Love is a Harmony

1 NOAH Nothing made sense in the world of rock stars and celebrities. Not the friendships. The romantic relationships. And certainly not the need for scandal. Noah Clarke knew his fans. He knew their every want and need, the way he had to appear to them to make them love him more. To keep them from looking too closely at the things he tried to hide. He was the British bad boy without a history. No one knew of the family he hid in England, the one with more money than sense. They didn’t see him as the son of a lord. They didn’t know the man who sometimes exchanged his ripped jeans and designer t-shirts for suits that cost more money than any clothes should. All the world knew was what he told them. And what was that? Noah Clarke was the prototypical rock star prone to too much drinking and too many women. Was there such a thing? He flaunted his flaws, embraced the image even his publicist believed. And he did it with glee. “Ava.” Noah looked up from the velvet chaise in his oldest friend’s London loft, and a grin widened his lips. “Come here.” Ava turned from the mirror she’d been examining non-existent wrinkles in and scowled. “Cut it out with the smarmy smile. It’s gross.” “I am not smarmy.” She raised one brow. “All right, come on. Noah had known Ava Sinclair since they were in diapers. Their parents were on many charity boards together, and they’d made a habit of sneaking away from functions as kids along with Noah’s older brother. He’d been the ringleader, always getting the two younger kids to follow him wherever he went. But that was before. Now, Noah wasn’t sure where Carson was, only that he wouldn’t like the lifestyle Noah led. But that was the point. Ava pulled the elastic from her fire-red hair and let the waves shake out over her shoulders. She was nothing if not dramatic. “Let’s get this over with.” “Just what every guy wants to hear.” She rolled her eyes to the tiled ceiling and sighed before stripping her shirt off over her head, leaving her in a black lace b*a that would have had most men in the country, heck, the world, sinking into oblivion. Noah was not most guys. He’d seen Ava in less as they spurred on the rumors of a relationship between the British rocker and the prim socialite model. He’d helped her shake the proper image while she helped him encourage his reckless reputation. It was a win win. Noah ran a hand through his messy brown hair and blew out a breath. “Okay, come here.” Phone clutched in one hand, Ava crawled into Noah’s lap, straddling him. She put one hand on his bare chest, letting her hair fall forward to graze his skin, and held the phone up with her other hand. “Say cheese.” Instead, Noah winced. “You’re crushing me.” “Oh, don’t be a baby. And stop looking like you’re constipated. Make a face like you love me.” He stuck out his tongue. “Tosser.” “Seductress.” He widened his eyes in challenge. She leaned in. “Phony.” “Phony, eh?” The word hit home, but he didn’t let her see the impact. “I’ll show you phony.” He flipped her off him and rolled her beneath him in one movement until he hovered over her. Taking the phone from her fingers, he held it up and dropped his voice. “How is this for phony?” His face inches from hers, he snapped the picture. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Ava had never been his. She’d always been in love with his brother, and Noah sometimes wondered if she saw too much of Carson in him. He sat back on his heels, looking down at her, wondering if she’d given up hope yet. Hope that Carson would return after his disappearing act years ago. Hope that Noah’s family would welcome him if he did. Hope that things could be different. Because Noah would never give it up. He’d never stop wishing he could call his brother, who used to be the most important person in the world to him, that he could tell him about the insanity his life had become. And that only started with fake scandals. Ava scrambled from the chaise, her fingers already flying over the keys of her phone. After a moment, she looked up. “And posted.” She held her phone out for him to see the picture. She’d given it a black and white filter, and they looked lost in each other. Beneath it, she’d written “I always love visits from my favorite rocker.” Likes started pouring in. Ava was a social media guru. Noah relied on her whenever he wanted something spread wide. He stayed away from social media himself, letting the label’s media team handle it. Thinking of how angry they were going to be by this display had him smiling. At least he was doing something right. “It was fun, love.” Noah pressed a kiss