Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
They could use their money to fuck off, but they use it to spend time together. Even when they’re in a warlike disagreement about their little sister living with them next year. Feels like some type of Game of Thrones battle with how much they rebut each other and offer bribes.
Eliot has even tried to convince me to sway Tom toward his side, but I’m staying so fucking far out of that mess.
Two: Their threats aren’t empty.
Evening Glory assaulted Tom, and I didn’t listen to Gunther and Roy’s pleas the next morning. My blood was still so hot. It’s hot now, just picturing Tom in a chokehold, on the verge of passing out, and my heart—my heart is wrecked knowing I wasn’t there sooner. Because I thought I needed space when, really, I just wanted to be with him.
Being apart is excruciating.
The morning after the assault, Tom made good on his threat and called our label. Our opener was not only thrown off the tour, but they were promptly dropped by Riot. I was fucking floored.
Birdie called me last week and asked, “Did Tom eradicate those losers from existence?” I was confused until he informed me, “Man, their socials are gone.”
When I mentioned it to Tom, he looked baffled until he called his brother. Eliot had apparently tracked down every member of Evening Glory and gotten them to delete their accounts. I don’t know what threats he used, but they were successful.
And that was just Eliot.
I have no clue what Charlie and Beckett could do to me if they feel like I’m hurting Tom. But last thing I plan to do is avoid his oldest brother.
So I text Charlie.
PHOENIX
Awake now. What’s up?
While I wait for a response, I pay off one of my credit cards. We’ve made a lot of money off merch, more than I ever imagined I’d see. It feels good to be free of some debt. I smile over at Tom as he lets out an audible breath.
His arm curls around his pillow, and his bicep tattoo—the word troublemaker—stands out. Some of his first ink, he told me. Now he has about five more tattoos since I met him. All small. Like Killer Ultraviolet on his thigh.
I’m about to work on lyrics for our second album when my phone vibrates.
Not with a text from Charlie.
JEREMY
Congratulations, boys. You did this.
Our manager sent us a link to the Billboard Hot 100, and my jaw drops when I click it.
“Tom,” I breathe out.
He doesn’t stir.
“Tom.” I jostle his arm. Jesus Christ, he could sleep through an earthquake. I smack his ass hard. He groans and kicks his legs at me, which are tangled in the bedding and do nothing but wrestle the sheets.
I climb on top of him, my knees on either side of his waist and my phone near his face. “Nepo baby, open your fucking eyes.”
He groans, hugging his pillow tighter. “I know I’m fuckable at all hours, but it’s too early.”
“Man, I’m not trying to fuck you,” I snap.
Tom makes an offended noise. “Okay, I am the greatest morning—” He cuts himself off, his eyes widening on my phone screen. “Is that—?” He pries my cell out of my hand, and I roll off him while he shoots upright. “Phoenix.”
I smile wider and wider. “Our song charted. ‘Nuclear Winter’ charted.”
“Ninety-four,” Tom springs to his feet. “Ninety-four. Holy shit. Ninety-four.”
I soak in his overcome reaction, amplifying mine by a million. It feels like the sun just exploded in my chest, and I laugh and jump on the bed with him before tackling him back into the mattress. His grin is infectious. We’re kissing and hugging and taking screenshots of our song sitting at #94.
“Best number in the world,” Tom says. “Move over number one.”
Funny thing is, he makes ninety-four feel like first place. I’m on top of him again when I tease, “You plan to tattoo ninety-four on your ass?”
“My leg, Phoenix.” He shoves my phone in my chest, more playfully. His smirk is out in full force. “And you’re getting a matching one with me this time.”
I smile back. “Deal.”
Tom jumps off the bed, heading to the bathroom. “I need to tell Eliot and Luna.” He swings back to me with outstretched arms and a smug smile. “And I thought no feeling would surpass beating Nothing Personal.”
I choke on a laugh. “We didn’t beat them, Tom.”
“The Carraways surpassed their follower count by two million, dude. They took a big ugly L.”
“Great, I can’t wait for you to tell them that when they join the tour in Detroit tomorrow.”
“I will,” Tom grins.
I shake my head, smiling back.
We’ve been without an opener for weeks, and I asked Scally if he’d want to join us. Nothing Personal will go on first in the evening, and we’re taking the late-night slot. So it feels like a co-headlining show.