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)
He’s my last hope for success at this point.
I stare harder at the three-wick, pine-scented candle as smoke billows. Ben bought a ton of these soy candles when he moved in. I think it was to set the mood for his girlfriend—but that’s not what I’m doing here.
Not…at all.
It’s not like I’m dressed for a candlelit dinner. I have on ripped jeans and a dark muscle tee that says BOWIE.
I move the candle to the other side of the kitchen counter. Then back to the first spot on the marble near the sink. I look up and realize the door is literally right there. This’ll be the first thing Phoenix sees when he enters the apartment.
All my brothers are MIA tonight. Ben, at a game board club thing on MVU’s campus. Eliot, at the theater. Beckett, ballet rehearsal. Charlie, unsure—but I would guess Central Park. The city might contain millions and stretch for miles, but it’s not big enough that I haven’t run into Charlie reading at the Ramble by the stream.
He has spots.
Routines.
With everyone occupied doing their own thing, I figured it’s perfect timing to invite Phoenix over to work on songs. Less chances for Beckett to interrogate him about his arrest history and for Charlie to do Charlie things.
I’m smart enough to know prolonging that meet-and-greet is better for my sanity.
But now I’m freaking debating on whether a candle is too much. Come on. It’s not like it says I wanna bang you. Right.
Right??
“The candle might be a necessity,” I tell them over the phone. “Ben burnt his vegan pizza bites before he left. The apartment smells like ass.”
“I have cologne in my bedroom,” Eliot offers. He looks like he’s calling from a dungeon. The blue glow of his phone brightens his stretching grin, but the rest of him is obscured in darkness. I think he’s in a broom closet. I don’t ask.
Luna sounds out of breath hustling on the quad. “I think cologne might be more suggestive than a candle,” she pants.
“Would it?” Eliot has a wicked smile.
I cringe into a groan. “Eliot Alice, don’t fucking set me up. Now’s not the time.”
“I like the candle,” Luna says again.
“I’m going with Luna’s advice.” I flick my Zippo lighter open. The flame eats the wick. I click the lighter shut.
Eliot wags a finger at me. “Better idea. You two just fuck. Get it out of your systems. Then you can focus on the band. Sexual tension can’t be ignored, brother.”
I’m shaking my head so hard, my neck aches.
“Or maybe, you just do what you’re doing?” Luna offers. “Aw, fuck!” She goes off screen, and the camera shakes violently.
“Luna?!” Eliot and I call out. My heart slams against my chest.
“I’mokaydon’tworry!” she says so fast her words slur together. She rights the phone quickly. Her chin is scraped and bleeding. “There was a duck.”
“A duck?” My brows rise. “Like quack-quack kind of duck?”
“Did it hurt you?” Eliot asks. “Because I know how to make duck à l’orange.”
I laugh, and I’m thankful Ben isn’t here. He wouldn’t appreciate that joke.
Luna touches her chin in a wince. “The duck is innocent. He was just crossing the sidewalk. I didn’t see him.” Her bodyguard reaches down for her hand and helps her to her feet. Luna nods at something off screen, then says to us, “I have to go. Tom, keep me posted.”
“Will do, Luna with No Middle Name.”
After she hangs up, I’m left with Eliot, and his burgeoning grin that I know all too well. “No, no, dude. There is no sexual tension between me and Phoenix. He’s not even gay.”
“He said that?”
“No, but I’d bet three million on red that he’s straight. That’s how sure I am.”
Eliot doesn’t like this conclusion, so I’m not surprised he’s trying to find holes in my logic. “Has he checked you out?”
“He mostly looks like he wants to shove a fork in my neck.”
His eyes darken. “And you’re home alone with him?”
“Dude, don’t be Beckett. I need you to focus.”
“Okay, first step is to find out if he’s attracted to men. If the answer is yes, you fuck him. You create a bond that lasts eternity. Music to thine ears, brother.”
I bend over the kitchen counter, my face in my hand. “Dude.” I love Eliot the most of all my brothers, I do, but he is a certified manwhore. “He’s not gay.” My nerves are shooting through the roof. Why am I acting like this is a hookup all of a sudden? We’re bandmates! I swear Eliot has incepted my brain.
“You could start with a blow job,” Eliot says casually.
Oh my fuck. I run my hands through my hair. “No. Rewind. We’re not fucking. We’re not blowing each other. He’s my—”
There’s a knock at the door.
Eliot smiles. “Is that him?”
Holy shit. I’m stressed. I refocus on Eliot as I make my way to the door. “I’ll figure this out. Just go kill your audition,” I tell him. “Merde.” I say shit in French, wishing him good luck. It’s like the superstitious “break a leg” colloquialism. Though Eliot isn’t nearly as superstitious as I really am. He will pretend to be for shits and giggles sometimes, but he believes in curses about as much as our dad believes in the Easter Bunny.