by Eden Summers
Too bad they couldn’t play nice. When he found out she was willing to work with him again, he’d had every intention of being a polite host. He even hoped they could leave the past where it belonged, or better yet, conquer her misconceptions and regain their friendship. Now, he was thinking it would be a bonus if she didn’t stab him in his sleep.
Stepping outside, the frigid night air sunk under his skin even before his motion sensor lights turned on, blinding in their brightness. As he blinked to adjust his vision, the sounds of his dogs’ panted breaths and ambling feet made him snap to attention. “Shit.”
He dropped the suitcase and slid in front of Sidney, blocking her path. She squeaked in his ear, her hands pressing against his shoulders as she bumped into his back.
“Stop!” The dogs continued to run toward them, not obeying until they barreled into him in a mass of wagging tails and hanging tongues. “For fuck’s sake, sit down!”
Reluctantly, they obeyed, their ears drooping as the two chocolate Labradors sat on his feet, their pleading eyes blinking up at him. They began to whimper, the high-pitched noise grating on his nerves while they eagerly eyed Sidney.
“It’s OK.” She squeezed past him. “I’m good with dogs.”
“Maybe not so good when they ruin your designer suit,” he muttered.
She ignored him, stepping toward his mutts with an outstretched set of knuckles for them to sniff.
“That’s Willow.” He indicated the slightly smaller dog on the left, her tail wagging harder, her whole ass swishing from side to side. “If you’re staying in the pool house you might want to remember their names. They’ll forever be at your door, or following you wherever you go.”
“Hello, beautiful girl.”
Willow didn’t need a cursory sniff to be won over. She nudged her nose against Sidney’s fingers, demanding a pat while her sister began to whine louder. “And this is Shadow.”
Sidney focused on the other dog, paying her the same attention. “When did you get them?” she asked, then frowned as if she regretted continuing the conversation.
“A little under two years ago.” Straight after the sex scandal.
He watched his girls become enamored, lapping up every ounce of attention. He didn’t have the option of bringing them with him when his work took him outside Richmond. So when he was home, they clung to him like shit on a shoe. “I did an overhaul on my security, both here and in my New York apartment.” He’d already had the electronic gate at the front of the property, but he added video surveillance, a security system with motion sensitive lights, and his two babies to guard against unwanted intruders.
“Getting paranoid in your old age…”
“It’s not paranoia when people break into your home.” He met her gaze, and his heartbeat quickened. A part of him stood on edge, wanting her to ask what had happened. For her to show she still cared.
Her features softened, the hatred briefly leaving her hazel irises. Her lips parted, and just when he thought he would get what he needed, she sucked in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and then grabbed the handle of her suitcase. “Do I go this way?”
She pointed across the pool, and he followed the direction of her hand, breaking eye contact to avoid showing his disappointment. Before the sex scandal, Sidney would’ve bathed him in concern. Now…not so much.
“Yeah.” He jerked his head toward the direction of the small building with the lights glowing through the curtains. “Skirt the pool, and hope to hell the dogs don’t push you in.”
Her lips twitched. Had she been about to smile? For him? Before he could scrutinize her further, she strode forward, wheeling the suitcase along behind her.
“I can take your case.”
“No need.” The snarkiness was back in full force.
Awesome.
Willow and Shadow followed at her heels, eager and obedient while he rushed to open the glass pool gate. “Girls, go to bed.”
They ignored him, happily wagging their tails as their paws clicked along the sandstone tiles.
Sidney laughed with ridicule. “I have to admit, I’m glad every female doesn’t come running when you call.”
You used to. He bit his tongue, not wanting to get into another argument. Next time he wouldn’t take the high road and accept her bullshit attitude. If she growled at him again, he’d be hitting her with a bucket of cold reality.
They walked in silence, nothing but the excited whine of his dogs and the clink of the latch when he opened the pool gate on the far side of the fenced area. Sidney stalked ahead, coming to a halt at the front door of the small separate dwelling.
“It should be open,” he called.
Like a lifeline, she lunged for the handle, quickly dragging her case behind her. When he reached the entrance, she was already positioned in the doorway, blocking his passage.
“I’ll show you around.”
“No need.” Her smile was fake as she batted her dark lashes at him.
He raised a brow, ignoring the way his ego growled at her dismissal. “I’ll order dinner and have it ready in the dining room in half an hour.”
“I’m not hungry.” She started closing the door, and Shadow pawed the wood in protest. “I’ll see you bright and early in your studio tomorrow.”
Annoyance hammered in his skull. He’d been ignored by her once before, and his life turned to shit because of it. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
“Sorry. I don’t work weekends. I thought Leah would’ve mentioned that.” He didn’t know where the lie came from, but he was running with it. The way her mouth dropped open was well worth the bad karma he just earned.
The door halted, and her eyes darkened. “Excuse me?”
Oh, yeah, wildcat. I can bite too. “I work my ass off touring for months. During the downtime, I relax on weekends, unless I’m performing.” He returned her fake smile, not giving a shit that he could see her pulse pounding at the low of her neck. “So there’s no need to meet me in the studio until Monday. Enjoy your weekend.”
