With You: A Rock Star Romance (Rocked in Love Book 1) Read online

  Jessica Marlowe

  WITH YOU

  Copyright © 2019 by Jessica Marlowe

  CONTENTS

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  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Excerpt No More Yesterdays

  Exclusive Offer

  Enjoyed This Book?

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  Dedication

  Novels by Jessica Marlowe

  Copyright

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  chapter

  ONE

  April 1st, Oakdale, New Jersey

  Emily’s car came to a screeching halt. There was a crap ton of traffic for two p.m. on a Friday. Her bosses had closed the office early after a celebratory lunch because Bradford and Ross Marketing had just landed the Franny’s Gluten Free Goods account.

  It was a bright sunny afternoon, but a cold wind whipped around her car, reminding her that spring hadn’t yet sprung. The diamond in her engagement ring sparkled in the sunlight, casting a prism of colors on the interior of her car. Three more weeks until she and Sully would be married, and she couldn’t wait. She’d made the final payment to the vendors last week, and today she’d given the head count to the wedding coordinator at the Park Manor. Next week she’d have her final fitting.

  Since her wedding to-do list was in order, Emily turned her focus on the changes she needed to make for her latest book. She had two weeks left before it was due to her editor, and she was behind. She’d thought writing a story where the two main characters were planning their wedding was a great idea, since she’d have lots of material to work with. Luckily for her, her wedding plans had gone smoother than her characters Elle and Stephen’s had. They couldn’t catch a break. Emily laughed to herself. Until now. Emily turned on her mini recorder and placed it on the seat next to her.

  “Change Steven’s dad’s occupation to some job working at The Wellesley Hotel in NYC, where there will be a sudden cancellation for the date of their wedding. Her dress may suddenly be found at the shipper’s facility, or better yet, a dress shop in town offered to replace her dress with one of their off-the-rack dresses, since she doesn’t have time to order another one.

  “Okay, next chapter will be the wedding rehearsal. Have Nicki, oops, sorry, Natasha, sneak off with Stephen’s brother, maybe call him Tyler or King. Somewhere have Elle say ‘She couldn’t wait for their happily ever after to begin.’ Final chapter. The wedding. Start from groom’s point of view. And maybe do an epilogue after a few months to check in.”

  Emily clicked the recorder off. The rest would come when she sat down to write. She’d written herself into a corner, and now she had the perfect way out. She’d have to make several adjustments to the manuscript in order for the ending to work properly, but two weeks should be plenty of time. Emily hadn’t been able to write the final chapters where the wedding occurred and their happily ever after began, so getting the afternoon off was fortuitous. The blaring of a car horn pulled her out of her thoughts. She waved in apology and pulled forward. As was the way with traffic, it suddenly opened up as if there hadn’t been any in the first place.

  Emily pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex and parked. She snagged her pants on the corner of the door getting out of the car, but luckily the fabric didn’t rip. April Fools’ be damned. She was having a great day. She unlocked the door and hurried up the stairs inside her apartment.

  Sully wouldn’t be home until after seven, so she had at least four hours to work. She hung her purse from the railing and walked down the hallway. She was about to go into her office when a noise registered. It sounded like people having sex. Mrs. Locke, her downstairs neighbor, was a widow in her eighties, so Emily doubted it was her. Most of the other apartments in her section were empty during the day.

  She caught a faint whiff of perfume. Heat flooded Emily’s body, and her scalp began to tingle. She never wore perfume and didn’t own any.

  “Oh yeah, baby, like that.”

  Emily swallowed the panic that rose in her throat making it hard to breathe. It couldn’t be. It must be the television. Except they didn’t have a TV in their bedroom. She hadn’t noticed his car in the parking lot, but then she’d been preoccupied with her story. She forced herself to continue down the hallway. Emily felt like she was floating as all the nerve endings in her body fired. She scrunched her eyes closed and took the final step into the doorway. She opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t.

  “Oh, Sully, yes!” the woman riding Emily’s fiancé screamed.

  Emily opened her mouth but nothing came out. She felt paralyzed, unable to scream, move, or breathe. She knew the exact second the little bitch riding Sully realized that Emily stood there because she turned her head as a slow grin broke across her face. Tiffany. One of the many girls from Sully’s office who was infatuated with him.

  Emily wanted to throw up, but there’d be time for that later. “Get out!” she screamed. Her voice was shrill.

  The unrelenting squeak of the mattress finally stopped. Sully sat up; he was still inside that bitch. Emily couldn’t read his expression, except it wasn’t the least bit guilty. Seconds ticked by as the two of them just sat there staring at her.

  Shock gave way to anger, and Emily said through tight lips, “Get the fuck out of my apartment. Now!” Emily spotted their pile of clothing on the floor. She lunged forward, scooped up their clothes, and went to the window. “Let me help you.” She flung the entire pile out. The smell of his cologne and her perfume fused into a nauseating mixture.

