I sat on my second-hand sofa that evening, eating cheese on toast and flipping through the binder that Walter had given me. It contained not only Kyle’s schedule, but a wealth of other information. Publicity shots and articles about Parallel Destiny were crammed into plastic sleeves, and there was a list of names, phone numbers, and addresses included at the back.
The band members’ biographies were there, too; the drummer and lead guitarist were twins, and I wondered when I’d have the chance to meet them. Tasha – or more accurately, Natasha White – was the female lead singer. Parallel Destiny was originally a four-piece rock band, but since she’d joined them two years ago, she’d been a popular addition. Her sweet soprano voice blended beautifully with Kyle’s dark baritone.
I knew this because there had been a CD tucked into the binder’s back cover. I listened to it that night and found that I actually recognised most of their songs. My ex-boyfriend, Adam, had played their music when he was running on the treadmill he’d set up in our living room. When we were together, that is.
My phone started vibrating, a familiar ringtone floating up from the low cardboard box I was using as a coffee table. I took off my glasses and sighed.
Speak of the devil, and he will appear.
“What do you want, Adam?”
“Hey, baby.” His voice was smooth and unruffled. As if he hadn’t spent most of our two years together cheating on me with groupies. “Been thinking about you.”
I still didn’t know why I bothered keeping his number in my phone. Or why I hadn’t blocked it when I’d finally managed to dump him six months back.
“I think you’ve got the wrong number,” I said tightly. “There’s no one here named baby.”
“I’ve missed you, Charlotte,” he said softly, and my heart broke all over again. Then I remembered cleaning up our condo and finding a woman’s thong in the bedroom. It hadn’t been mine. “Can I take you to dinner? I’d really like to see you again.”
I sighed. “No, Adam,” I said. “It’s over. It was over the minute you cheated on me.” It had just taken me a stupidly long time to figure that out.
“Oh, come on, Firecracker,” he murmured, and I cringed at his use of the pet name. It had been based on a song he’d once written for me as an apology. “You know we’re good together.” He chuckled. “I wrote a little something for you. Don’t you want to hear it?”
I bit my lip. I couldn’t even begin to describe the feelings that flooded my heart when he wrote music for me. It was such an intimate thing, and whenever he’d written me another song, I felt like the most precious woman in the world.
That was before I’d caught him in our bed with one of his groupies. The last straw.
“Not especially,” I lied. “Look, I have work to do. And it’s over, Adam. I’m not coming back.”
Again.
I could hear the smile in his voice. “I need my muse, baby. And a muse needs an artist.”
Don’t do it, Charlie. You worked too hard to get away.
I glanced down at the binder in my lap and thought of Kyle’s gorgeous blue eyes. His broad chest and strong hands. The feel of his mouth on mine. Why did I always end up falling for a musician’s charms? Even when I didn’t know he was a musician.
“You’ll have to find inspiration somewhere else, Adam,” I said coldly. “I’m hanging up now. I have to work in the morning.”
“Firecra –”
I hung up on him. My hands were shaking as I punched in my sister’s number. She answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Charlie!” Her voice was so bright and cheerful that I immediately felt better. “What’s going on, girl?”
“Hey, Sam.” I took a deep breath. “Just wanted to say hello.”
There was a pause, and I heard her lighting up a cigarette. “Bullshit,” she said, and laughed. “Is that asshole still calling you?”
Samantha wasn’t just my sister. She was my best friend, and the one I could talk to about everything. Even my incredible one-night stand with Kyle hadn’t been off the table. She knew me well enough to recognise the slightest quiver in my voice.
I slumped back on the couch. “Yes,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “He wrote another song for me.”
Samantha snorted. “Are you sure it was for you?” She sucked on her cigarette. “Because he’s certainly got a lot of material to draw from.” I heard her blow smoke into the phone. “No offence, kiddo.”
I smiled. Samantha always knew just what to say, whether she realised it or not. “None taken,” I said. “In fact, that’s exactly what I needed to hear.”
She laughed again. “Glad I could help.” She took another drag of her cigarette. I’d tried to convince her to quit, but she’d always resisted me. Eventually I just gave up. It was her life, and I loved her too much to change her. “What’s new in your little world, kiddo?”
