Chapter 3 Rise of a God 3

Dion

Tracking down Gavin and talking him out of telling everyone what he had just seen took longer than I expected. By the time I finally turned towards the ballroom where the rest of the band had already found their seats, I was one of the few stragglers left in the lobby.

The infamous Wesley Gunner sidled up to me the moment Gavin disappeared through the doors.

“Trouble?”

I didn’t answer him at first, and then I chuckled. “It’s Gavin, so…” Shrugging my shoulders, I forced myself to remain calm. Gavin had given me his word that he wouldn’t mention anything to anyone. But I knew sooner or later it would come out. Gavin wasn’t a man to be trusted. Not in business, and especially not when it came to my personal life.

“So, yeah.” Wes’ laughter joined mine as we pushed our way into the ballroom. It was a massive space, complete with a glistening chandelier. For a second, I let my eyes wander round the room. Even full of tables like it was, it's ridiculously enormous. And grand. Not a modern type of grandeur either - ballgowns and powdered wigs wouldn’t look out of place in the legendary Queen’s Ballroom.

“Shit, this place is….” I struggled for the words, rubbing my fingers over my chin. I rarely feel intimidated by anything, but this place? This place made me feel out of place. Like I was a kid playing at being important.

“Over the fucking top? Yeah.” My companion shook his head. “Not really my scene, either. Give me a strip club and a beer any day.”

I nodded my head in agreement. “I’m over there, so I’ll guess I’ll see you later.”

“Probably at a strip club, right?”

“Most definitely.” Although the only woman I could think about getting naked was Lola, I couldn’t exactly admit that. She would look amazing swinging naked around a pole, but only if I was the only one looking at her.

“Hey.” Weaving my way through the tables, I slipped into the only vacant seat on our table. The one between Isla and Lola. Neither woman looked at me. Isla because she was still pissed with me, and Lola probably because she was embarrassed. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing much.” Tate leaned across the table. “The night is still young. Where were you, anyway?”

“Had to talk to Gavin.” I shrugged his question away, but I could feel his eyes on me. Tate looked from me to Lola, who was fidgeting, and I could almost hear the cogs turning in his head. He suspected, even if he didn't know for sure that something had happened between us.

“Why?” Isla's voice was sharp.

“Because I wanted to,” I snapped before I could help myself. “Can we not do this tonight, Isla? Please. Tomorrow we can argue to your heart’s fucking content. Just not tonight. I’m sick to my back teeth fighting with you.” That was the truth.

Isla was a stunning woman, with looks more like a supermodel than a drummer in a rock band, but there was a cold hardness in her that was grating on me. There had never been anything sweet about Isla. She’d always been gloss, glam, mile high stiletto boots and hardness. It was why she had lasted so long in the band. No other woman would have been able to deal with our shit. In a way, we had made her what she was. The ice queen. Because she hadn’t been like that in college when we had first started Dionysus Rising. Ten years of putting up with our shit had hardened her. 

She wasn’t sweet like Lola.

Without thinking, I brought my hand up, sliding it up and over Lola’s knee. I squeezed softly. No, Isla wasn’t like Lola. They were polar opposites. Most men might have killed their own mother for one night with Isla, but not me. I had been there and done that.

What I needed in my life was more sweetness.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Lola’s reaction as my hands crawled higher, taking the satin of her dress with me. I was pushing my luck. I knew it. I just couldn’t help myself. Lola didn’t say a word, but her glossy mouth fell open in a sigh when the tips of my fingers brushed against the apex of her thighs. It was a featherlight touch, one hindered by material, but she reacted the way I wanted her to. Her pretty lips parted, eyelashes fluttering.

“Everything ok, Lola?” Louis asked, his voice anxious with worry. I knew he couldn't see what I was doing to her. The tablecloth hid everything. And if he had any suspicions, we would not have been sitting like civilised people. I pressed my fingers more firmly against Lola. I want to see if she would cry out. A perverse part of me kind of wanted her to cry out.

“Yeah.” Lola squirmed against my fingers, lifting her ass from the chair, but she didn't push my hand away. Her fingers closed around my wrist, holding me to her. And I couldn’t even try to hide my smile. “I’m just feeling a little flushed from all the cocktails, and it's hot in here.” She fanned herself theatrically, and my grin widened. “Is it ok if I grab some air quickly? I’m not going to miss your category, am I?”

“No, that’s not for a while yet. You want me to come with you?” Louis leaned over her, worry making his features tight. And he had every reason to be worried. Because I was about to break every bro code we had.

Lola shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. I just need to catch my breath.” She threw a look at me. It’s a look full of promise. The kind of look that made me wonder whether I had her all wrong from the beginning, because I was pretty sure she was daring me to go after her.

Maybe Lola wasn’t as sweet and innocent as I had presumed. Moving my hand from between her thighs, I sucked two fingers into my mouth. Two fingers that I’d just had pressed against her. They weren’t wet, but I could smell her on them.

I whistled loudly, showing my appreciation to the band on stage. My eyes roamed everywhere but at Lola’s retreating back. One table across (-) lifted his eyebrow in amusement, shaking his head. I grinned back at him.

Maybe I hadn’t been as discreet about rubbing Lola as I had thought. Not that anyone on my own table had noticed.

I’m not even sure I cared if they did.

“I need to piss.” I stood up so abruptly that my chair almost fell backwards. No one even turned to look at me. They were all so engrossed in the show. Like I should have been. No one suspected me as I slid out. And why should they? They trusted me to behave.

It’s like they didn’t know me at all.