Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
“Professional boxer,” Joana abruptly says. “Before you go tie a cape around your neck.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were. You have the look. Believe me. I see it all the time.” She takes a casual sip of wine. “So what’s your deal exactly? Born in Quincy, Mass. Graduated from Berklee. Trying to make it big in New York.”
“You watched my interviews,” I realize.
“You’ve been all over my social media algorithm lately.”
“Mine too,” Harriet chimes in. “I can’t scroll without seeing Tom sing portions of ‘Dirty Rise’ to you.”
I feel my lips lift.
Joana sees my smile and nearly chokes on a sip of wine. “Are the rumors true? The ones about you and Tom?” Off my stiff posture, she adds fast, “Oh, don’t worry—I signed an NDA years ago. Been on trips with my brother and the Cobalts. I am an iron fortress of secrets.”
I just met this girl, but Harriet seems to trust her. And I’m sure if she talked to press about the Cobalts, it’d put her brother’s job in hot water.
Joana hands me a glass of wine. “You don’t have to say anything,” she assures. “You can remain Tom Cobalt’s drummer.”
“And his boyfriend,” I say. “I’m also his boyfriend.”
Harriet drops the cookie sheet. Potatoes roll along the floor. “Fuck. Sorry.”
Joana and I bend down to save them from collecting dust.
“His boyfriend?” Harriet’s eyes bug out at me while I’m squatting near her. “When did this happen?”
“On the plane here. Less than twenty-four hours ago.”
Her eyes go even bigger. “I never thought he’d actually go through with it. He’s so obsessed with The Carraways—I didn’t think he’d let anything get in the way of it. Not that you’re in the way. You are the band too.”
“I thought the same thing,” I tell her.
Her eyes soften on me, then she grimaces. “I’m supposed to hate this. He is my nemesis.”
I give her a look. “In a PG-rated, after-school-special way. Sure.”
Her lips inch into a smile. “I’m happy you’re happy.”
I like that she can tell I am. “Thanks. We’re still planning to keep this all under wraps from the public.” I’m mostly telling Joana, since I’m positive Harriet won’t talk to anyone about the Cobalts.
“Lips are sealed,” Joana confirms.
We collect all the scattered potatoes, and Joana removes chicken from the freezer. After defrosting it in the microwave and dumping cayenne on it, she sticks it in the oven. She apologizes for the bland food, telling me she’s on the Paleo diet while she’s cutting weight.
I honestly don’t care what we eat as long as it won’t make me hug a toilet later tonight. “You call cayenne bland?” I ask.
“It’s no molho picante. Brazilian hot sauce,” she clarifies. “Which I can’t eat. Too much sugar. I’m basically at my max with this wine.” She huffs out a disappointed breath. “Are you okay with spicy?”
I arch my brows. “It’s a little late now.”
“Yeah, so we might not kill you tonight”—Jo dries her hands—“but we didn’t promise no heartburn.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You need a Tums?” Harriet asks seriously.
“I’m good,” I say. “I can rock with some spice.”
Joana says I have to try her hot sauce collection then. “My big brother is a wuss and hates anything hotter than a poblano pepper.” She raids the pantry. “If it weren’t for his husband, these would be sadly rotting away.”
I frown. “Oscar is gay?”
“Bi.” She carries an armful of hot sauces to the counter. “He’s mentioned you a few times. He said Charlie and Beckett have been hard on you, but he didn’t give details.”
“They’re just protective of Tom,” I say. “I get it.”
“As a big brother?”
“Yeah. As a big brother.”
While the three of us wait for food, we bring the wine, a plate of cheese, and Club crackers to the couch.
Joana folds her feet under her ass on the couch cushion, and we start talking about the Cobalts’ secretive Wednesday Night Dinners. “I bet it’s just like any other run-of-the-mill family dinner,” Joana says. “They just love having something no one else is invited to.”
I wash down a cube of gouda. “Tom gets so upset when I call it a tea party that I think it must be just that. A fucking tea party.”
“I used to think animal sacrifice,” Harriet says. “But there’s no way they’d kill a goat in front of Ben. He’d never attend.”
Joana pops a grape in her mouth and motions a finger at me and Harriet. “We really should have you two checked out for brain lesions.”
I fill up my empty glass of wine. “Why?”
“You’re dating a Cobalt. You have to be a little…” She see-saws her hand. “They’re self-centered, cocky, talentless assholes.”
“Wow, which one fucked you up?”
Joana and Harriet share an indecipherable look. I’m more rigid, and I work my jaw. I’m just hoping it’s not Eliot. He’s the major playboy, and I could see him sleeping with a girl down the hall and causing messy fucking feelings.