New Year's Faye (EBOOK)

Faye

I smoothed down my red dress for the hundredth time, scanning the packed venue from my position in the wings of the stage. The Wild Ones had the crowd eating from their hands—as if there'd been any doubt. Energy pulsed through the room like a living beast, tingling your skin and making your heart race, whipping the crowd into a frenzy as the clock counted down to the new year. 

Chars, the heart of Astipia, transformed for New Year’s Eve. The stage was set up right in front of the Palace, with glittering high-rises and historic brick buildings looming around us like silent witnesses, their windows glowing faintly in the winter night. It had that familiar, exhilarating bustle you might find in London, where history and modernity collided in a rush of light and energy.

Overhead, strings of lights crisscrossed the streets, hanging from lampposts and building facades, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow that contrasted sharply with the icy breeze. Snow had dusted the city earlier, and now remnants clung stubbornly to the sidewalks, crunching into slush underfoot. The winter air held a sharpness that seeped through even the thickest coat, but no one seemed to mind. Not tonight. Tonight, the cold was just part of the magic.

The Wild Ones owned the stage, each of them seeming larger than life against the vast, glittering city backdrop. The crowd was a living, breathing mass, bundled in coats, scarves, and hats, but still moving, swaying, reaching toward the band as if trying to grab onto the last notes of the song that throbbed through the speakers. The energy was palpable, a crackling, pulsing force that made my skin tingle and my heart race, the crowd feral as the clock counted down to midnight.

Nine minutes and thirteen seconds to go. 

Justice’s voice rose and fell with the perfect blend of raw edge and polished charm, like he knew exactly which notes would crawl under your skin and stay there. The opening chords of the band’s newest single, Midnight Kiss, echoed through the arena, making every heartbeat in the crowd sync with the pulsing bass. The irony of the song's title wasn’t lost on me—especially not as I stood in the shadows at the edge of the stage, watching Justice work his magic. A dozen women in the front row were utterly transfixed, eyes wide, mouths parted, leaning toward him as though he might pull them into his orbit with a single glance.

Each one looked like they were desperate to be his midnight kiss. 

He looked every bit the rockstar tonight, the soft glow of the stage lights casting shadows along the sharp angles of his face. His black suit clung to him, tailored perfectly to his lean frame, though he’d discarded his jacket halfway through the set, tossing it into the sea of hands reaching for him. His dark dress shirt was unbuttoned just enough to hint at the tattoos peeking out from beneath. 

Radley caught my eye from behind her drum kit, as she launched into a solo that was as fierce and unpredictable as she was. She tossed me a wink, her curls—once neatly arranged—now wild and untamed, framing her face as she poured herself into each beat. Her body moved with the music, like she and the drums were one entity, driving the energy in the room higher and higher.

And then there was Felix. The red-haired bassist played his guitar with the smoothness of a man twice his age. His bass lines slithered through the air, low and seductive, a current beneath the melody that you could feel in your bones. The steady, deep hum of the bass wrapped around the audience until they weren’t just listening to the music—they were part of it, lost somewhere between the thrill of the performance and the ache of watching someone you can’t quite reach.

But it was Sam who drew my gaze like a magnet. 

He moved across the stage like he was born to be there, each step and gesture effortless yet purposeful, his fingers dancing over the guitar strings with a feverish intensity. His hands moved so fast, it was as if they were possessed by some otherworldly force, channelling something raw and electric with each note. His bow tie, once neat at the start of the show, now hung loosely around his neck, a forgotten relic of formality in the heat of his performance. The collar of his crisp white dress shirt lay open just enough to reveal a hint of the lean muscles beneath, the fabric clinging to his shoulders and chest in the hot glow of the stage lights—a contrast to the cold winter nights air. 

Under the spotlights, he seemed to glow, a halo of golden light casting shadows along the contours of his jaw and the high cheekbones that only seemed sharper under the intensity of his concentration. He closed his eyes, and it was like he let go of something, sinking deeper into the music. The slight furrow in his brow softened, replaced by an expression of pure, unguarded passion. 

He bent his head, and his dark brown hair fell forward, tumbling across his forehead in a way that I knew would drive his fans wild. 

There were social media pages dedicated to his fringe. 

I lifted my phone, snapping off pictures for their socials. As their marketing and public relations manager, it was my job to make them look good 24/7. And even though it was New Year’s Eve, this was one of our biggest events of the entire year—which meant that my job wouldn’t be done until they were all safely tucked in their beds. 

I panned to the crowd, capturing their ecstatic energy. 

