Tudor Rose (The Tudor Dynasty Series) Read online

  Tudor Rose

  By

  Jamie Salisbury

  Copyright@ December 2011 by Jamie Salisbury

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

  Edition: December 2011

  2nd Edition: May 2013

  . . .the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. . .

  Steve Jobs

  This book is dedicated to all those who have encouraged me throughout this long journey.

  Chapter One

  I thought I retired from all this madness, this business. Obviously someone didn’t get the memo. Instead, I am sitting in First Class winging deep into the abyss. This time though I won’t be resuming my previous position of manager/publicist extraordinaire. No, I’m returning as the personal bodyguard to Amadeus Tudor, rock star royalty. Tudor is part of a musical dynasty, three siblings, each achieving a level of fame, more often than not, seen only once in a lifetime. After I retired, I left Amadeus and his band, Tudor Rose, without a manager or publicist. I waited until the end of the tour, hoping he would hire someone new after taking a break. My idea backfired, he sank into a deep depression.

  Why would a woman be chosen to watch after one of the most sought after men in the entertainment business? My unique relationship with Amadeus. He trusts me more than anyone. I’ve spent hours training to handle any situation so the fact I am female rather than a man is not an issue.

  It was Amadeus’ record label that contacted me. They begged me to help pick up the pieces. I refused the first five times Robert Dunn called. Finally I caved. Amadeus was refusing to tour without me. I’ve witnessed Amadeus emerge from a teenage boy to the man he is today, and over all the years together we’ve formed a special relationship and love, that is inaccessible by others. A bond that brings me back.

  My life away has been filled with a lot of travel. Funny as it sounds I have spent years traveling with Amadeus and his band wandering the world on tour. You don’t manage to catch a glimpse of the sights much less anything else. After tying up loose ends and after selling my business, I set off on a dream trip, an amazing journey to Patagonia, Chile. For the first time in years I actually relaxed. After six months, I returned to New York.

  I met with Robert in Manhattan about replacing the money grabbers. Somebody Amadeus will trust and work with and accept. We decided on Artie Bowman because he’s been around the business for years. He’s highly respected, with an impressive track record, and he knows Amadeus. He managed Amadeus’ older brother’s band, Rypp Tyde, until Damien had suffered a serious stroke at age twenty-nine and was forced to retire.

  The three of us meet a couple of days later. They realize I am on board, but am having my own reservations about getting back into a business I thought I had put behind me. They also know I’m fiercely loyal to Amadeus and count on that as they confide in me the other reason.

  “Zara,” Robert began, “someone is trying to hurt Amadeus. That’s why I want you on the tour.”

  “What do you mean someone’s out to harm him?” I ask. “Any idea who might be behind this? Has something happened?” They both shake their heads.

  “Not exactly, but this was intercepted at the house Amadeus is renting in L.A…” Robert pushes something to me.

  I read the note and turn the paper over. It says: ‘Amadeus will never make it to the end of the tour.’ I put my head down on the table and groan. Damn!

  “Yes?” Robert inquired.

  “Get me a first class ticket,” I reply, kicking myself in the butt for what is coming out of my mouth.

  “Zara, you’re the best! You won’t regret joining us,” Artie exclaims.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Boys this isn’t going to be cheap, even if I am doing this for Amadeus. Now, unless you’ve something more to tell me, I’ve got a lot to do. Call me when you get the flight arranged. I guess I’ll meet the two of you in L.A…” I leave the meeting, shaking my head. Well, I tell myself, at least this will look fabulous on your resume!

  ***

  Not unlike the court of a sixteenth century Henry XIII, this clan of rock aristocracy lives in excess and to the fullest. Heck, an ongoing rumor out in the stratosphere claims that this modern day version is related to ol’ Henry. Whether real or simply the fabrication of some publicity mill, this Tudor clan lives and breathes every word of it.

  William Tudor, the patriarch of the family, came to the United States from England as a young lad of six. His story is not one of a poor immigrant, but rather one of quite a different start. Henry Tudor, his father was dispatched to Washington, D.C. to work with the British Ambassador. He was eighteen at the time his dad was reassigned. With his parents blessing, he remained in his adopted country, enrolling in college. Upon graduation, William accepted a position as an engineer with an aircraft manufacturer in Seattle. He soon found himself on the opposite side of the country without Grace, a young American woman he’d met while in college. First chance he got, William traveled back to Virginia and they married.

  The vibrant beauty, Grace abandoned her fledgling career as a concert pianist to follow her heart. She and William had five children, three boys and two girls. They had what most would call an idyllic childhood, raised in a prominent Seattle suburb, going to the best schools, excelling at everything they touched.

  ***

  Preparation for any tour is a monumental undertaking. It takes months of careful planning to pull it off. Since opening night is going to be in L.A. at the Staples Center. Amadeus decided to move rehearsals to California instead of Seattle where they have been previously.

  Amadeus has rented a house on the beach in Malibu, allowing him to get away and relax before the mayhem begins and to focus without the circus. This is where I’ll stay, giving us time to catch up.