I looked down at the binder again. Where did I even begin?
“Five hundred bucks a day?” she squealed, once I’d finished telling her about my new gig. “Charlie, that’s amazing! You’ll be out of that hellhole in no time!”
I thought wistfully about the beautiful condo I’d had to vacate the day after I’d accidentally thrown water on Kyle. Now, I was living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment, with a kitchen the size of a cereal box and a bathroom that could barely contain the toilet, shower, and sink. I’d had to sell my piano to pay for the first and last month’s rent, and it hurt more than I could say.
“I’m hopeful,” I said. “There’s just a small problem with the job.”
She laughed. “Kiddo, any job that pays five hundred a day doesn’t have problems. It has opportunities. Unless the boss is a total skeeze.”
I looked up at the ceiling. There were many words to describe Kyle Chase – most of them verging on erotic – but that wasn’t one of them.
“Do you remember when I called you and told you about my one-night stand?” I said.
Samantha sucked in a breath. “Oh, I remember. He sounded hot. And you needed it, whatever personal rules you set for yourself.” She was constantly teasing me about my rigid personal code. Sometimes it actually helped me see that I was at risk of turning into our mother.
“Yeah, well,” I said, clearing my throat. “He’s kind of my new boss.” There was silence on the other end of the line. A long silence. “Sam? Sam, are you there?”
“Are you going to fuck him again?” she finally said.
“No!” My cheeks started burning. “No. He’s already involved with his female lead.” There’d been several magazine articles in Walter’s binder about Kyle’s relationship with Natasha. Apparently they’d been a couple for quite a while. “So apparently he’s no better than Adam.”
Samantha clicked her tongue. “Musicians, right?” she said. I laughed weakly and nodded, though she couldn’t see me. “You gotta find yourself an accountant or something, kiddo.”
I laughed again. “Maybe when this job is done,” I said, smiling. “You can drag me out to one of your clubs and we’ll let our hair down.”
“Oh, I like the sound of that!” She laughed, too. “Look, I gotta run, Charlie, but call me the minute you’re free for a night. We’ll party like it’s nineteen ninety-nine.”
“It’s a deal. Talk to you later, Sam.”
“Bye, kiddo.” She hung up and I smiled down at the phone, feeling better than I had in months. Now, if only I could get myself out of this awful apartment, everything would be roses again. Five hundred dollars a day – plus expenses – was definitely going to help me reach that goal. As long as I could stop thinking about Kyle Chase as anything more than my new boss.
As I locked my apartment door the next morning, I promised myself I’d forget about my one-night stand with Kyle. I hadn’t planned to ever see him again, and after he’d left that day, I’d thrown myself into cleaning and packing the last of my stuff. But I couldn’t help remembering the warmth of his goodbye hug. The feel of his powerful body thrusting against me in the hall. The way he’d kissed me at the piano. His kisses were beyond anything I’d ever felt, and part of me wanted that feeling back.
The other part knew that this was my last chance to make the kind of money I needed to get on my feet again. In the six months since I’d gone freelance, I never thought I’d be so desperate as to be a personal assistant for a man I’d basically had a one-night stand with.
Kyle’s house was modestly-sized – for a family of six. For one person, it was a monstrosity in white stone. As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed that the landscaping was expertly done. He must have a contract with someone. I’d have to get that information from him soon; every little piece could help me manage his time. But today, we’d have to figure out where his worst wastes of time were, and correct them.
The dusky woman who answered my knock was probably in her sixties, with grey hair done up in a tight bun and eyes that said she wouldn’t stand for any bullshit. This would be Priscilla Emerson; I’d read about her in the binder, and I liked her instantly. She’d be a valuable ally in keeping Kyle on track, as long as I could get her to warm up to me.
“He’s upstairs,” she said with disgust, looking at her watch. It was exactly eight o’clock. “I think he’s still asleep.”
I frowned. “Not for long,” I said, and she smiled a little viciously. She pointed me towards the winding staircase.
