“Manager’s office,” I snapped at one of the cashiers, who was staring at me with wide eyes.
“Through the double doors in the back left of the store. First door on the right.”
I headed in that direction, and the moment I walked into the office, Kalin rushed to his feet and crashed into me. I stuffed my phone into my pocket, then gripped the back of his thighs, lifting him. He wrapped his arms and legs around me, tucking his face into the curve of my neck.
I looked at the manager, who was sitting silently on the other side of the desk. “Thank you,” I told her. She nodded once. I rubbed Kalin’s back, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. He was beginning to tremble in my arms, no doubt beginning to crash. “Let’s get you home, little one.” Then, I turned and headed for the exit, breathing easier now that Kalin was safe and sound in my arms.
14
Kalin
When I pressed my face against Richard’s chest, he tightened his arm around my waist and massaged my scalp. I shamelessly inhaled, letting the scent of his cologne—something woodsy and citrusy—calm me. We were about halfway to his penthouse, and I was just ready to hide from the world for the foreseeable future.
While fans and press were something me, Spike, and the others had been dealing with since we’d signed with Nightwork Records, it’d never been that bad. Now, I understood why Richard had been so uneasy about letting the world know the three of us were together. Not only was our relationship unconventional—and that was enough to turn the media into a frenzy—but we were dating the CEO of the record label who’d personally come to offer us a signing deal.
“Little one, your phone is vibrating,” Richard said softly.
I shook my head. Even if it was Spike, I wasn’t sure I could be verbal right now. I was so tired and drained. I just wanted to curl up in bed between Spike and Richard, sleep, and pretend our relationship wasn’t the source of the media’s obsession.
“Kalin’s not available at the moment,” Richard suddenly said. I glanced up from his chest, surprised to see him holding my phone to his ear. “No, Salem, I’m not controlling his phone time. He didn’t want to answer.” Richard sighed. I grimaced. I knew how unbearable Salem could be, especially when he was worried about one of us. He was like the overprotective, slight unhinged father of our group. Most would never think so because he was such a dick, but he truly was overprotective as fuck of all of us.
“I’m taking him to the penthouse. Spike should already be waiting there for us.” A moment later, Richard pursed his lips. “I don’t know if they want that, Salem, but I’ll ask.” He looked at me. “Salem and the others want you two at home—says family protects each other.” My eyes welled with tears again. I didn’t know what I’d ever done to deserve someone like Salem, Tor, Dalton, and Jesse, but I’d never take them for granted.
I nodded, giving my consent to go home, but at the same time, I curled my fingers into his shirt, hoping he got the memo that I wanted him with us. He covered my hand with his. “I’m coming, too, little one. I just need to pack some clothes and my laptop, okay?”
I nodded, relaxing a little. He dropped a kiss to the top of my head. “I’ll bring them home,” he told Salem. “Give us about thirty minutes.” Richard rolled his eyes. “Yes, Salem, thirty fucking minutes.” Obviously, he was mocking Salem.
With that, he ended the call, then sighed and began cradling me to him again. “Salem is a piece of work.”
I snorted. He really was, but when push came to shove, Salem was the first on the front lines, ready to rip the world apart to protect all of us. Because before all of this, we’d only ever had each other, and the bonds formed through trauma were some of the hardest to break.
Once we made it to Richard’s building, he situated me on his lap so my arms and legs were wrapped around him once more, then slid out of the car. There were no paparazzi that we could see, but his bodyguards still flanked us into the lobby and up the elevator. As soon as Marco, one of Richard’s bodyguards, typed in the code to Richard’s door, it swung open, Spike immediately reaching for me.
“Let me get him inside, little tiger,” Richard said gently.
Spike frowned but nodded, standing aside. Richard strode into the penthouse, then carried me over to the couch, gently setting me on the soft cushions. The moment he straightened, Spike got on the couch beside me and tugged me into his arms.
“I was so fucking worried,” he rasped, burying his face in my hair and inhaling deeply. “I couldn’t get to you, and they were fucking crazy.”
“I’m okay,” I managed to whisper.
Spike tucked my head beneath his chin. “Never parting from you in public again, baby. Never fucking again. Thank fuck Richard could get to you.”
“The others want you at home,” Richard said from his bedroom. When I glanced that way, I saw he was folding his work clothes into a small suitcase. “So, when I’m done packing, we’ll head out.”
“Are you staying?” Spike asked. He couldn’t hide the hope in his voice even if he wanted to. I imagined after the day we’d had, Spike didn’t want to be apart from Richard either.
“I’m staying,” Richard promised. “Not leaving you two boys alone. Unless I absolutely have to go to the office, I’ll be right with you two until this all settles down, okay?”
Spike relaxed. “Okay.” Then, he buried his face in my hair again and squeezed me even tighter. Today had terrified me, but it was clear it’d shook Spike to his core, too. And to recover, we both just needed each other. Just like this.
The guys were all sitting in the living room like they’d been waiting on us. Two bottles of dark liquor were sitting on the coffee table, along with seven shot glasses. My lips twitched up into a small smile. Liquor—our answer for all bad days. Definitely not the healthiest choice, but it was almost tradition for us at this point.
“Delia is having a coronary,” Dalton said. “She called us demanding to know why she wasn’t informed of your relationship with Richard before it became public, then yelled at me because I told her it wasn’t her business who you decided to get your dicks wet with.”
Richard snorted, already tugging his phone from his pocket to no doubt deal with Delia, our manager. She was an amazing manager if you looked at her from a business perspective, but she was also a grade A bitch. Couldn’t fucking stand her. None of us could, really. But we tolerated her because again, she was actually good at her job.
“Come get wasted with us,” Tor said, sliding to the floor, where pillows had already been set up around the coffee table. “South Park is ready to play, we’ve got more alcohol than this if needed, and pizza and breadsticks are on the way.”