The Rockstar I’ve Loved for So Long Read online

  And one day…

  One day, Bree would make Dylan realize that.

  An hour later, Bree was showered and ready to go, having ordered a simple but elegant lavender silk jumpsuit from one of the hotel’s boutiques. On her way to the lobby, she called Andre.

  When he answered, she asked baldly, “Where is he?”

  “Aaaah…”

  “Andre, it’s no use lying.”

  “Umm…”

  “Please hand the phone to Ariadne,” Bree said with a sigh, knowing it was useless to force Andre to break the guy’s code for girlfriends keeping tabs.

  Ariadne came on the line. “Hi, Bree.” The other girl did not sound happy.

  “It’s okay, I’m not mad. I just want to know where he is.”

  “Henrietta Vermont’s house.”

  It took another hour to get to her next destination, and by then Bree was famished and freaking furious – three Fs that, when applied to her, would make anyone sorry for daring to cross her.

  The property was exactly what Bree imagined the supermodel’s home would be – glamorous, with doors and windows designed to make anyone less than six feet feel like a hobbit, and totally soulless.

  Henrietta had known Dylan even before Bree did, and when the two finally met, it was hate at first sight. But both of them were permanent fixtures in Dylan’s life – something that used to confuse her until last night’s revelations.

  Knocking on the door, Bree waited for a few moments before trying the knob. It turned without trouble, and when she went in, the state of the living room did not surprise her at all. The sight was hatefully and hurtfully familiar, hurtling her back to the parts of the past that she did her best not to remember.

  “Dylan?” 16-year-old Bree called out as she gingerly tried the door to his spacious penthouse apartment, one of the few that had a much-coveted view of Central Park.

  The door swung open easily, surprising Bree and making her more than a little nervous as she stepped past the doorway. The living room was fully lit, which was also weird. At eleven-thirty in the morning, the sun shining outside its windows would be more than enough to flood the entire apartment with light.

  There were a lot of sleeping bodies on the floor, in various states of undress, and she immediately looked away when the woman sprawled on one of the velvet couches turned towards her, revealing her naked breasts.

  She had to step over several bodies to make her way to Dylan’s bedroom and found it similarly occupied but without its master in sight. Bree flinched, realizing that the threesome on the bed were still intimately joined.

  She quietly slipped out and made her way to the other part of the apartment, heading to the patio – a place so expansive that it easily accommodated the hundred or so guests that would attend the parties that Dylan liked to throw.

  The patio, spectacular with its frameless glass walls and ceilings, was also littered with unconscious guests, and they slept next to empty wine bottles, beer cans, and glasses. Bree was tempted to hold her breath as she made her way further out, the smell of puke overpowering.

  She almost gave up searching for Dylan when she heard sucking sounds from behind the ten-foot-tall walls of the giant custom-made Jacuzzi.

  Bree followed the sound even as she became nauseous with fear of what she would see. Please let it not be—

  A blond woman was on her knees, her purple bikini top untied and hanging loosely over her breasts while her bikini bottom lay discarded on the floor.

  The woman was giving Dylan a hand job. He was clearly sleeping, but his…his…was not.

  When the woman looked up, Bree realized she recognized her. When their eyes met, she was again stunned to realize that the other woman recognized her, too.

  “Henrietta.” Bree couldn’t keep the revulsion from her voice. This woman was only two years older than her, but it didn’t feel that way. Henrietta was a woman – she was not. Henrietta knew how to please a man – she did not. Henrietta had experienced pleasure in Dylan’s arms – Bree had not – and she feared Dylan was determined she would never do so.

  “And you,” Henrietta drawled mockingly as she rose to her feet, uncaring of her semi-naked state, “are no doubt the famous Bree.”

  What had Dylan told Henrietta about her?

  Henrietta’s taunting laugh drew Bree’s gaze back to her. “Are you wondering why I know about you?”

  Before Bree could lie, Henrietta was already speaking again. “Don’t bother lying. Dylan tells me everything.”