Nights like this made the sacrifice worthwhile. 

"Five minutes to countdown!" Liz, my assistant, chirped through my earpiece. "Everyone in position?"

I tapped my mic. "Copy that. Main stage is secured."

The band closed out their next song and the lights blinked out, bathing the stage in darkness. I blinked rapidly, watching as the band reset, getting ready for their final song. 

This one had to be timed perfectly, and the clock at the front of the stage was the watch by which we lived and died tonight. There could be no mistakes. 

"Two minutes!"

I grabbed my mobile phone, prepared to ring in the new year with a livestream for their social media from my safe position in the wings. 

The opening notes rang out—a raw, gritty guitar riff from Sam that sliced through the silence and sent the audience into a frenzy. He dragged the sound out, letting it reverberate through the speakers, each note hitting like a pulse, thrumming through the floor and into my chest.

The bass kicked in next, Felix’s deep, rolling line that seemed to come from somewhere primal, anchoring the wild energy of the song. Then Radley’s drums exploded like thunder the stage lights flashing in time with her beat—relentless, and somehow a little chaotic, matching the song’s name and spirit. The crowd, already loud, now erupted, their screams almost drowning out the music.

Justice stepped forward, owning the stage. His voice, dark and rich, poured into the mic, filling the space with a raspy intensity. 

Wild Heart was the band’s anthem, their first big hit and the one that had turned them into legends. The lyrics were rough and unapologetic, a love letter to every risk they’d ever taken, every rule they’d ever broken. Justice didn’t just sing it; he lived it, pouring every ounce of himself into each line.

"I was born in the dark, made for the fight,

Running on heart and a devil's light.

Broke all the rules, lost my way,

But I’d rather burn out than fade away."

The words cut through the roar of the crowd, drawing the audience in. Justice leaned forward, one hand gripping the mic stand, his other hand reaching out as if he were pulling them into his world. I could hear the screaming of fans as they sang along with him, their voices blending with his in a harmony that thrilled me.

“Wild heart, I can’t be chained,

Fire in my blood, lightning in my veins.

I’ll break the walls, I’ll tear apart—

I’m a storm, I’m a spark, I’m a wild heart.”

The song built and built, each chorus more intense than the last. 

I stood in the wings, delighted to capture this moment on camera—already knowing this would be a key feature for our social media campaign over the next few weeks. 

But Sam, apparently, had other ideas.

He caught my eye mid-solo, a dangerous grin spreading across his face. I knew that look. That was his 'I'm-about-to-cause-chaos' look.

I narrowed my eyes at him in warning. 

"One minute!"

The countdown began, voices rising in anticipation. Sam stepped back from his mic, still playing but now moving with purpose toward my side of the stage. 

Toward me.

"Thirty seconds!"

“Oh hell no,” I mouthed at him, glaring with the fire of a thousands suns. 

"Twenty seconds!"

He reached the edge of the stage, still playing, still grinning like the devil himself.

"Fifteen seconds!"

In one smooth motion, he pulled the guitar strap over his head, passing the instrument to a waiting stage tech without missing a beat.

"Ten!"

He caught my hand, ignoring my squeak of protest.

"Nine!"

"Eight!"

He pulled me onto the stage.

"Seven!"

"Six!"

He pushed me toward Justice, accepting his guitar back with a seamless transition from the trailing tech. Justice wrapped an arm around my neck holding me in place between them as they both leaned forward, screaming the final lines into the microphone. 

“I’ll break the walls, I’ll tear apart—” 

"Five!"

"Four!"

"Three!"

“I’m a storm, I’m a spark, I’m a wild heart!” 

"Two!"

Sam struck a final chord on his guitar as the lights all around us went black. 

"ONE!"

The crowd erupted as fireworks burst from behind the stage shooting into the midnight sky. The light show bathed everyone in streams of gold and silver, as confetti and streamers exploded from the front of the stage, covering the laughing, kissing, celebrating crowd in shimmering paper. 

Sam's warm hand caught mine, tugging me close. His soft lips gently brushed my cheek completely at odds with the heaving chaos surrounding us.

"Happy New Year, Faye," he murmured, his breath tickling my ear.

My heart skipped, fluttering with a mix of nostalgia and something softer, sweeter, almost unreal—like we were reliving an old memory that had never happened but somehow felt inevitable. I closed my eyes, dizzy with the thrill of a perfect show, a closing chapter, an new year of possibilities. 

I leaned into him enjoying the fireworks show. "Happy New Year, you annoying pest."

