If Arsen Ford could have one wish it would be to not have to do any promotional events ever again. Or at least not do them with Mickey present. Even though Arsen was not trying to hog the limelight on Tanya’s show, Mickey still tried to outdo him, being loud and extravagant and dropping tons of f-bombs on the way, much to Tanya’s pleasure. Arsen was sure that the episode would get great ratings, thanks to Mickey making a fool of himself.

But Tanya kept coming back to Arsen and kept asking him questions. At one point she even got some of the bystanders to dare Arsen to kiss her. She was attractive, rich, and Arsen had no doubt that her PR people as well as his would love nothing more than to turn them both into a celebrity couple. What was not to like about that? One of the biggest rockstars in the world and one rich heiress who was super keen to make her mark on the entertainment industry?

Arsen, however, was pissed when Tanya invited in some of the paparazzi for promo shots. She knew how to play the media and get the maximum leverage out of everything. Arsen was surprised that Mickey wasn’t making a play for her. Instead, he kept himself busy with that young girl—Rory’s friend. Arsen wondered where Rory was. He’d been looking around but hadn’t seen her anywhere.

Once the shoot ended in the wee hours of the morning, everyone snorted, smoked, or drank whatever they had to and jumped into the pool. Arsen asked Don if he had seen Rory, but even the old man had no idea where she was. The kind of person that she is, she probably left the party hours ago. Wish she would have said goodbye at least. Arsen was disappointed.

Her beautiful pale face had entered his mind plenty of times since the day he had left her house. That delicate jaw, fullness of her lips, moonlight of her smile, and most of all, those innocent eyes which burned with a courage that he had rarely seen. There was also a desperation, a vulnerability in those eyes that touched his heart. It made Arsen wonder what kind of life she led that taught her that she had to fight all her battles alone.

Meeting her was like finding an oasis in the middle of hell. After years of being surrounded by silicone-enhanced, anorexic models, Rory was a welcome surprise. She was a real woman—a caring, loving, genuine woman. Aside from the first night, each time they met she made him feel warm, bringing out a human side of him that he had long thought was dead.

He wanted to kiss her the moment he entered the room. Wanted to push her against the wall, grab her by the shoulders, and kiss her like she had never been kissed before. Like he had never kissed anyone before. He was surprised by the physical reaction that her presence brought about in his body. He would just think of her and he was hard and ready.

Beautiful, intelligent and kind—there was not much Arsen asked for in a woman. Rory was all that and more. Though he had met her only a handful of times, he could tell that about her. Nothing good had happened to him since he arrived in Montcove and now that it finally had, it was time for him to leave.

They were to depart Montcove the next day. The whole experiment had been an enormous failure. He hadn’t written the hit single that he was desperately trying to write. He had written nothing of note at all, and now he had to share an hour-long plane ride with Mickey and the rest of the guys. In that moment, it dawned on Arsen that if he couldn’t even tolerate them for an hour, how the heck were they supposed to go on a world tour without things going haywire?

Arsen shook his head and started walking back to the villa. There was packing to be done and he was not going to trust anybody else with his precious guitars. He always packed them himself. The noise from the party grew dimmer and dimmer till it disappeared totally.

Before, Arsen hadn’t been sure about it, but after today he was. There was a strong moment between Rory and him that night. The kind of moment you don’t come across too often. But not never, he thought. It was the kind of spark that can keep you awake and make you write a hundred songs. But I haven’t written any so far. If there is a muse, she sure as hell isn’t showing up.

If Rory was in LA, this could’ve been something. I could’ve gotten to know her, could’ve shown her the real Arsen Ford, but for now, it’s nothing more than a vacation romance. The kind you have at summer camp when you’re a kid. The kind you fret over for a few days and then forget.

Or was it?

It was with these thoughts that Arsen Ford shut his eyes and tried to take a nap before he left the shores of Montcove for the mainland. There was a lot of work to be done in LA, and things were going to get hectic soon.