Unbearable

By Amity Cross

Sasha Montgomery has everything she ever wanted.
She's managing one of the hottest rock bands of the moment, gets paid to travel the world, hangs around hot musicians all day...
She's got everything she ever dreamed of...except Mick Savage.
Mick is the lead guitarist from bad boy rock 'n' roll outfit Affliction, and she's got one hell of a crush on him.
For three and a half years Sasha has watched him look at everyone but her. Miserable and shy, the only thing she has to turn to is her work. It was fine when she was just the stage manager - she could deal with that. Now she's the manager and has to deal with him on a daily basis. Face-to-face. As if her heart couldn't get any more broken.
Mick hasn't looked at her twice. He hasn't spoken to her outside of band business. He hasn't seen her as anything but Affliction's manager. Watching him from the sidelines is unbearable, but when he finally realises what her feelings are...everything is going to change.
And it might just be for the worse.

UNBEARABLE tells the ultimate story of unrequited love...until the tables turn.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nicole R. Taylor
• Release date: Jun 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311352439

Amity Cross

Find out more about Amity and her books by visiting:https://www.amitycrosswrites.com

Book preview

One

Sasha

No one ever told me that dreams came with nightmares.

Los Angeles International Airport, or LAX, was my current waking terror. It was a pure, absolute, fucking terrifying example of human nature. Want to see all the assholes in the world being assholey? Stand in the arrivals hall for a few hours…then you've seen it all.

Glancing at the clock on my phone for the one-hundredth time in the past hour, only a minute had passed. I'd looked at the stupid fucking thing so many times the battery had dipped to fifteen percent. The thing was welded to my hand, which meant I was on the highway to the danger zone. I was the manager of the hot as fuck rock 'n' roll band, Affliction, and if I wasn't in contact twenty four seven, then I was in the shit. Sasha Montgomery, at your service. How do you like it? From behind or on your knees?

Seriously, what the fuck was I doing at LAX when I could've just sent a driver? Oh yeah, that's because the lead guitarist was a knob jockey who couldn't get from point A to point B without getting his dick trapped in something on the way. Like a fifteen year old, he needed a fucking chaperone and there was nobody I could trust but myself.

Mick Savage was sex personified. Tall, muscled, tattooed, talented with his fingers in more ways than playing a guitar, seriously swoon-worthy come fuck me eyes all wrapped up into one bad boy, smart-mouthed package. There was a reason anything with tits and a vagina wanted to rub against him. He'd just give his choice for the night a look and then you'd see the poor woman slinking through the hotel a few hours later, all teary and pissed that they'd been kicked out. Like they'd be the one that stuck. Nobody had ever stuck.

Mick was a total douche to women, but it didn't stop that thing inside me that fizzed and misfired in my brain every time I was around the guy. I'd had a crush on him ever since I started as Affliction's stage manger three and a half years ago. I didn't expect it, but who ever does? Sometimes these things grow over time, sometimes it's just bam and you're done. I was so fucking done.

I took the stage gig as a way to stick my foot in the preverbal door. I wanted to manage. Not the pissy shit I'd been doing, telling roadies and venue crew what to do…anyone with a pair could do that. I wanted to be the head honcho. I wanted to do the juicy stuff. I wanted to be the brains of the operation. Then one day, out of the blue, I got my chance.

On the last tour the previous manger, Dean Furlough, was fired for gambling with the life of Jake West. West was the front man and all round bad boy with addiction problems, typical rock star stuff. I'd been asleep when my door was almost beat down by Joe Fox, bass player and one of the only decent guys that seemed to be left in the business. They were in a tight spot and needed my help and I was more than willing to give it.

Seven months later and I was still managing them. Seven months and the label still hadn't told me to fuck off, but the band had been on hiatus for half that time. I got them through the media shit storm in London. I got them through a whole single release with zero notice and minimal experience. I was good. I had to keep going above and beyond and hopefully when the label bosses turned around, the decision would be an epic no-brainer. I'd sign the contract in less than a beat.

The only problem with that scenario was Mick Savage. Working on the sidelines, I could deal with his inability to see me as nothing but the help. I could deal with staving off my crippling crush on the guy with a bit of separation. It was fine when I had something to concentrate my frustrations on. Getting West through the months after Furlough's deception, helping him with his campaign to win over Blair...those were things I could sink my teeth into. Now, there was just regular old band business. Organizing recording time at the studio in LA. Liaising with the hotel and organizing security. Picking up the douche canoe of a lead guitarist from the airport. Now I had to have up close and personal time with him…every fucking day. I had to stand by and watch him look at every woman but me. I had to stand around and feel inadequate. In-fucking-visible.

He was just a guy. He was just a guy.

I tried to make it go away, this stupid crush, but it never did. To live my dream, I had to sacrifice my heart. I had to let it get stomped on every single day. I had to keep it a secret, or I'd just get tossed like the rest.

And most importantly, I had to stay in control.

Mick's flight had landed an hour ago and it definitely did not take that long to go through passport control. I wondered what poor girl would get chucked out this time.

When I finally set eyes on the jerk, just as I expected, he had his arm slung over the shoulders of a woman. Some pretty thing with long stick straight hair, artificial tits, a caked layer of makeup, an almost-orange tan and all I could think about was the Oompa Loompas from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I rolled my eyes as he spotted me in the crowd and he dropped his arm from the woman's shoulders and came to meet me.

Montgomery, he said. I get a personalized chauffeur service now?

The Oompa Loompa looked me up and down with a sneer and once she seemed satisfied I wasn't competition, her lips curled into a vapid smile.

No plus ones, I snapped, glaring right back.

Bitch, the woman replied, flicking her hair over a shoulder.

Without even glancing at her, Mick grabbed the handle of his suitcase and walked off toward the exit. Total douche move, but since she seemed extremely fake and easy, I kind of felt satisfied.

Hey, she called out, pouting like a five year old.

Following Mick, I couldn't help the smile spreading across my face. That was a dismissal, I threw back at her.

I never knew you had so much bite in you, he said as we walked through the exit and out into the sunshine.

I gestured to the driver who'd been arguing with a parking cop for lingering too long in the pick up zone. No points of guessing whose fault that was. Get in the car, Savage.

The driver took his suitcase and loaded it in while we got in the back of the town car. It was bad enough that there was a partition between us at the front, let alone the fact that we'd be inches apart. Isolation and my current mood didn't bode well for society.

I got in behind Mick and slammed the door closed. He was watching me in that infuriatingly sexy way of his as I clicked my seatbelt in place.

What's up your ass? I just got here.

You're up my ass, I hissed. You can't go five seconds- I bit my lip and glanced out the window as the car pulled away from the curb.

Whatever, he drawled. What's with the personalized pick up?

I put my sunglasses on so he couldn't see the hurt brimming in my eyes. You seriously have to ask?

He shrugged.

You fucked the Oompa Loompa?

He shrugged again, his sexy fucking lips curving into a grin.

On the plane? Or was it afterward in some dirty bathroom? I wanted to bitch slap him into eternity.

He rolled his eyes. What, are you my Mum now?

Dickhead, I spat. You're a twenty-seven year old child. Maybe I should call your mother to slap some sense into you.

What's your deal? I don't remember you being such a downer, Montgomery.

I bit my lip so hard I swore I tasted blood. How could he fucking remember how I used to be when he never saw me before? There was no