to her cheek and reached for his shirt to slip it on over his head. “We shall have to do this again sometime.” Ava crossed her arms. “Stop speaking like the toff you were bred to be. It’s not right.” He shot her a smirk. “Whatever you say, love. I must be off. Nan will be wondering if I crashed my Maserati.” “Now, that would be a shame. Your face would recover, but that car…” She pushed him toward the door. “Drive safe, and don’t make me wait so long to see you next time.” “Life of a rock star, Ava. Get used to it.” He gave her his smarmiest smile, and she yanked open the door. “Well, my best friend isn’t a rock star. He’s the boy who used to spike the punch at his family’s events, thinking no one would be able to tell.” He had done that. Three times. And each time, it resulted in high society ladies spitting out their drinks in a very un-ladylike fashion. Noah shrugged on his coat and winked. “See you soon.” With that, he stepped outside her townhome, letting the chilly November air wrap around him. He loved the cold, reveled in the feel of the wind whipping him in the face. It cleared his mind. His Maserati sat at the curb, the cobalt blue paint glittering in the sun. Only two weeks ago, he’d been on tour with Drew Stone. Months of drivers in black town cars shuttling him where he needed to go. It felt good to be back behind the wheel. He only wished it felt just as good to be home. Home. London didn’t feel like a place he belonged anymore. His friends in the states, fellow rock stars and label execs, assumed he came back here on his time off because he owned a place in the city. What would they say if they knew he only did it to meet family expectations? A sigh wound through him as he slid onto the leather seats and closed the door. His phone rang, and he knew who it was before he answered it. Pressing a button on his steering wheel, he steeled himself for the onslaught. “Noah Clarke!” She didn’t sound happy. Melanie Snyder was his publicist but also more than that. They’d become friends, and having her around calmed him. But here, with an ocean between them, he started to lose that feeling. “Hey, Mel. How’s it going?” “How’s it going? Hmm… let’s see. A few minutes ago, one of my biggest clients was tagged in an ** photo in an unclothed state.” He suppressed a laugh. Only Mel would say “unclothed state.” Well, her and most the people he knew here in England. She’d fit in well with his family. “Sorry, Mel. I didn’t know she’d post that.” He hated lying to her, but he knew she wouldn’t agree to the lengths he went to keep up the image. So, he let her believe the image was him. Melanie’s sigh came through the speaker. “Every gossip publication will pick that up by tonight. Can you get her to take it down?” “Doubtful.” Ava would if he asked, but he wouldn’t ask. “Noah, I need you to be smarter than that. I want to clean up your image before you go into the studio in a few months.” His fans didn’t want clean. He’d known that from the start. “About the studio… I’ve decided I don’t want to record anything without Jo.” He braced for impact. “But she’ll still be on the album. We can add in the drum parts later.” Noah’s drummer, Jo Jackson, was currently hiding out in L.A., pregnant. They’d been together since they met working in a dive in New York when he was twenty. He’d left home, hoping to make it on his music in the states. That was nine years ago. Guitarists and bassists came and went, but Noah and Jo were a team. The singer and his drummer. “You don’t get it, Mel. I don’t want to do any of it without her.” He couldn’t imagine singing in the studio without her looking in through the glass. She was his person. Melanie was quiet for a long moment. “What about the pop-up concerts? You’re scheduled to return home in two days to do a series of solo shows.” “No. I’m sorry, I can’t.” He didn’t know what it was about the thought of doing something on his own. Jo was his crutch, he knew that, but he wasn’t ashamed of it. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll be back when I’m back.” “Fine. I’ll smooth this over with the label, but don’t miss our meeting tomorrow.” The meeting. Rockstars Anonymous. He’d thought it was a joke when Melanie started the rock star support group five years ago. Now, it was a lifeline. “Okay, Mel. Talk then.” He hung up before she could decipher the lie in his voice. Whenever he returned home, he tried to sever ties to his real life, at least for a while. It helped to separate the two. He had no intention of talking to Rockstars Anonymous from his family’s estate. It took him half an hour to get out of the city and onto the winding countryside roads that would take him to Carson manor, named for his great-great-grandfather who’d suffered through a short term as prime minister. His brother had the burden of that name as well, and entering the grounds always made Noah think of Carson. How he’d loved his horses and galloped across the freshly mown lawns in front of the large brick manor. Their mother chastised him, but he never stopped. But Carson left them years ago, choosing to make his own path. Wherever Carson was, Noah hoped he rode horses still. Dust kicked up underneath his tires as he made his way up the long and familiar drive. Memories crashed in on him. The day Carson left was forever burned into his mind. Noah had been home to attend their grandad’s funeral. Carson came from his London townhouse with a baby in his arms, claiming he’d fathered her. Stella. Noah could still see her tiny hands as he’d held her while Carson argued with their parents. The night ended in Carson taking Stella and leaving. Noah expected them to be back in the following days, but he hadn’t come. It took years for Noah to learn his parents didn’t believe the child was their blood. They accused the woman—who’d left—of manipulating Carson. None of them had seen him since. Noah parked behind the large heated barns as the sun dimmed in the sky, preparing to sink into the evening darkness. He ran a hand over his face and readied his nerves, looking down at his casual clothes, the wardrobe of a rock star. His parents wouldn’t approve. But Nan would love it. That thought put a smile on his face as he stepped out of the car. He didn’t bother knocking on the enormous oak door before pushing it open to reveal a marble-lined entryway. He waited for the onslaught of attention, but none came. The butler was nowhere to be found, and for that, he was grateful. A maid appeared from a doorway and froze when she saw him. All who worked with the family signed non-disclosure agreements to keep them from telling the world Noah Clarke was one of those Clarke’s, second son of a lord. “Hello.” He inclined his head to the maid. “Sir, w-was the family expecting you?” She looked behind her. “Kinkaide isn’t here this week.” He was the butler. Noah laughed. “They probably didn’t think I’d come home tonight, no.” “D-do you have bags to take to your room?” “I can handle it. Thank you.” She hesitated a moment longer before scurrying away. The sound of forks on plates reached Noah, and he headed toward the gleaming white kitchen. Everything was marble and stainless steel. Two cooks hurried through the space, not sparing a second glance for Noah as he walked toward the dining room, freezing in his tracks. Every chair at the long wooden table was taken, mostly by people Noah recognized. Many eyes found him as he stared. Finally, his mother took note of his presence and rose from her chair. Her ebony hair was pulled away from her face, revealing hard eyes. “Forgive my son for his appearance.” Her eyes settled on Noah. “He will change and join us.” Noah couldn’t stomach the thought of a stuffy dinner. He met his Nan’s kinder gaze and cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, my lords and ladies, but I am completely knackered. Maybe another time.” With that, he turned on his heel and marched back the way he’d come. He reached the stairs and took them two at a time. By the time he entered the one space in this house that felt like his, he collapsed onto his bed with a groan. Why did he come home again? Noah woke to a soft tapping on his door. He’d know that sound anywhere. His father’s knocks were loud, booming, and his mother’s were more irritated. But Nan… she pushed open the door without waiting to be invited. Noah sat up and lifted one brow. “I could’ve been n***d in here.” Her weathered face brightened as she laughed. “Boyo, I have seen you n***d more times than I can count.” “Gross.” She’d practically raised both him and his brother while their parents traveled and busied themselves with society events. So, it was true. Nan had changed his diapers and let kid-Noah run around in the nude in a way his parents never would have allowed. Nan balanced a tray of food with a surprising agility on one hand as she shut the door and approached the bed. “I thought you’d be hungry.” Noah scrunched his face up, imagining what his parents had served their guests. Caviar and pâté. Maybe some black pudding. He shuddered. A low chuckle escaped Nan. “Don’t worry, I had the kitchen staff whip you up a delicious bowl of fruit loops.” In reality, she meant she’d snuck the cereal out under the kitchen staff’s noses. Noah’s