“Third door on the left,” she said, closing the front door. “Don’t bother knocking. He doesn’t answer.”
I snorted softly and took the stairs two at a time. There wasn’t much on his schedule for the day, but if he was anything like my ex, he’d need at least an hour to put himself together.
Musicians and their vanity. It made my teeth ache.
I threw open the bedroom door and squinted into the room. It was decorated in white, almost blinding against the light that streamed in through the tall windows. Kyle was lying on his back on the king-sized bed, completely naked. I could see now that his tattoos went from his wrists all the way up to his shoulders. There was a tribal-style dragon clawing its way along his right arm, and his left was inked with music notes, and both treble and bass clefs on a staff. And there was that heart on the inside of his forearm, of course. His gorgeous body was the only bit of colour in the room, and it was harder to look away than I’d expected.
‘More difficult’, Charlie; not ‘harder’. Watch what you say around this one.
I stepped into the room and kicked the mattress. Kyle groaned and shifted. He raised his head and blinked sleepily at me.
“Get up, Kyle,” I snapped.
He closed his eyes, dropped his head back onto the pillow, and reached down to grab his morning erection. Even in his hand, it was big. In mine, it had been huge.
“Oh, I’m up,” he said, and snickered softly.
I clapped a hand to my forehead and groaned. When would I learn?
He rolled off the bed and shuffled to the en suite. I tried not to notice the way his muscles rippled when he moved, and failed spectacularly. I was already feeling that ache between my legs again. So much for not thinking about our one-night stand.
I tried to distract myself by studying the room, but there really wasn’t much to see. Every piece of furniture, from the tall dresser to the low bed, was gleaming white. The bedsheets were white; the curtains were white; even the carpet was the colour of driven snow. It looked like he’d sent someone with monochrome vision to Ikea with an AmEx black card.
I opened my day planner and scanned the information I’d written there.
“Tyler is coming over at ten to work on lyrics.” I spoke loudly in order to be heard over the toilet, and the running of the faucet. “Then you have another four songs to write. And rehearsal is at three.”
He peeked out of the bathroom. “Is that all?” he asked drily.
I ignored his tone. “Yes,” I said firmly. “Except that somewhere in between, we’re going to sit down and find out exactly where you waste your time.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” he said, emerging from the bathroom. He was still half-erect, and I forced myself to look at his face. He obviously hadn’t shaved in a few days, and the light brown stubble on his strong chin was indescribably sexy. He crossed over to the bed and threw himself down. “I spend most of it doing this.” He grabbed himself and started stroking back and forth with slow, steady movements. The look on his face aroused me and infuriated me in equal parts.
Maybe a little more of one than the other.
I rolled my eyes. “Well, that explains a lot,” I said. I pulled out a pen and pretended to scribble it down in my planner.
His voice was surprisingly soft. “Make sure you write that I think about you while I’m doing it.” I snapped my head up and stared at him, but with that cocky grin plastered on his face, I couldn’t tell if he was joking. “You wanna join me?” He winked. “Again?”
“Have you no shame?”
He shook his head and stroked himself faster, his fingers tightening. His breathing was a little more laboured. “None at all,” he managed between breaths.
I blushed deeply and looked away. “Well, make it quick,” I mumbled.
“Oh, that’s right,” he said. He groaned softly. “You like it fast and hard.”
He was technically my boss, but if he wanted to play it that way, I could give as good as I got.
“It’s probably all you’re capable of,” I shot back, and he laughed. “Now hurry up and get your ass down to the music room.”
He groaned again, his cock flexing in his hand. “You’re a real slave driver, aren’t you?” He swiped his thumb across the head, spreading precum over his shaft. “I think I like it when you boss me around.” He thrust his hips up, against his fist, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from moaning. “As long as I get to do it back,” he added. The grin was gone, now, and he was looking hungrily at me. His eyes were glazed over with lust, and I could feel a wetness starting in my panties.
I finally found the strength to back away. “Downstairs. You have an hour.” I turned on my heel and practically ran out of the room, slamming the door behind me. His throaty laughter followed me down the stairs as I cursed my traitorous body.
No amount of money was worth this.