She blinked slowly, comprehension dawning on her pretty face. Yep, it was Friday night. She had two days before they set foot inside his studio.
The door flung open, his dogs retreating as Sidney took a menacing step forward, trying to act domineering in her stiletto heels and tiny waist. “Since when have you not worked weekends?”
He shrugged. She was so fucking hot when riled. He wanted to possess her. To claim her mouth and her body. To wipe the sass from her lips, and make her whimper. He also wanted to punch himself in the face for being so pussy whipped.
“Since now.” He slid backward, turning on his heels to head toward the house. “See you at dinner.”
“Mason.” Her tone was tight, almost pleading.
He stopped at the pool gate, his senses telling him he wouldn’t like what he saw if he turned to face her. She released a pained sigh, and the sound punched him in the gut. Hard.
“I can’t be here with you for that long.”
He gritted his teeth, hating the revulsion in her tone. Hating even more that he didn’t deserve it. “Then go home,” he muttered. “Come back on Monday.”
As he continued to the house, the ache in his chest increased. He didn’t want her to leave. Couldn’t stand the thought of someone who had once been his good friend now hating to be around him. But there was nothing he could do. She’d never given him the chance to explain how those intimate moments had been leaked to the public. And his pride demanded it was too late to beg her to listen.
SIDNEY LAY ON the pool house sofa, her sock covered feet on the armrest as she stared at the ceiling. Over forty minutes had passed since Mason dropped his not-working bombshell, and she was still here. Still on his multi-million dollar property, undecided on what to do.
She needed to vent her frustrations to Justin. To get the ‘I told you so’ over and done with so he could help her figure out what to do. Pressing the connect button on her cell for the third time, s
he listened to the ring tone, wondering when he would stop sulking and talk to her.
“I gather you survived the flight,” he said in greeting.
She smiled, letting his familiar voice reassure her. “Same ol’, same ol’.”
He chuckled. “So in other words, you popped those homoepathic stress lozengers like they were going out of manufacture.”
“I may or may not have consumed the entire container.” But that was mainly for the calming effect she needed to take hold once she arrived here.
“So, how is he?” he ended in a snarl.
Sidney paused, not sure how to broach the topic of Mason’s asshattery. “Feel free to say ‘I told you so.’”
“I told you so,” he drawled. “That bad, huh?”
“Apparently, he doesn’t work weekends. We won’t be starting on the album until Monday.”
Justin fell silent, the heavy sound of traffic echoing down the line. She waited, not sure if she was going to get the full I-told-you-so package, or the advice she desperately needed.
“Catch the next flight home.” His tone lowered, like it always did when he was trying to restrain himself. “You don’t need this.”
Yeah, she kinda did. That was the whole point of making the emotional journey. She had to be here. She didn’t have a choice. “I’m hoping I can convince him to change his mind. We didn’t exactly have a joyful reunion.”
“You’re delusional if that’s what you expected.”
Justin wasn’t wrong. She just wished she could dislodge the never-ending hope that she would one day glimpse the man she thought Mason had been. “I need you to tell me I’m doing the right thing. I need you to be supportive.”
“Sid,” her name was a warning.
“I know, I know. You love me. You’d do anything for me, but you can’t wish me well on this project after what Mason did.” She turned onto her side, tucking her legs to her chest.
“My speech was far more convincing than that.”
Yes, it was. It was also very thorough, touching on every topic from Mason’s sexual prowess, to how easily he’d stabbed her in the back, to the way she would never get rid of the stigma attached to the low-moraled rock band. But her counter argument about money always trumped.
“Just tell me you’ll be there for me if I fail.”
“Name one time when I haven’t.”
Her smile returned, half-hearted this time. “You know I can’t.”
“Exactly. I’m always looking out for you.”
Sidney winced as a car horn beeped loudly over the line.
“I’ve gotta go, Sid. Call me later if you need help to convince you to leave.”
“OK.” She disconnected the call and ran a hand through her loose hair.
If she left, she would have to return in two days, which meant spending hours rebuilding the fortitude to get back on the plane. Yet, two days in the lion’s den, without any work being achieved, would equate to an eternity in an emotional washing machine. Mason made her vulnerable. No other man had that ability. She’d never let another male leave her defenseless. Except her father. And funnily enough, they both let her down.
A knock sounded on the pool house door, startling her. She sat upright, placing her feet on the carpet as her heart took off on a gallop. She didn’t want to see him again—especially if she didn’t have to. He made her body hum, even when her mind tried to envision ways to inflict harm on every inch of his perfect skin.
“What do you want?” she called, with no intention of moving from the sofa.
Another thump sounded. “Open the door before I drop this.”
Damn it. She should’ve ignored him, should’ve said to hell with whatever he was carrying, but the manners she’d been brought up with came to the forefront, and in the next moment, she was slinking across the room, less than impressed with the time it took to convince her to run to him.
“What?” She flung the door open and cringed. He held a bag of takeout in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. The enticing scent of curry hit her senses, making her stomach growl and her mouth salivate. She remembered the local cuisine from her last visit. His favorite Indian restaurant had become hers the first moment their butter chicken had touched her tongue.