parents wouldn’t have approved of such food in their kitchen. He reached for the tray. “Have I told you I love you?” “I never tire of hearing it from my boy.” She sat on the corner of the bed as he ate. “Now, tell me why I just saw a picture of you and Ava doing the dirty.” “Don’t say doing the dirty, Nan.” “I’m not that old.” “Yes, you are.” He shoved a spoonful in his mouth. “Well, you and Ava must be up to something.” She knew him too well—and Ava. It started four years ago, the scandals. Almost a year to the day neither of them had heard from Carson. Until then, Noah’s image wasn’t squeaky clean, but he’d walked the line of rebellion, knowing his strait-laced older brother would make a point to fly to L.A. and chastise him if he went too far. But really, Noah knew Carson always just wanted to make sure his little brother was okay. So, after Carson disappeared, Noah wanted to get his attention, to make him prove he still cared. Each time he was caught doing something scandalous, he waited for Carson to appear, waited for him to tell Noah he was so much better than his antics. He was the only person who’d ever made Noah feel he was worth something—other than Nan. And it hadn’t worked. “Just the usual, Nan.” Her smile fell because she knew what the usual meant when no one else did. Nan had always been Noah’s confidant, his secret keeper, the one person he knew would love him no matter what he did. “Well, I, for one, am glad you’re no longer keeping up your Twitter feud with Drew Stone.” Gag him. His nan was a huge Drew Stone fan, a fact he’d never tell Drew. “Couldn’t very well feud while we were on tour, could we? But that was fun. More fun than being here.” If Jo hadn’t been pregnant, they’d still be on tour with Drew and Piper and Lola, people he’d come to rely on over the months, people he hadn’t talked to since leaving them. Nan patted his knee as he drained the remaining milk from the bowl. “You’re a good boy, Noah. I wish you’d let more people see that.” She stood. “And don’t let your parents get to you this time. They’re worried about this dinner coming up because the prime minister has agreed to attend, and you know how they despise that man.” Nan had spent his life telling him to have patience with his parents, but there was only so much time that could last. “I know. That’s why I’m here.” His family controlled his trust fund. They had a power to decide when and what he did. They’d made an agreement that his touring obligations came first, but this time there had been no excuse. Nan took the tray and stood. “Oh, there was a call from a Jerald Corban that came into the main line for you. It sounded important.” Noah stared at the door long after she left. Jerald. He hadn’t heard from him in months, and important news didn’t feel like good news. He checked his notifications on his phone, and sure enough, he had seven missed calls from the day before. Jerald must have been desperate if he called the house line. Foreboding wound through Noah. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he returned the call, nothing in his life would ever be the same. Yet, he didn’t have a choice. If Jerald needed to tell him something, it meant Noah needed to hear it. His thumb hovered over the name before pressing down and bringing the phone to his ear. Jerald’s rough smoker’s voice answered on the second ring. “About time you called me back.” “I’ve been busy.” He tried to quell his shaking voice. Jerald wasn’t an imposing man, but the task Noah asked of him was. Find Carson. Discover once and for all where Noah’s brother had gone. Jerald was a private investigator who’d worked for Noah for going on three years now with no results. “All right, Mr. Clarke, I have some news for you, and it’s not easy to say.” “Just spit it out.” Jerald sighed. “Yes, I’m getting there. The trail for your brother has been cold for so long, I’ve just been acting like I’m still searching, so you’ll continue paying me.” “I was aware. Go on.” “I’ve made a little noise looking for the man, and today, I was contacted by another PI who was looking for a way to get in touch with you without alerting that big fancy family of yours. You ain’t so easy to get on the phone these days.” Of course not. One of the prices of fame. People always knew where he was, but they couldn’t get to him. “And what did this PI want with me?” “He works for a solicitor over in France. I believe they call them advocates. This solicitor says he’s got something for you from your brother.” Noah sat up straighter. “Carson is in France?” Jerald was quiet for a long moment. “No, Noah. Your brother is dead.”