101 Ways To Tame A Rockstar

00| INTRODUCTION ☆

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My eyes snapped open to a ceiling I couldn't recognize.

Big shocker there.

For a second, my brain scrambled to figure out where I was. Hotel? Fan's apartment? Another penthouse I didn't own but definitely paid for? My gaze suddenly drifted down and--

I was naked.

It wasn't the first time it'd happened . Or the second.....Or the hundredth.

Whatever

I groaned loudly, rolling over to grab my phone off the bedside table. The screen lit up with an avalanche of missed calls from micheal. I Didn't even have to squint at the time to know I was a running late to one of the biggest events of the year.

Micheal:
Concert's In One hour. If you're late again I swr ill--

I shoved the phone into the sheets with a hiss. I didn't need to read the whole damn message to know I was dead if I showed up late...... Again.

Just.. perfect.

Michael was going to combust, and Mark Zander-- big daddy Wander himself, might actually murder me this time and then book a replacement by lunch.

I flung the covers off and dragged myself to my feet. My head still felt foggy and my limbs were a tad too heavy---causing me to drag my feet while I tried to make my way around. Too much vodka? Not enough?

Fuck, I was a mess.

I needed pants or atleast a fucking shirt. I'd settle for anything that didn't scream morning after regret.

I eventually found my jeans draped over a chair I could've sworn was calling my name-- but fortunately for micheal's sanity I chose to resist.

Boots next to the mini bar and shirt hanging from-- was that a chandelier? Christ, Jace.

I was hopping into my jeans when a lazy voice curled around my ears, honeyed and lethal in equal measure.

"Leaving without saying goodbye? That's cold, even for you, Jace."

I froze in place, jaw tightening as I whipped around towards the direction of the voice.

And there he was, all sprawled up on the bed with a satisfied grin and lazy bed eyes.

Lucien.

Of fucking course.

I was wondering who I fucked this time.

And true to form, he was propped up against the headboard, sheet barely covering the sharp lines of his hips, and hair tousled like he owned the word sin.

I turned away from him with an eye roll, refusing to look at him while I wrestled on my boots.

"Shut up, Lucien," I muttered, voice raw from bad sleep and one too many cigarettes.

Lucien chuckled in response. It rumbled softly in his chest, warm and confident, carrying more meaning than sound. Less laughter and more like quiet amusement.

The kind that suggested he was already two steps ahead.

It made my bones want things my heart could never survive.

"Always so cruel, rockstar. You break my heart every time."

I shot him a glare over my shoulder. "And yet, you keep crawling back."

He tilted his head, all soft mockery and bedroom eyes. "Maybe I like the pain" he said, eyes trailing over me with hunger before continuing with a smirk.