Don't Mess With The Rock Chicks

“Are you ready?” Vice asked her, his voice low. “If you feel tired…”

Mirage could hear the music pouring out of the venue in the occasional breaks in the roar from the crowds gathered around the red carpet as the limousine driver opened the door. The crowd pressed against the barricades trying to see who was in the car.

“I am fine,” she assured him. “Fit as a fiddle.”

Both he and Victor would happily have kept her home and in bed forever more, she thought, amused.

Vice lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles before releasing her. She watched him slide elegantly out of the car, something only he could do, she was certain. The man simply oozed elegance in every movement, like a sleekly coated panther.

She heard the crowds scream his name, excitement rising the pitch, and the flash as cameras went into a frenzy, and his laughter, enjoying their admiration. Vain boy, Natalia called him fondly. As usually, Victor’s mother was entirely correct. But Mirage loved the vain boy