her made me want to commit murder.
Of course, Mia might simply be staying true to form. She was likely hopping from Nigel’s still-warm bed straight into Devon’s. But for what? Did she honestly think that shit stain could help her continue charting? Fat chance. Slash Devil’s hadn’t made it into the top ten for over two years. If Mia bothered paying attention to the industry, she’d know that Devon’s addiction to nose candy was sending the band on a nasty downward spiral. And since history always repeated itself, it wouldn’t be long till they reached the bottom.
Still, even if Nigel had outgrown his usefulness, Mia wouldn’t have chosen to attend the Grammys without him. Sure, she was independent, uncompromising, rebellious, and sarcastic, but she was painfully shy around strangers.
With a low curse, I wedged my way through the throng of superstars and headed toward the nearest exit. But when I saw the security personnel and a few of LAPD’s finest barricading every door, I bit back a groan.
A flutter of panic at being trapped like a rat in a cage rose up inside me until I spied the men’s room. After dashing inside, I splashed some cold water on my face then dried off and locked myself inside a stall.
Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I let out a whispered curse. How the hell was I going to endure six months on the road with Mia when I couldn’t handle being near her in a room full of people?
If I had the balls to be honest with myself—which I didn’t when it came to her—I would have already accepted the fact that I missed her every fucking day…and had for seven endless years. Missed her smile, her alluring scent of wildflowers, her unconventional view of life and the world, her positive yet uncompromising attitude, her carefree laughter, and the way sappy movies made her cry. I missed the passion and love we once made, but mostly I missed the dream of sharing my life with her.
For fifteen glorious months, Mia Harris had filled all the empty corners of my heart with sublime love, happiness, and passion. But when push came to shove, Mia’s true colors had come out in a rainbow of ugly black sludge that turned everything between us to a steaming pile of shit and nearly cost me a place in Licks of Leather.
Had she finally shown Nigel her self-seeking rainbow as well? Dragging my cell from my pocket, I tapped the screen. The image of Mia and Nigel didn’t surprise me, but the accompanying headline sure as fuck did.
Gerry Huber Agency tosses Iron to the curb.
While reminding myself that Celebrity Access had been sued numerous times for its slanderous lies, I scanned the article in absolute shock. But the accompanying photo of Nigel and his agent’s wife, Electra Huber, swapping tongues and groping crotches lent a shitload of credibility to the tabloid’s claim.
I totally grasped why the Huber Agency released the poaching prick. It had to have been a low blow when Gerry discovered his wife was banging Nigel. But seriously, Gerry couldn’t have been stupid enough to think the lingerie model had married him for his old, saggy balls, flabby belly, and receding hairline.
Electra certainly wasn’t the first trophy wife or girlfriend to get caught fucking her personal trainer, pool boy, plastic surgeon, rock star, or some slimy, smooth-talking wannabe agent.
Biting back a fierce growl, I closed my eyes, sucked in several deep breaths, and slammed the lid down tight on the past.
If my math was right, Nigel had been cheating on Mia since day one. If he and Electra had shared a torrid affair for the past six years, as the article claimed, why had the prick even hooked up with Mia in the first place?
Fuck.
Though Mia was reaping a helping of Karma, a sliver of sympathy wended through me. News of Nigel’s affair couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time. She had to be crushed, pissed, and beyond embarrassed. But I had to give the strong-willed beauty kudos. Instead of shying away or hiding to lick her wounds, she’d slapped on a smile and bravely stepped into the crosshairs of the same vultures who’d outed her lover.
The woman had balls, big ones, much bigger than mine.
On the other hand, maybe Nigel’s betrayal had been timed perfectly. What better way for Mia to clean house than tip off the press herself? She was more than capable of that level of deceit. Especially if it