  Bree sucked her breath in, the painfulness of those words surprising even her.

  “I know all about you, how you two met in a school concert, how you totally had him smitten because, you know, you’ve become his little sister – a replacement for the family he’s lost.”

  Henrietta’s slim shoulders shrugged. “I don’t really give a shit if you want to be his sister.” Her eyes narrowed, her tone sharpening as she added curtly, “As long, of course, you don’t have any ideas about becoming anything more than his sister.”

  Chapter Six

  “Oh my God.” The shocked gasp snatched Bree out of her reverie. Bree let out a little gasp herself, not realizing the memories had become so painful it made even breathing unbearable for her.

  “Are you all right?” The voice sounded closer.

  Bree turned blindly towards the voice. A second or two crawled by before she could see past the tears. A younger girl was talking to her, a petite blue-eyed blonde in a strapless dress so shiny it was like a disco ball.

  Farica de Koningh.

  The girl came from one of Europe’s oldest and most illustrious families. As far as Bree knew, Farica often made headlines in Europe but was rarely seen in this part of the world.

  She stiffened, struck by the realization that Farica might be here because of—

  “Hey.” The girl’s voice was even gentler this time. “I’m not after your rock star if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Bree inhaled. Somehow, the fact that a stranger knew about her and her fixation with Dylan was almost as bad.

  The girl’s groan made Bree look at her. Farica looked abashed. “I’m sorry. My cousins always tell me I have a big mouth. Please don’t take it the wrong way. I’m just always updated about…gossip.” Farica gave her a worried look. “Are you looking for Dylan Charbonneau?”

  “Yes and no,” she replied honestly after a beat. “I know he’s here, but not where exactly…”

  Farica’s answering wince didn’t give her any comfort.

  Easily guessing why Farica appeared so uneasy, Bree said quietly, “It’s okay. You can tell me anything. I’m not the type to kill the messenger.”

  “I didn’t think you were, but…”

  “I’d really rather know everything.” She watched Farica chew on her lip, the other girl visibly debating what to say next.

  Finally, the other girl said, “A friend of a friend got a message about Dylan being in a party. I read the news online about Dylan being in your prom so I thought you were an item already and this would be some sort of official celebration or whatever. When I came here, I didn’t even know this was Henrietta’s house—”

  Seeing Bree flinch, Farica said quickly, “No! It’s not what you think. They didn’t kiss, didn’t do anything, I swear. I promise. Cross my heart. It’s just that she was so clingy with him and he was so flirty with her, it didn’t seem…” Her voice trailed off uneasily once more.

  “It didn’t seem like he had a girlfriend,” Bree completed flatly.

  The tiniest wince was Farica’s only answer.

  “We’re still…adjusting.” It was the only way she could think to describe her relationship with Dylan…the jerk. The…ass. The…evil, hurtful, stupid man!

  Farica nodded profusely. “Sure, totally understand that.”

  It almost made her smile. “Thank you for being honest with me.” Bree paused, something still puzzling her. “I know you said you’re not…with Dylan…but…
if you’re not, why did you—”

  “Bother coming here?” Farica’s gaze became hooded. “I was hoping that because you guys would be here, someone I wanted to meet would be here, too.”

  “Oh.” It was a guy. Bree and Farica exchanged a look of understanding. She didn’t ask anymore. It was clear Farica wasn’t comfortable revealing who she had been hoping to meet.

  Farica’s directions ensured that Bree quickly found her way to where Dylan was. She released her pent up breath when she found Dylan alone on a loveseat in the third floor balcony, head thrown back, his eyes closed and his face drawn.

  Her heart stumbled.

  Gorgeous, sexy, sweet, crazy IDIOT.

  It was clear that he wasn’t happy at all about what he did.

  Bree stepped past the sliding doors, and even though she hadn’t made any sound, Dylan’s eyes immediately flew open, his head unerringly turning towards her.

