Page 21 of Scandal
This is the first coherent thought I have when my eyelids flutter open, and I see a spatter of chestnut hair across my chest.
The second is somewhat less honorable as my eyes drift down the length of Mercury’s sleeping form. And it’s most definitely not the kind of thing one thinks about a family member.
Christ.
I need to get out of this bed.
And I need to get this woman out of Scotland.
I turn my body toward the edge of the bed. The traitorous old mattress groans loudly, and I freeze instantly. For some reason, the thought of getting caught sneaking out of this bed feels wrong, and I can’t quite figure out why.
It’s not like I haven’t done it before.
Could it have something to do with that massive hard-on you’ve got there?
Fucking hell.
I wait a second to see if she wakes up, and when she doesn’t, I start moving again. The bed groans once more, but this timeI’m not so lucky. An arm swings over and locks across my torso. Mercury nuzzles her head into my chest and sighs deeply.
I feel deeply conflicted.
As we’ve already established, this is Hendrix’s sister and my manager’s daughter. We are the last two people who should be cuddling in a bed together.
So why does she look so damn content?
Who exactly does she think she’s cuddling with in her sleep?
Does she have a boyfriend? I’ve never thought to ask Hen. Looking down at Mercury now, I realize I don’t know much about her beyond her musical talent and random facts I’ve heard from her brothers and father.
Honestly, I wouldn’t mind having some company here for a while. I especially wouldn’t mind if it were her. Although we’ve only chatted a few times, I enjoyed every minute of it. Despite coming off a wee bit awkward at first, she’s actually quite brilliant and witty.
Fucking gorgeous too.
But I fear what she might do to my resolve if she remains.
I made my decision to leave LA. Hasty as it was, it was still the right choice. No good can come to my friends and bandmates if I stay.
It will just be one scandal after another. The paparazzi will never stop trying to uncover dirt about my personal life, no matter if it’s true or not. I tried stepping back from the spotlight. I hid away, stopped attending events, and refused interviews. But it didn’t matter. It only made them more ravenous, which is why my publicist turned on me.
And every time something like this happens, it hurts the band.
We’ve taken enough hits over the last few years.
How much more can we take before Hen’s health deteriorates or Evans’s sobriety is tested?
I can’t be the reason that happens.
So I’ve taken myself out of the equation.
The problem is, I don’t have a clue what to do with myself now. But until I figure that out, I plan to hide out here. Even though staying at this ragged old cottage annoys the hell out of my parents, they’ve allowed it and haven’t said a word to the press about my whereabouts.
Suddenly, there is a commotion outside. A car door slams shut.
“My lord!” I hear Mac exclaim, his voice just a bit louder than usual. A warning, maybe? “Perhaps you can come back later, after he’s had breakfast and prepared for the day.”
God, it really is a warning. He probably checked in with the night guard and was told I brought back company last night, and he’s jumped to the same conclusion Mercury assumed they would.
And now my father is about to walk in, and there’s nowhere to go—nowhere to hide.
