At last, the door to the suite swung open, and Ritual Disruption piled in, their groupies swarming around them like ants. I excused myself from the conversation, and headed toward the door.
I saw Andy and Vincent, but where was Oliver? Standing on my tiptoes, I craned my neck, trying to spot his tousled-blond hair, but I couldn’t find him over the steady stream of men and women coming into the room. “Better Strangers” by Royal Blood was blasting through the speakers, its angry riff only adding to the chaos.
I forced myself to keep moving toward the door, despite the discomfort I was already starting to feel. Oh God, the room was getting packed. People were laughing and shouting, bumping against my shoulders and pushing against me. I was a little fish trying to swim upstream, and all I could think about was that goddamn Christmas market when I thought I’d be swallowed up by the crowd. I was so little, and all the strangers had towered above me, their mulled wine spilling over the edges of their mugs and their cheeks rosy with the cold. No one had looked down to where I was. If I tripped and fell, they’d walk right over me, and I’d be crushed into the ground.
A hand gripped my wrist.
Oliver.
I let him lead me, like I always did, trusting him to get me out of here. I kept my eyes on my shoes to make sure I wouldn’t stumble. They glistened with something sticky—someone must have spilled their drink on them. Suddenly, the noise level dropped, and I saw that we’d made it to the hall.
“Thank—” My voice cut off abruptly when I finally looked at whose fingers were still wrapped around my wrist. It wasn’t Oliver.
Jamie studied me with his piercing gray eyes, his face furrowed in concern. He wore a white T-shirt and a pair of leather pants that clung to his legs. Shocked, I stumbled back, pulling myself out of his grip.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, my pulse racing in the wrist he’d just held. “Why did you take me outside?”
He shifted on his feet. “You didn’t look okay. I thought you needed some air.”
God, his voice was disarming. I took a deep breath, trying to process the fact that Jamie had come to my rescue. I didn’t want him doing me any favors, but I couldn’t deny that I’d needed someone to get me out of that room.
“I just don’t love crowds. Or packed places,” I admitted, dropping my gaze to the ground. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He didn’t move.
“Well, don’t let me keep you out here,” I said, glancing back to him.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Oliver.”
The gratitude I’d felt evaporated in half a second. “I told you to stay out of my life,” I said through clenched teeth. “You said something to him after you walked in on us, didn’t you? Because of you, I’ve barely seen him for the past few days. What did you do?”
“You don’t know what kind of a person he really is,” Jamie said, dropping his voice.
“Let me guess, you’re going to tell me? Why would I believe a wordyousay?”
For a moment, he seemed taken aback, as if my words had hurt him somehow. This didn’t make any sense. I didn’t think Jamie was stupid. Surely he knew how others perceived him?
“Well? Are you going to answer me or not?” I demanded, narrowing my eyes.
The singer frowned. “I might have my own issues, but I’m not lying about this. I only want to help you.”
“Why?”
“Because what he’s doing is wrong,” Jamie said, taking a step closer. “Oliver enjoys manipulating people. When he gets what he wants from you, you’ll just be another damaged thing he leaves behind. I’ve seen it happen over and over, with groupies and other women he meets on tour, but it’s even worse with you, because you’re here for two weeks. Whatever he’s told you about his feelings, it’s all a game for him.”
A chill ran down my spine. He was lying. He had to be. “You really expect me to believe that? You must think I’m an idiot.”
“I don’t,” he insisted, his brows pulling together. “Listen to me. He’s dangerous.”
“That’s rich.” I laughed, but it sounded like a snarl. “He wasn’t the one who came on to me in a dressing room.”
Jamie’s face twisted in a grimace. “I’m—”
“Ivy!”