  ****

  Bree was here. The words slashed into his mind, a terrible sense of fear and panic gripping Dylan. It was like the past all over again and although he had always tried his best not to remember the last time they had met like this, the sight of Bree’s face right now forced the memories back into the forefront of his brain.

  “Wake up, sweetie, you’ve got a visitor.” Henrietta’s purr, combined with her gentle shake of his shoulder, drew Dylan out of his troubled sleep. He opened his eyes, expecting Henrietta to be naked already with the way she was stroking his cock.

  But instead he saw Bree.

  “Fuck!”

  Dylan was on his feet in the next second, not giving a damn about the look of hurt anger on Henrietta’s face as he pushed her hand away from his body.

  Bree still hadn’t said a word. He had seen her mad plenty of times, and boy could she scream when she was. So why wasn’t she screaming now?

  Fear seized him by the throat at this unfamiliar cold and silent side of hers, and fear turned into panic when she suddenly turned away with a choking sound, as if she was no longer able to bear seeing him.

  “Wait!”

  But she didn’t stop to even look at him, half-running, half-stumbling out of the patio. He chased after her, but he had to stop to pull on his pants. By the time he got out of his apartment, he saw Bree already stepping into the elevator.

  Dylan shouted her name. “Stop, Bree, wait!” But he was too late, the doors only a few inches away from completely closing. The last thing he saw was Bree’s tear-stained face.

  It shook him: that look. He didn’t think he could ever forgive himself if he made Bree look – feel – that way again. Turning around, Dylan trespassed his way to the service elevator, saying bitingly to the stunned chambermaid, “Get me to the lobby. Now.”

  Luck was finally on Dylan’s side when he came out of the elevator and spotted Bree outside the building. He ran to her, ignoring how everyone was gaping at his bare-chested and barefooted form.

  “Bree.” He was breathing heavily when he reached her side. She didn’t look at him, forcing Dylan to move and stand right in front of her.

  She tried to look away, but he was faster than her, catching her chin and making Bree turn to him. The heartbroken look on her young face made him want to kill himself.

  But to acknowledge that pain would be even worse. It was difficult to pretend there was nothing wrong, but he managed to do it. “Where are you going?”

  Her eyes darkened in hurt at his inane question, but Dylan hardened himself against it.

  Finally, she said tonelessly, “Home to Saffi. I’m just waiting for the driver to pick me up.”

  “Tell him not to bother. I can drive you. I just need to take a shower—”

  “No, thanks.”

  “I—”

  “It’s obvious you’re busy.” Bree nearly choked on the word. Busy was such a lame way of describing how he had nearly come in Henrietta’s hand.

  “Bree…” He tried to use his cajoling voice, but it didn’t work this time. He waited for her to talk, to say anything, but she didn’t. Her silence made him feel like there was suddenly a wall separating them, and he didn’t fucking like that. He fucking hated it, but with every second that passed it was as if the wall only kept getting stronger and thicker.

  “I didn’t know you were coming.” It was a fucking lie, of course. Although she was a fairly good liar with other people, Dylan always found it easy to catch Bree on her lies. And in the past week, she had been more than obvious in her plans to surprise him with a visit.

  Just listening to Bree talk on the phone made it obvious to Dylan that she had been cooking up something big, that she was probably thinking her surprise visit would be a good time to tell him she was in love with him, had known that she was hoping he’d say ‘I love you’ back.

  And because he had known all of those, he had gotten himself drunk and then made sure that she would catch him with Henrietta.

  Only it had gone too far, Dylan thought sickly as he gazed at Bree’s face, flinching at the way she was trying so hard not to cry again.

  He had wanted her to see him with Henrietta but NOT like that. Goddammit, not like that!

  A limousine slowed down in front of them. Its chauffeur came out and opened the door for her. When Bree moved around him to get in, he panicked. He knew if he didn’t do something now, it would be over.

  “Bree, babe, please.” His voice came out hoarse.

