides. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I can’t shake this feeling that I’m the punch line of a joke. One that isn’t funny.
“I was a dick, but I’ve teased you about being a daddy’s girl before and you never acted like this. What’s going on?”
Indignation steals over her expression, temporarily masking the hurt. “Why would I ever trust you with my personal shit? Get out.”
Fuck. Something is going on. “Len—”
A loud knock on the main door cuts me off.
“That’s George,” Storm tells her. “I texted him.”