His chuckle was lost as Justice launched into "Auld Lang Syne" with the crowd quickly joining in. Felix and Radley fell in, providing the instrumental backing. I stepped back as Sam let me go, adding his guitar to the mix. 

Justice wrapped an arm around me, thrusting the microphone into my face. With a laugh, I shoved it away, but let him pull me close as we sang. 

Their set wrapped a few songs later as I quickly uploaded some footage to their socials and hit send on their pre-recorded New Years message.

“Faye! Put down the phone!” Radley ordered, wrapping one sweaty arm around my shoulders and carrying me along with them as they tumbled through the backstage area. “It’s New Year’s Day!” 

“Just one more—”

She plucked the phone out of my hand, tucking it into her bra. “Try me.”

I snorted, hip-bumping her. “Babe, if you think that’s gonna stop me you have another think coming.” 

We walked down and into the churning crowd, being swept along with the revellers as security kept us safe. 

I hunched my shoulders, pulling my coat tighter around me, grateful I’d thought to grab it before leaving the warmth of the stage. Winter had settled over the city around us, biting and unforgiving—but beautiful. My breath still fogged faintly as we moved through the crowd, stopping here and there for the band to sign autographs and take pictures. 

Around us, the remnants of New Years’ celebrations hung on snow-dusted buildings mixed in with forgotten pieces of mistletoe and Christmas lights, and the occasional menorah in a window. 

We followed security around to the back of the stage, weaving through the tight area and out onto a back alley. 

"Shots!" Justice held up the bottle of tequila he’d pulled from God only knew where. "Come on, Faye.” He shook it enticingly. “You've orchestrated the perfect show, the perfect countdown, the perfect everything. Time to let loose!"

"Leave her alone," Sam said, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "You know Faye doesn't do unplanned fun."

I glanced back at him, poking my tongue out "I do too!" 

The entire band turned to look at me with identical expressions of disbelief.

"Name one time," Radley challenged with a laugh. “I dare you.” 

"I..." My mind raced through five years of touring, searching for a single moment of spontaneity.

"The time she let us order pizza without checking Yelp reviews first?" Felix offered.

"And because of that we all ended up with food poisoning," Justice countered.

Sam's chest rumbled with laughter behind me. "Face it, babe. You're about as spontaneous as a tax return.”

There had to be something in the air, because unlike the other million times Sam had teased me, this time the way 'babe' rolled off his tongue so casually, made my spine tingle even as I grounded my teeth together at his stupid dig. 

It shouldn’t hurt that people assumed I wasn’t fun. I was! Just because I had structured, planned times to let loose didn’t make it any less fun. 

Tax return. I’ll how him how spontaneous I can be. 

"Fine." I straightened, squaring my shoulders. "One shot." I held up a finger. “One.” 

Justice's eyes widened. "Wait, really?"

"Really." I grabbed the bottle from his hands, determined to prove them all wrong. "But I'm instigating our responsible drinking protocols."

The band groaned in unison.

"Faye..." Justice pouted. “Really?” 

“It's practical. Item one: establish a designated driver—"

"Already handled," Radley cut in. "Car service is booked until noon tomorrow."

"Item two: ensure proper hydration—"

"Got water bottles in the car and the hotel rooms," Felix said.

"Item three: maintain professional boundaries—"

Radley squeezed my shoulders and leaned in, licking my cheek. "Like this?” 

“Radley!” 

She laughed, dancing away. 

I looked at the shot glass Justice held out, tempted to take it but also strangely terrified.

Well, not so strangely if I allowed myself to remember why I instigated a no drinking policy in the first place. 

Alex. 

The remnant shadow and humiliation and shame burned the back of my throat as I stared at the glass. 

My ex-boyfriend had taken me out drinking the night before a big presentation. We’d worked at the same firm, keeping our relationship secret. I’d thought it romantic and dangerous—never realising that the only reason he’d wanted in my pants was to steal my ideas. 

He’d gotten me wasted, left me at home to sleep it off, then presented my ideas as his own to the presenter thus winning the account that should have been mine. As a result, I’d been seen as flakey and unreliable. 

I’d lost my job a few months later. 

"Come on, Faye," Sam’s warm breath brushed the shell of my ear. "Don’t let him steal more of your joy. You can do this."

I took the shot glass.

"To The Wild Ones," I said, raising it high. "And to..." I hesitated.

"To unplanned moments," Sam said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “And memories we’ll never forget.” 

"To the memories!" the band echoed.

I blanched, shooting Sam a look when he chuckled at my discomfort. 