  Arriving in Los Angeles Artie meets me at LAX and we make the long drive to Malibu through the daily smog choked freeways of L.A… I’m grateful he’s taken the time to come to the airport, so he can fill me in on everything. We determine that the easiest way for me to blend in will be as Amadeus’ love interest. Attention doesn’t need to be drawn to Amadeus having a bodyguard. He’s never had one and the rumor mills will crank up if he appears to have one now. So far, Artie thinks no one is aware of the threats other than a handful of people. Should folks remember me, I won‘t draw attention. The assumption is our relationship changed, therefore, I resigned.

  I smile as a familiar figure comes running through the door as we pull into the beach front property. He doesn’t appear much different since the last time. In fact, he appears healthier and in better shape than I remember.

  “Zara!” he beams. “It’s so good to see you. You look fantastic. Rest and relaxation agree with you.” He leans over and kisses me on the lips as he holds on to me in an unusually long embrace. Every part of my body quivers at his touch, signifying to me that the feelings I kept secretly hidden, are intensely genuine.

  “You, well Amadeus, you look incredible,” I gush, afraid my face is giving me away. And he does. No lie. “I guess time off agrees with you also.” He’s a handsome man, tall with long, dark brown, almost black hair and piercing lapis blue eyes. He’s aware of his rugged good looks but has never flaunted them. Mo
st of his peers in the biz would be out screwing everything that came their way. Not Amadeus.

  We walk, his arm tightly around me, as Artie follows with my luggage. “Would you like me to show you to the guest room? If not, I‘m going to leave. The two of you obviously have a lot to catch up on.” Artie pretends not to pick up on any vibes arising in the house.

  “No, thanks though Artie.”

  “You sure you won’t stay?” Amadeus asked.

  “No, a ten year old is expecting me at a softball game I dare not miss.”

  “Go on, enjoy yourself,” I respond. “How is young mister Tristan these days?”

  “He’s growing like nobody’s business and thinks he knows everything.”

  “Well tell him his “auntie Zara” says hello.”

  “I will.” he responds as he leaves Amadeus and me to get reacquainted. Like riding a bike, easy.

  I glance around my surroundings. Typical California contemporary with a wall of windows overlooking the ocean, white and crisp against the magnificent blue of the Pacific. I realize how much I miss the laid back California lifestyle. Nowhere else is remotely similar. I grew up here and took it all for granted until I formed my publicity firm and moved to Manhattan. Not that I don’t enjoy Manhattan with all the hustle and bustle of a large city. I guess that’s why they’re on opposite ends of the country, they’re both unique.

  I sit down on the over-sized sofa, waiting for Amadeus to return from showing Artie out. A white baby grand piano beckons from a corner. There’s a decided lack of accessories. The exception being a hand-blown glass bowl on the coffee table and a couple pieces placed strategically throughout. An absence of art work on the walls, no books. It’s quite sparse indeed, very impersonal. Amadeus returns with two bottles of Italian sparkling water. He sits in a leather chair across from me. I am amazed by how good he appears. He asserts a confidence I haven’t seen in a long time, not the Amadeus described to me. The two of us discuss what I should expect as the launch date looms ever closer.

  “Now, you know the role I’m playing here, don’t you? In fact, someone should check out the places beforehand. That way it won’t look strange if Amadeus’ girl is poking around, going through hotel ball rooms and the like.”

  I catch Amadeus out of the corner of my eye. He’s leaning back in the chair, hands folded behind his head, looking up at the ceiling, smiling. “Well, any girl of mine wouldn’t be on her own skulking through places, she’d be with me, Zara.” He looks in toward me and those deep blue eyes lock right on me.

  It’s quite late in the afternoon, and I’m starving. Amadeus picks up on this, or perhaps the loud, obnoxious gurgling noises my stomach is making give him a hint. We aren’t dressed to go out, he’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt, his longish raven hair is shorter than the last time I’d seen him. Earth to Zara! Dinner!

  “You hungry? I thought we’d eat here tonight. You remember, once we’re on the road, it’s going to be all hotel, restaurant food, or junk.”

  “Sounds good. What are you thinking?”

  “Steaks on the grill, that sort of thing.”

  “Well, come on let’s get started,” I tease. “I’m still on N.Y. Time, which means its way past my dinner time!”

  The two of us make an excellent team getting our meal together. This is something we haven’t done in a long time. Simply hanging out. I realize I’ve missed having this quiet, uninterrupted time with him.

  Sitting on the massive cedar deck facing the Pacific later in the evening, recovering from the enormous dinner we’ve consumed, I catch myself watching folks walk by on the beach. Finally, I decide a long, leisurely stroll is called for. Amadeus needs no convincing. We head to the water’s edge and start walking, the chilly surf lapping over our feet. This one simple act always gives me immense pleasure. The sun is an enormous majestic ball of deep pink and purple on the horizon and we chat as we walk.

  “Zara, I want to hear all about this trip you took. I can’t believe you went to Patagonia by yourself!”

  I glance over at him. He’s right next to me, walking and watching me.