  She turned back to the bed. Sully and Tiffany, wearing shocked expressions and nothing else, just stared at her. “I can see you need more help.” She opened Sully’s closet and grabbed all of his suits, ties, and dress shirts. When she turned toward the window, Sully finally spoke.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  She turned on him, still holding his clothes. “Don’t I dare? Are you fucking kidding me?” She was sure the clothes were heavy, but Emily couldn’t feel anything. It was as if her entire body shut down; even her leg didn’t hurt. She crammed everything out the window.

  “Get off,” Sully said to Tiffany, who still stared at Emily open-mouthed. She scrambled off and grabbed the sheet to cover herself. “Emily, calm down.” He stood. “We need to talk.”

  Had he really just told he
r to calm down? Was this some fucked-up dream? Maybe she’d been in a car accident and was in a coma? There was no other explanation. Hatred tore through her, and her blood boiled. “I’ll say it slowly this time. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Now.”

  Sully took one step toward her.

  “Now!” Emily screamed so loudly her throat hurt. She might have just screamed bloody murder because Sully took a step back, and Tiffany looked scared. Good.

  He put his hands up. “Okay, just let me grab—”

  “How have I not been clear? Now.”

  “You threw our clothes out the window,” Tiffany whined. “What are we supposed to do?”

  What are they supposed to do? Emily had never experienced such a rush of violence in her life. She wanted to rip Tiffany’s face off and cram it down her throat so she’d never have to hear her tinny, whiny voice ever again. Her muscles tightened until she shook. “Now,” she said through her teeth. Emily reached for the bat in the closet.

  “All right, all right,” Sully said. He yanked the top sheet and blanket off the bed. He handed Tiffany the sheet and wrapped the blanket around his waist. “Come on.” He stood in front of Tiffany as they backed out of the room and down the hallway.

  Emily followed. Every muscle in her body ached with tension. She glared at them as they went down the stairs and out the door. Emily waited until she heard the door close to run down and lock it, sliding the security chain into the housing. A wave of nausea had her rushing up the stairs and into the kitchen, making it to the sink just in time as her lunch reappeared.

  She sank to the floor, catching her blouse on the cabinet handle. It ripped, but she didn’t care. Tears burned a trail down her cheeks, and her body shook. She couldn’t believe what just happened. But she’d seen it with her own two eyes, and the images were seared into her brain.

  When her tears finally dried up, she sat on the cold floor, too weakened to move. The muscles in her right leg had locked up, and that pain warred with the pounding in her head.

  Emily grabbed onto the counter and pulled herself up. She slipped her engagement ring off her finger and toyed with the idea of dropping it down the drain. Instead, she placed it on the counter and walked out of the kitchen.

  J

  April 1st, San Diego, California

  “All right, guys, that’s a wrap for today,” the director said.

  Jack stepped back from the microphone and tried to extricate himself from the beautiful blonde model who played his love interest in the video Stone Highway was shooting. She wasn’t making it easy. She’d made her interest clear, but Jack just wasn’t interested.

  Dexter Watts, the band’s manager waddled over. “Okay, Shasta, time to go.”

  “Oh, come on, Jackie, let’s have some fun,” the blonde model purred into his ear as she trailed her fingertip up his arm.

  Jack tensed. He hated being called Jackie. His bandmates, Elliot, Curt, and Buzz, snickered from the side of the stage. He gave them the finger.

  Dex led Shasta to the other side of the stage and helped her down the steps. Jack grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat off his face and neck.

  “Do you think she knows her parents named her after a brand of soda?” Elliot smirked.

  Curt snorted. “Doubt it. She’s gorgeous but the attic’s empty.”

  Elliot yanked Curt’s ponytail. “Says the blond boy with cobwebs in his attic.”

  “Fuck you, Black.” Curt pulled the band off and left his hair loose.

  “Get a haircut, hippie,” Buzz said.

  Curt flipped Buzz off.

  Jack’s cell rang. It was an L.A. area code, but he didn’t recognize the number, so he let it go to voicemail. He was now that guy with two cell phones, and it pissed him off. After he broke up with Christie, he’d had to change his number because she called every time something went wrong, so pretty much every day. He’d gotten tired of having to explain to his family why he’d changed his number yet again, so Jack broke down and got another cell and only gave the new number to his immediate family, bandmates, Dex, Kevin, and his bodyguard, Jeff.

  He still cringed at the thought of having a bodyguard, but ever since he'd received that first letter at his house, Dex had been pushing him to take it seriously. Jeff had been with him for two months now, but Jack still hadn’t gotten used to having someone follow him around all the time. With their tour starting next Friday, Jack had to consider everyone else. If there was a real threat, he didn’t want anyone in harm’s way because of him.

