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An Affair In Paris (Fallen Angel #3.5)
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~ One tattooed drummer
What happens when two bandmates from the hottest rock band on the planet hook up with their lead singer’s (off limits) little sister?
Trouble, that’s what.
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“HALO, I PROMISE I’m fine. It’s been a long day of traveling, so I’m just gonna order room service and pass out early,” I said, as I shouldered my phone and opened the elegant French doors of my hotel suite that led out to a private balcony. A warm breeze greeted me, the smell of baked goods wafting up from the patisserie below. I took in a deep inhale and gazed out at the twinkling lights of Paris before me. The Eiffel Tower rose in the distance, a glittering jewel in the night sky, and my lips curved. “Oh, big brother, you did good. I’m not gonna want to leave.”
Halo’s rumbling laugh filtered through the phone. “Does that mean you’ve already seen the bathroom?”
Oh, please tell me there’s a massive tub. I practically ran through the suite, and as I stepped into the marble-tiled room, my eyes focused on the freestanding claw-foot tub that also had a stunning view of the city.
That’s it. I’m moving in.
“Im? Imogen? Did you faint?”
“I’ve died and gone to heaven. All I need now are bath bombs. There goes my evening.”
“Good, now I don’t feel so bad about not being there,” Halo said. “I’m not sure how much longer things are gonna take here, but I’ll stop by when we wrap up the shoot.”
“You don’t need to do that. I’ll just see you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? I hate that you’re spending your first day in Paris by yourself.”
“First night, technically. And like I said, I’m just gonna pass out, so don’t worry about me.”
Halo gave in reluctantly, and once we said our goodbyes, I went straight to my suitcase and took out a black lace minidress that clung to my curves and a pair of fiery red heels that matched my hair. A quick shower later, and I was slipping into the low-cut dress and wrapping strands of my hair around a curling wand. I may have told my rocker brother I was hitting the bed early, but there was no way I was spending my first night in Paris alone in my hotel room—no matter how luxurious the suite was. So while he was busy finishing up shooting a music video for his band Fallen Angel’s third single, I’d occupy myself by getting to know my surroundings…and all the gorgeous men I’d seen on my way here.
I ran my fingers through the ends of my hair, tousling the waves a bit, and after applying a quick coat of lip gloss, I grabbed my purse and was out the door. Where I was headed, I didn’t have a clue, but I’d seen several bars nearby on my way to the hotel, so that seemed like as good a start as any.
When I stepped off the elevator, the front desk clerks looked up and then did a double take. Quite a change from the athleisure wear a day of travel required, huh, boys? I thought, winking their way as I passed, my heels clicking against the marble floors.
I was halfway to the door when my eyes caught on a crowd of people in the hotel’s restaurant. That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but the two men they surrounded definitely were. The guys couldn’t have been more opposite—one was dark-skinned, his hair shaved close to his scalp, and was dressed as immaculately as he was every time I’d seen him. He wore a black fitted button-up, open at the collar, and I knew if he stood up, I’d see tailored dress pants and shoes so shiny you could see your own reflection. Jagger was a smooth talker, a ladies’ man if I’d ever seen one, but he’d never been anything but respectful to me… Dammit.
And then there was Slade. Every inch of skin you could see, bar his face, was covered in tattoos, and I always wondered if I’d find the same under his clothes. His head was shaved on the sides, and tonight he wore a mohawk that had been colored in alternating shades of teal and purple.
Both guys were insanely attractive—and also off-limits. Why?
Because they were in my brother’s band.
Which raised the question of why they weren’t with Halo, Viper, and Killian shooting the music video, but were instead having drinks and joking around with patrons who obviously recognized them from Fallen Angel, one of the most popular rock bands in the world. Besides being in Paris for a video shoot, they’d also be playing a couple of nights at the Stade De France – Saint Denis, their first shows on this leg of their international tour—and also the reason Halo had flown me over and put me up in a luscious suite. Like I’d miss taking advantage of my brother touring France. Please.
Jagger looked up, and when his brown eyes met mine, they flickered with surprise. Then a wide smile crossed his face and he waved me over. I didn’t miss the way his gaze traveled over my body as I headed in their direction, but he didn’t let his eyes linger, which, if I had to guess, was more a result of Halo’s threats than my minidress’s lack of effect.