The tequila warmed my blood as the party kicked into full swing. We made our way through the streets to a small dive bar the band had rented out for those who had worked on the concert. Our roadies and crew poured into the tiny venue, taking advantage of the free food and booze on offer. 

I squeezed myself into a miniscule booth with Sam, laughing as Justice commandeered the sound system, turning our private afterparty into what he called a "proper celebration."

"Ten bucks says he tries to stage dive onto one of the couches within the hour," Sam murmured, pouring me a glass of water.

I accepted it gratefully. "Twenty says he tries to convince Radley to let him crowd surf on the cleaning crew first."

Sam's laugh rumbled deep in his chest. "This is why you're my favourite."

A warm tingle raced down my spine to pool in my belly at his words. A spark of something igniting as our thighs brushed. 

That is the tequila talking. 

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to tease him back. "Because I enable your gambling habit?"

"Because you know our boy better than he knows himself." He nudged my shoulder with his. "Speaking of which..."

I followed his gaze to where Justice was climbing onto a chair, shirt already missing.

"I got it." I moved out of the booth, straightening my dress as I put my game face on. "Justice! What's our rule about staying clothed at industry events?"

"But it's just us!" He wobbled precariously.

"And the cleanup crew, three security guards, roadies, and—" I squinted at the corner. "Is that the venue owner's daughter recording this?"

Justice's eyes widened as he scrambled down. 

Sam's familiar chuckle hit my ear as his hand pressed against my lower back. He leaned down to whisper in my ear, "And that's why you're the real rock star here."

"Hardly." But I leaned into his touch, just slightly. Just enough. "Someone has to keep you lot from trending for the wrong reasons."

"Hey, my trends are always tasteful."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "The Great Pants Incident of 2019?"

"That was one time!"

"The Dolphin Debacle?"

"Those charges were dropped."

"The Valentine's Day—"

His hand slid around my waist, spinning me to face the makeshift dance floor where Felix was attempting to teach Radley some TikTok dance. "Dance with me instead of listing my crimes?"

"That's not a denial," I pointed out, but let him pull me closer as the music shifted to something slower.

"Never said it was." His other hand found mine, warm and calloused from guitar strings. "Just trying to distract you before you remember the Coffee Shop Crisis."

"The Coffee Shop—" I blanched. "Samuel Dogg, you promised we'd never speak of that again."

His grin was wicked. "Dance with me and I'll keep your secret about the barista and the whipped cream."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." But his eyes were soft, teasing. 

This was our dance, our rhythm. Push and pull, tease and protect, always knowing exactly where the lines were.

Sure, there might be the seed of attraction there, I mean what person wouldn’t find a cute rock star attractive? 

But I’d never let it take root. Sam mattered too much to me as both a friend and client.  

But one dance couldn’t hurt. 

I relaxed into his hold, letting him sway us gently. "Fine. But only because I'm protecting your reputation."

"Of course." His thumb brushed over my knuckles. "Nothing to do with how much you love dancing with me."

"You're not that special, Dogg."

"No?" He spun me out, then back into his chest with practiced ease. "Name one other person who knows exactly how you take your coffee after dealing with Justice's pranks."

"Extra hot, double shot—"

"Triple shot," he corrected. "Extra hot, triple shot, with a splash of vanilla but only if it's before noon. After noon it's straight espresso because you say the vanilla makes you too soft for negotiations."

Warmth that had nothing to do with tequila spread through my chest. "Lucky guess."

"Just like I'm guessing you've got at least three contingency plans for Justice's inevitable attempt to recreate the New Year's ball drop using the chandelier?"

I bit my lip. "Four, actually."

His laugh vibrated through me and for just a moment I allowed myself to sink against him, resting my weight against his length. 

How nice it would be to have something—or someone—like Sam in my—

"Faye! Emergency!" Felix's voice shattered the moment. "Justice found the pyrotechnics control panel!"

I stepped back, professional mask sliding into place. "Duty calls."

Sam's hand lingered on my waist for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "Go save the day, PR Queen. I'll make sure the fire extinguishers are ready."

"Our regular Tuesday night then?"

His smile softened. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

I hurried off to prevent Justice from recreating the Fourth of July indoors, trying to ignore how cold my skin felt where Sam's hands had been. Trying even harder to ignore how right it had felt to be in his arms.

Professional boundaries, I reminded myself firmly. I'd learned that lesson the hard way with Alex.

But as Sam's laugh echoed across the room, warm and familiar as a favourite song, I wondered if maybe some boundaries were meant to be crossed.

Just not tonight.

"Justice Wilder, put down that lighter right now!"