  When the voicemail chime alerted him to a message, Jack checked it.

  “Jack, it’s Amber. I haven’t seen Christie in a few days, and I’m worried about her. She was a no-show for a modeling job, and she’s not answering her door. Call me.”

  Jack shoved the phone back in his pocket and ran his hand over the back of his neck.

  “Problem?” Buzz asked.

  Jack sighed. “That was Christie’s friend from across the hall. She missed a job and isn’t answering her door. Amber’s worried.” Jack ran a hand through his hair. Just fucking great.

  “Why is she calling you?” Elliot asked. “You guys broke up six months ago, and you’re no longer obligated to rescue her.”

  But Jack did feel obligated. They’d been together for three years, and Jack couldn’t just shut off his feelings. “Fuck.”

  Elliot shook his head and sighed. “Why fuck? This isn’t your problem. If you’re worried, call the police and have them do a wellness check.”

  “If I call the police and she has drugs in the apartment, she’ll go to jail.”

  Buzz shuffled his feet. “So, then maybe she’ll get the help she needs.”

  Jack winced. Buzz had been sober since last September.

  “I’m fine. It’s okay to talk about it in front of me,” Buzz said.

  Jack smiled. “Was I that obvious?”

  “We’ve been friends since we were four. I can read you like a book.”

  Elliot snorted. “More like a pamphlet.”

  Jack laughed. Elliot was always good for comic relief. And he was right. Christie needed to figure things out on her own. It wasn’t like he could fly to L.A. anyway; they had one more day of shooting. He’d call Amber back tomorrow after they were done for the day.

  chapter

  TWO

  Emily bolted upright in bed, her heart slamming against her rib cage. The room was pitch-black, and she was fairly certain the screaming she’d heard had come from her. The air was warm and thick, and she had a hard time breathing past the lump in her throat. The covers were tangled around her legs, she was hot and sweaty, and tears streamed down her cheeks. That bastard.

  Feeling trapped, Emily kicked the covers away from her. She needed to get out of here. The room she’d shared with Sully; the room they’d made love in. Her fingers curled until her nails dug into her palms. The room he’d screwed Tiffany in. How could he?

  She knew better than to jump out of bed but did it anyway. Stumbling, Emily caught herself on the dresser. Taking a deep breath, she followed the line of it until she reached the door. She flung it open, and a burst of fresh air billowed around her. The night-light in the bathroom cast a faint yellow glow into the hallway.

  The air in the kitchen was cooler because she’d forgotten to close the window over the sink. It was cold, but the brisk breeze helped her body temperature drop a few degrees from inferno. For several minutes, Emily stood barefoot on the cold tiled floor, waiting for her heart rate to return to normal. She closed and locked the window.

  The clock in the living room chimed twice. She flopped on the couch. Emily had cried more the last three days than she had since she was seventeen. When she wasn’t crying, she was writing scenes of ways to punish them. Her favorite involved covering their naked bodies in plaster and feeding them through a straw so they’d live trapped inside, only able to watch the world and not be part of it—forever locking Sean Sullivan and Tiffany Fake Tits in their o
wn hell.

  It was only eleven in California. She could call Vince, but then she’d have to explain why she was calling him on a Sunday night at two in the morning. Eddie and Sheryl had little kids, and Sheryl was pregnant again, so that wasn’t an option. Since she’d caught Sully and Tiffany Friday afternoon, Emily hadn’t talked to anyone, not even Nicki. But she would have to soon. She’d have to tell everyone.

  J

  Emily checked off the last item on her list and sat back on the couch. It was done. Her wedding was officially canceled. Nicki had helped her make the phone calls to the guests and pack up and return all her shower gifts. All the vendors had been sympathetic, but they’d signed a contract, and no one had offered to return her money. They would, however, put the money toward a future event if it was held within the next twelve months.

  She didn’t even have the energy to cry. Like she’d ever get married. All the old and not so old insecurities over her scars had her feeling like no one would ever be able to love her. She was damaged goods, and any man with common sense would see it a mile away and steer clear.

  Obviously, Sully hadn’t loved her. It had all been a lie.

  She’d packed his shit in boxes so she wouldn’t have to look at it and stored them in her office. Emily had no idea what he was waiting for. When he’d stopped by last week, she’d expected him to pick up the rest of his stuff, but he’d been in a hurry and just wanted the ring and the tickets for their honeymoon. Said he’d be back to get the rest of his stuff. Seeing him had hurt more than she’d expected, and she wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again. At least he’d returned the keys.

  Emily dragged herself off the couch. She’d tried to finish her manuscript, but there was no way she could write a happy ending when her life had exploded. She’d obviously been fooling herself all these years; a professional writer would’ve been able to suck it up and finish.