She looked up at him, speechless. "I—I’m s-sorry." Her other hand shaking, she pointed a finger toward me. "She started it."

Those dark eyes shifted to me and pierced me with a searing gaze. "You," he said, his voice rough yet velvety.

It was one thing imagining him, but it was a whole different thing being in his presence. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than me but he carried himself with an air of authority befitting someone much older. Someone world-experienced. Scarred, but not jaded. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

I’d met my fair share of hot guys, but I’d never met one hot enough to unsettle my composure. This Adonis in leather pants was proving to be the exception.

His sharply angled brows raised slightly. "How did you get back here? I was about to tell the guard to let you in."

I tried my best to keep my voice steady. "I, uh, picked the lock."

His gaze intensified. I suddenly felt exposed and naked before him. Vulnerable. As if he had direct access to my innermost private thoughts. Could he see his effect on me?

I thought I’d be crushed beneath the weight of that stare, but a hint of a smile touched the corners of his lips. "Interesting. You like getting into trouble, don’t you?"

I wasn’t sure whether he was referring to my lockpicking skills or my life in general."Only the good kind," I said, trying my damnedest to steel myself against his allure. "I didn’t start the trouble back here though."

His smile faded, and he turned his attention back to Tiffany—who was probably on the verge of wetting herself in more ways than one. He dipped his nose close to her ear and sniffed her neck like a predator assessing the fear in its prey.

She closed her eyes and released a faint noise that sounded like something between a moan and a yelp.

"You lied to me," he growled.

Her eyes widened. A look of terror flashed across her face. "I—I . . ."

"That’s strike one," he warned, his tone wielding a dangerous edge. He released his hold on Tiffany and her arm hung limply by her side. He looked at me again and narrowed his brows. "You’re not hurt, are you?"

The deep concern in his voice caught me off guard. "Um . . . nope."

Other than almost getting punched and stabbed during your show and now almost getting bitch-slapped. . . no, of course not.

His eyebrows remained furrowed. "You sure? Your clothes are ripped. And you’re not wearing shoes."

His left brow had a diagonal slash across the middle. The scar only added to his mysterious allure, and I briefly wondered how he got it. Maybe he was a fighter that moonlighted as a rocker. Judging by the conditioning of his body, I could imagine him throwing punches in a boxing ring or grappling in a cage or even riding bare-chested on a steed with a sword in his hand. He certainly had the hair for the latter—his dark locks could probably make the heroes on the covers of my mom’s old romance books jealous. I could also see him in my bed wrestling me beneath the sheets—both of us, hot, sweaty, and naked.

"Yeah . . . it’s kind of a long story. I could tell you in private, though."

I gave him a suggestive smile and winked, hoping he’d take the cue to dismiss the other girls. He grinned back. But there was a twinkle in his dark brown eyes that made me wonder what was going through his mind. "I’d like to hear it. Come inside." He gestured to the green room behind him. "I’ll be there after I handle this."

Tiffany and Amanda watched me, their jaws nearly on the floor. I flashed a smile at the twins, returning the smugness they’d given me. Then I went inside.

It was called a "green room", but a quick scan revealed there wasn’t a single green item in the space except for a fake potted tree that was as tall as me. The walls were a lush crimson, while the hardwood floor was covered with a soft Persian carpet. There was a full-length mirror at the back next to a bathroom, a comfortable-looking tan leather couch to the side, and various food and drinks on a rolling cart next to the armrest. I’d been expecting instruments, clothes, makeup, and drug paraphernalia scattered about the space, but this resembled a classy hotel room.

Given how the bar had looked, this room was completely out of place. I guess they really pampered their performers.

I started feeling excited—almost giddy—at the thought of the Siren. I’d be tapping that soon. It’d been a while since I last got laid. And I was eager to break the dry spell.

Examining myself in the mirror, I heard footsteps then the door closing.

I pivoted on the balls of my feet, enthusiastic. "So glad you got rid of those—" I saw the Siren enter with each of the twins at his side. His hands were at the small of their backs, guiding them inside. My neck jerked. "Uh, what’s going on?"

He smiled at me. "Line up. I want a good look at each of you."

"Huh?" Confusion swept over me. Did I miss something?

"You heard him," Tiffany chimed as she lined up on my left, while Amanda stood to my right, leaving me sandwiched between them.

The rock god stood in front of us, assessing. I could feel his gaze gliding over my profile. He casually shifted his attention between me and Tiffany, then me and Amanda. A nauseous feeling swirled in my belly. Was he seriously comparing us? No way . . . He chose me from the crowd to meet him backstage while these girls were just groupies . . .

A nervous sweat began to break out on my skin. A million thoughts and concerns raced through my mind. Equally anxious and offended, I found myself becoming self-conscious. How could I possibly stack up to the Barbie twins? They’d probably had enough work done to buy some plastic surgeon a summer house in the Hamptons. All I had was a torn-up dress and some scented body wash.

"Relax," the rock god purred darkly to me. "You’re squirming." His voice flowed over me, filling me with a restless energy that only stoked my irritation.

When I saw the knowing smile on his face, an awful thought hit me. I wasn’t the only one he chose. The twins had probably been told to come "backstage in twenty minutes" just like I had, so he could have the privilege of comparing us and choosing the best.

I’d been played.

My face burned. A wave of disgust and embarrassment washed over me for being made an unwitting participant in this perverse beauty contest. I was way too old to fall for this shit, but I’d wanted so badly to believe I was special. I’d called myself a "self-respecting girl deciding to hook up," but from where I was standing right now, the "self-respecting" part seemed like a lie.

Gah! I always fall for jerks. I needed to return to Jen and apologize for lying to her and bolting. If I walked away now, I could at least salvage what was left of my dignity.

I threw my hands up. "Alright, f**k this. I’m leav—"

"You." He pointed at Tiffany. "And you," he said, pointing at Amanda. "Leave." He gestured to the door. He turned his gaze to me and pointed a daunting finger in my direction. "You. Stay."

I halted mid-step, speechless.

"Wait, we’ll do anything you want!" Tiffany and Amanda both pleaded in unison. "Both of us. Use us. We’ll let you stick it anywhere! Please!"

"You’re not what I want." He was speaking to the twins but his eyes never left mine.