“In whether or not I’m going to become one of those jealous girlfriends?” Up until now, I’ve managed to pretty much stay off the press’s radar. A few photos of us have surfaced but the major magazines haven’t really picked them up yet.

His expression turns serious. “Yeah, I guess I do worry about that. I’ve seen friends in the business whose relationships break up over that kind of jealousy and I don’t want that to happen to us.”

I consider what he’s said and then answer him as honestly as I can. “Groupies don’t faze me too much; I know they are always going to be there, but I also believe you when you say you’re mine so unless that changes, I don’t see us having a problem.”

“Thank fuck,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine.

The moment is intense; it’s like he needed to hear that, and it seems like I’ve helped lift a weight from his shoulders.

His gaze finally shifts when the waitress brings our drinks. She’s a different waitress and clearly recognises Jett because she gets all flustered and spills his drink all over him and the table. When she scurries off to get a cloth to clean up the mess, he grins at me and murmurs, “I bet she’s one of the million women around the world who would kill to have me losing my shit over a guy talking to her.”

I roll my eyes but have to laugh because I can’t hide it; his cockiness not only amuses me, it also turns me way the hell on.

It’s been just over twenty-four hours since Presley arrived, and after a day off with her yesterday and a night out with everyone last night, I’m ready to face this interview today. Tom’s assured us it will be a friendly interview but I’m not holding my breath. We were all over the news again yesterday due to the woman who cried rape, crying again to the media. Everyone wants a piece of you in this industry, so I’m sure the interview will hold many opportunities for us to get screwed over.

“You good?” Presley asks as we walk into the hotel room for the interview.

My arm is around her shoulders and I stop her and put both arms around her. Kissing her and winking, I say, “Yeah, I’m good. I promise I’ll behave.”

“I’m always worried when you say you’ll behave; it kind of implies there was a possibility you weren’t going to.”

God, she makes me feel good. Laughing, I tease her, “Well, with you in the room, anything’s a possibility.”

“Wait, you want me in here while you do the interview? I thought I’d wait outside.”

“Hell no, I want you in here where I can see you. You calm me and I need to be calmed at the moment.”

She places her palm against my cheek and gives me one of her soft looks that tells me how much she cares for me; it’s the kind of look I would pay good money to get from her. “I’m not going anywhere then,” she says softly.

I turn to see Tom motioning for me to join him. “Go, I’ll be over in the corner watching,” Presley says, and I watch her go before heading over to where Tom is.

He’s not happy. “The photographer bailed on us,” he informs me in a pissed off tone. “Apparently, she decided she isn’t a huge fan of yours and didn’t want anything to do with this interview.”

Fuck, no wonder he’s so pissed off. I rub the back of my neck as I feel the beginning of a headache coming on. “So, no one else can do it?”

“I’m trying to find someone but it’s such late notice I don’t think we’re going to have any luck.”

West and Van join us, and when they hear the news, Van yells out a rather loud, “Fuck!” and grabs the attention of pretty much everyone in the room, including Presley who gives me a questioning look.

I jog over to her and give her the news. “The photographer bailed on us because she doesn’t like me.”

“That’s so unprofessional! Is Tom finding someone else?”

“I don’t think so. It’s such late notice.”

She stands up and looks around the room for a moment before looking back at me. “I’ll do it.”

Her voice is more forceful and I detect a tone of annoyance in it. “I said, I’ll do it. I’ll photograph you guys. I can’t actually believe the photographer cancelled on you.”

“Have you got your equipment with you?”

“I’ve got a camera on me. It might not be what I’d prefer to use, but it will do the job,” she says as she begins to walk towards Tom.

It hadn’t occurred to me to ask her to do it, but I’m on board with the idea.

“I’ll photograph the band,” Presley says to Tom who stares at her in surprise but quickly catches on and grins.

“Perfect, not sure why I didn’t fucking think of it,” he says, the grin growing larger on his face.

She turns to me and lets me know she’ll be back once she has her camera. Once she’s gone, I look at the guys and they all grin at me. “Fuck the people who try to keep us down,” West declares while raising his middle finger.

I laugh. This whole fucking situation sucks, but we’ll ride out the storm together.

Presley does a kick-ass job of photographing us. I’m so fucking turned on watching her work and take charge of us that I’m hoping like hell she eventually decides to take us on as a client and come on tour with us.