  She had her back to him now, but she froze at the words.

  “Don’t…don’t be like this.”

  Bree’s shoulders started to shake. Oh God, how could he even say that after what she had seen? Did he even know…oh God, there didn’t seem to be any way to describe how much it killed her, seeing another girl able to make Dylan look like that.

  “Babe—”

  She let him turn her around, already crying. “You’re an ass.”

  “No, babe.” Dylan dragged her into his arms, tightening his hold around her. “I’m not. I’m a rock star and you’ve got to remember that.”

  “But I—”

  He cut her off, knowing he had to. Kissing her hair, he whispered, “You are special to me, Bree. Always will be. But you need to understand that I’m the kind of rock star that belongs to the world and not just one girl.”

  Chapter Seven

  No words were needed as they stared at each other. He knew and she knew both of them had been thinking about the past, and the memories didn’t leave either of them unscathed.

  Dylan shot to his feet, waiting tensely for Bree to speak – to scream, to break up with him. She looked beautiful, poignantly so. He wanted to reach out to her and make sure she was real. He wanted to taste her and see if what he remembered hadn’t been a dream.

  The guarded look on Dylan’s drawn face tempted Bree to be hysterical. Crazy, stupid man, she thought wildly. It was so very clear to see he wasn’t happy about what he had done. But he had done it anyway because – in a roundabout way – he was protecting both of them.

  He didn’t want her to completely fall in love with a man whose family history included schizophrenia and obsession, and he didn’t want to risk loving her so much he could end up hurting her just as much.

  Looking at him, she supposed she should be thankful that at least this time he was fully dressed. She stretched her hand out, surprising Dylan. She asked softly, “Did you really think you could push me away so easily?”

  His blue eyes widened, and Dylan wondered if he was hallucinating when he heard her next words.

  “Come with me now, Dyl. It didn’t work. Just accept that and let’s leave this place.”

  She looked determined and passionate. Passionate, he realized with shock, about keeping him as hers. It blew him away, and all he could think about was how hot she was this way, how much he loved her more when she was like this. She almost made him believe that all of his fears were for nothing and that Bree would be tough for both of them – tough enough to defeat science and genetics and prevent him from being schizophren
ic or obsessive by the sheer strength of her love.

  “Dylan?”

  He was about to say yes, he was damn well going back to her, when a movement from the other doorway caught his eye. It was Henrietta, and they all froze at her entrance. She was dressed in a near-transparent peignoir, her hair in wild disarray.

  Dylan’s eyes immediately flew back to Bree. If she believed he had cheated on her – again – with Henrietta, he didn’t think he would ever—

  Henrietta’s smile was pure poison. “Oh dear. You caught us again.”

  Bree returned the smile with one of her own. “Oh dear. You wish.”

  It was not like Bree at all to be a bitch, making Dylan bark in surprised laughter. Henrietta’s furious gaze shot towards him but he ignored it, his heart bursting with pride at the way the younger Bree was handling all this.

  The way Dylan was staring at her made Bree swallow hard. God, but he was so moody! And dear oh dear, but why did she find that so hot about him?

  One moment he was drowning in all his issues, using Henrietta as a barrier between them, but in the next second he was looking at Bree like she was the only person that could give him pleasure.

  And the way he kept looking at her was close to convincing Bree that it was true, no matter how incredible that sounded!

  Dylan slowly made his way to her. With every step he took, her heartbeat just kept getting louder and louder. When he took her hand, Bree’s entire body shook.

  Tomorrow might be another battle, but with his touch it meant today was hers. Today, he was hers.

  He said gravely, “What do you want us to do?”

  “What are you saying?” Henrietta screeched.

  Neither of them glanced at her. She couldn’t even if her life depended on it. She was too mesmerized with the way Dylan was gazing at her. She knew – she knew he had meant it when he told her he loved her, but in the cold light of day, it was a truth that felt a little unfathomable.

  Until now…

  “I want us to leave.”