  “I was fine, I needed to get away and decompress if that makes sense.”

  “Totally, except Patagonia is at the end of the earth.”

  “It’s always been a place I’ve wanted to go. And it was everything I dreamt it would be. The land is unspoiled, wild, almost spiritual. The most amazing place ever!” I smile over at him. A flood of emotions hit me again. Evidently, I was just too busy to recognize them before.

  He’s watching me, the emotion on his face changes, almost as if he feels something of the way I’m feeling. “I remember, Patagonia was on your “bucket” list of places you wanted to visit. You want to go back?”

  “Yes. There’s so much left to explore. In fact, I downloaded pictures on my laptop to show you.”

  “Cool.”

  We lazily return. A large number of people are still out, surfers, families with kids, and others like us, soaking in the California lifestyle. I make a mental note to myself; a well-muscled man, perhaps in his mid-thirties, could be cause for concern, as I observed him walk by the house when Amadeus and I were on the deck earlier. A while later I noticed him go by again as we were walking away, and now once more, he’s sitting in the sand, appearing to delight in the sunset. His presence may be innocent enough, but I spotted him and that is good enough for me to file his face in my memory bank.

  Time gets away from us as we sit catching up, talking about nothing in particular. I glance down at my watch and realize that it is almost two in the morning.

  “Come on Zara, let me show you to your room. I know this has been a long day for you.”

  He shows me to the guestroom, which is next to his. He walks in ahead of me and turns on a lamp. He hesitates for a moment before taking me in his arms, leaning over he gently kisses me on the lips. We gaze at each other, as if uncertain how to proceed. This time he takes charge, nudging my lips apart with his as his tongue begins to probe and explore, an endless tangle of tongues and lips that leave me breathless. I wrap my arms around him as the kiss becomes fervent. I eagerly respond, kissing him back, wanting more. The moment ends with him holding me, one hand grasped behind my head. Frustrated he holds on then slowly releases his grip.

  “I’m sorry, Zara, but I can‘t hide my feelings, no I won‘t hide my feelings anymore.”

  “Don‘t apologize. I don‘t want you to.”

  “It’s late. We both need to get some sleep. I’m so glad you’re here. I’m in the next room if you need anything.” He kisses me before turning and walking out.

  “Amadeus?” I walk toward the door and his muscular body reappears.

  “Yeah?” he asks, those incredible blue eyes draw me into his trance.

  I can’t open my mouth, the sexual tension between us is so thick. My eyes can’t leave his. He’s so close I believe I may smother. “I, uh, I just wanted to say good night.” God Zara, what a crock, I tell myself. You want him so bad you aren’t making sense.

  He cocks his head, curiously eyeing me, very aware of the underlying current, looking down at me. “Baby, you have no idea how much I want you. It’s taking every ounce of control I have to stand here and act like a gentleman when what I really want to do is gather you in my arms, throw you on the bed and fuck you senseless.”

  Our eyes are still locked. I detect him drawing in a deep breath, not touching, just staring down at me.

  I slowly raise my arms around his neck and pull myself closer, whispering in his ear, “Don’t hold back on my account.” Our mouths meet, devouring each other. Placing his hands on my rear to lift me, I throw my legs around his waist. He carries me to the bed, laying me in the middle. Together we rip off our clothes as fast as we can. He bends over and kisses me, moving his tongue along my neck to my ear, whispering, “Spread your legs for me baby.” He eases himself between them as he pushes into me slowly, relentlessly. I gasp as his sheer size stretches me to accommodate him.


  “God baby, I’ve waited so long for this.” He raises up on his elbows staring down at me, groaning. “You feel so fucking good.”

  I raise my hips to accommodate him. “Are we really together A?”

  “Yes, baby, I’m here forever.” He runs his hand down my body, then under my ass, bringing himself even deeper. He plunges in again, harder, sinking deeper each time.

  I feel my body pulsing with his, unable to prevent or control what is happening. “I need you, God, yes, Amadeus please….”

  Opening my eyes, he’s staring down at me as he slides a hand between us. “Come with me, baby.”

  The rest is a blur of ecstasy and pleasure like I have never felt before. I feel him drive as deep as he can releasing his seed deep into the abyss of my womb. This single act changes our relationship forever.

  Wrapping his arms around me, and dragging me against his chest, the two of us cling to each other.

  “Zara, that was incredible.” He bends over, and we kiss slowly.

  “Mmmm.” I feel tears well up in my eyes and he takes notice, pulling my hair away from my face.

  “You okay baby?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. But the tears start flowing and I can’t stop them.

  “Zara, come on tell me,” he says. His face is etched with concern.

  “What the hell is wrong with us, Amadeus? Why have we been so stupid hiding our feelings for each other?” He pulls me back against him once more.

  “That’s in the past now, baby. Let’s put it behind us and work on the present and our future, okay?”

  “Yes. I am sorry for keeping a wall between us for so long. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” I feel his arms tighten. I kiss his chest, looking up at him.

  “Be careful what you promise, love, because I will take you up on it.” He chuckles, pulling me closer.