Read Blackthorne: Heart of Fame, Book 8 for Free Online

sure that didn’t happen either. All of them had existed in that deluded state at various points in their stellar careers, as had his father. None of them held back on the stories of the shit and heartache that kind of conceited, self-absorbed ego and attitude caused. The moment he’d become the new front man for Synergy, the moment his dad had wished him success with his old band, the guys had decided they weren’t going to let fame go to his head. They’d taken on the over-protective-uncle role and kept him grounded.
    But it was hard not to become enthralled with the power his fame delivered, especially when there was no Samuel, Jax, Levi or Noah around to tell him he was being a cocky wanker. Perhaps they all needed to tour again? Or spend some time in a recording studio. Perhaps he’d run loose for too long with nothing but his money, fame and ego to drive him.
    Perhaps he should have headed to Murriundah instead of Sydney. Laying low with his mum and dad would have definitely grounded him. Partying in Sydney with Rhys? Yeah, not so much.
    “Fuck,” he muttered again, doing that totally useless shuffle people did when they knew they had to do something to fix a situation but had no idea what that something was. His looked even more ridiculous, thanks to the fact his limp made him shuffle in a lopsided way.
    He’d upset Caitlin with that smug declaration. That much was obvious. The way she’d fled him, the stunned disbelief in her eyes. Not his finest hour. Fuck, what was her uncle going to do to him if he found out?
    And if her uncle was pissed—and rightly so—would he mention it to his friend, Aslin Rhodes? Aslin, who’d been Nick Blackthorne’s bodyguard for over fifteen years. Before Josh could fix his fuck-up, his father would be chewing him out for being the very conceited, arrogant arsehole Nick had never wanted Josh to be.
    Tugging on his hair, Josh shuffled with increasing exasperation. Jesus, in the space of a few seconds he’d gone from feeling like an untouchable rock god to a little boy scared of his dad’s wrath and the censure of his dad’s friends.
    All because he was horny over a woman whose laughing, smiling image had fed more than one sexual fantasy. A woman who so obviously didn’t like him.
    “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled, staring at the spot Caitlin had disappeared into the frenetic nightclub. He had to find her. He had to apologise. Not just because he didn’t want to disappoint his father, or incur physical injury from her uncle, Liev, but because he didn’t like the idea he’d upset her.
    Didn’t like that he was responsible for the shocked pain in her eyes.
    Shoving his way through the crowd, uncaring of the hands groping at him, the bodies grinding against him and the dull ache in his right knee where the metal pins buried into his bones, he headed for the bar. He didn’t see Rhys. It was likely, knowing how smooth his friend was, that Rhys was already scoring in a dark corner somewhere. He did hear his own name whispered more than once. By the time he made it to the bar, he’d had four paper napkins with phone numbers scribbled on them shoved into his hands, down his shirt and in his back pocket. Christ, women were shameless sometimes.
    It almost made him wish he hadn’t ditched his bodyguard back in New York with nothing but an email telling him to take a few days off. If Kenny were here now, Josh would be able to find Caitlin without dealing with groping hands and unsolicited phone numbers in his pocket.
    Elbowing his way to the bar’s edge, he studied the people working behind it. Four women and two guys tended the madness of demanding patrons. All did so with easy smiles and natural calm.
    Josh couldn’t help but be impressed. Caitlin knew how to pick her staff.
    “Hey,” he shouted, waving at the nearest bartender—a tall guy with skin darker than chocolate, a gleaming shaved head and bulging muscles under his tight black shirt.
    The bartender crossed to