He raised a taunting brow, one which on further inspection didn’t match the other. “See, I knew you wouldn’t last until morning on airline food.”
He pushed past her, entering the pool house and trampling her confidence all at once. She stood rooted in place, unsure how to make him leave without encouraging another argument or losing the professionalism she was trying so hard to find. They couldn’t work together like this. If she had no control over her resentment, there would be no point staying. She wouldn’t be able to retract her claws long enough to enter a creative state of mind.
“I’m not hungry, Mason.” She spoke into the night, unable to turn back to the room and meet his gaze. He was too manipulative. His looks, the confidence in his stride, and the way he made her heart flutter turned her into something weak. Something she despised.
“Just sit down and eat.”
Her spine stiffened at his command. Didn’t he realize she was trying to protect herself? After all this time, the hurt of his betrayal still cut deep.
Slowly, she inhaled, filling her lungs with the cool night air before turning to fix him with a glare. “I told you, I’m not here to socialize. I’m here to work, and you won’t let me do that until Monday.”
He shrugged and continued to remove the plastic containers from the paper bag. “You’re still my guest. And besides, the food is already here. No point wasting it.”
No point wasting it, she mentally mimicked. Arrogant asshole. She wanted to put him in his place, to rub in his inability to complete the next Reckless Beat album in the hopes of wiping away the self-assured tilt of his brow. But it wouldn’t help, and she couldn’t bring herself to wound him with more hate filled words. It wasn’t who she was. All she could do was bite her tongue and hope to hell she didn’t hit her breaking point and stab him with a butter knife.
“Fine,” she snarled, slamming the door. Let’s get this over with. “We can talk business.”
She stalked to the small dining table, now adorned with open food containers. Her gaze tracked him as he strode to the kitchen, returning soon after with plates and cutlery. There was definitely something odd with his features. It had to be his eyebrows. She squinted at him, studying the space above his eyes. One brow was thicker than the other. “What happened to your face?”
He scowled, rubbing self-consciously at his forehead. “Nothing.”
She held in a grin at his discomfort. Finally, she had a ball back in her court. “No, there is definitely something up with your face. You look lopsided.” She tilted her head, over exaggerating her scrutiny.
“Do you want wine?” he growled, undoing the foil at the top of the bottle and popping the cork.
She’d hit a sore spot. Winner. If memory served, she could vaguely remember Justin sniggering over a gossip magazine who claimed the lead singer of Reckless Beat had been defaced at Mitchell Davies’ bachelor party.
“No, thanks.” She smiled. It may not be a monumental victory, but damn it felt good to see him squirm.
He reached for her wine glass and filled it anyway.
“I said, ‘no, thanks.’” His disregard flipped her raging bitchaholic switch. “I don’t drink anymore,” she gritted through clenched teeth. Truth was, she wouldn’t drink around men who weakened her defenses, namely, Mason Lynch. The last thing she needed was lowered inhibitions. She couldn’t handle a murder charge hanging over her head. Prison orange wouldn’t match her complexion.
“Really?” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Since when?”
His cocky confidence had returned, spiking her ire. Could nothing chink his abnormally high self-opinion? She placed her balled fists in her lap, unsure whether to voice the retort bouncing on the tip of her tongue. Act calm. B
e professional. You are not a child.
“I remember you having a fondness for Bailey’s.”
Count to ten. One. Two. Thr—. Fuck it! She couldn’t stand his arrogance a moment longer. “Yeah, I did,” she snapped. “Before someone I trusted took advantage of me while I was drunk.”
Tension swept into the room as Mason placed the bottle of Shiraz on the table and straightened. “I didn’t take advantage of you, wildcat.” His voice was smooth. Measured. The calm before an impending motherfucker of a storm. “You never asked me to stop. What we shared was consensual.”
“I’m not talking about the sex. I’m referring to you recording it.” She gripped the edge of the table in a white-knuckle grip. “You knew I didn’t want you to take that video.” He wasn’t entirely to blame. She should’ve said “no” rather than drowning in the lust he exuded, but he’d known she was uncomfortable. Then he went ahead and shared it with the world.
He scoffed. “I’m not a mind reader. Women do a lot of crazy shit in my bed.”
She stared in disbelief. Still no remorse? She couldn’t even see a glimmer of guilt. “You knew me,” she snarled.
Silence.
He focused on the take-out bag in the middle of the table, his gaze never wavering as his Adam’s apple bobbed. The air between them crackled, and every passing second made the anger inside her multiply. He was a jerk. A self-centered, arrogant, pompous jerk!
“All this time and you still can’t apologize,” she whispered, pushing from the table. Why the hell had she ever fallen for him?
As if he read her thoughts, he raised his focus, piercing her with pained eyes.
That was why. Those emotional chocolate irises had stolen her heart, and always spoke louder than his words ever could. And right now, she saw the remorse she coveted. But there was more. Staring back at her was a man filled with his own anger and misery.
None of it made sense. He had nothing to be angry about. She was the one who’d lost everything. Sean had been betrayed too. If anything, Mason’s career grew. His female fans had become rabid, eagerly announcing on social media that they wanted to get into his bed, while an increasing number of the male population wished they could walk in his shoes.
