by Layla Hagen
“Because this is the first time Brayden’s losing, and I have you to thank for that. He’s been bragging for years about being unbeatable. I’m going to remind him about this evening every time he starts again.”
“You’re cruel, but I’d do the exact same thing.” I chuckled.
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. My brothers kept singing their own praises about never losing at card games, and then I kept inviting over friends who were better and would beat them.”
Lars threw his head back, laughing. “You’re good people, Isabelle.”
I took that as a sign he was at least toying with the idea of collaborating. Surely if half the band was on my side, the others would get on board with this eventually.
As the evening progressed, the assignment became more tempting. It was so different from what I typically did. The corporate clients I’d worked for mostly asked me to do psychological profiling of their buyers, which was somewhat dry. And in my practice, my clients were unloading the difficulties in their lives, be it a divorce, dating troubles, career change, and so on. Working with the band in the capacity Sasha was expecting would require a whole other skill set applied in a fun and creative way.
“My turn,” Lars exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “Wish me luck.”
“No can do. I’m cheering for Brayden, remember?”
He tapped his temple before pointing at me. “And helping him lose. This is a fantastic evening.”
I laughed, watching the guys give each other shit. I wondered how much of this side of them their fans saw, this playful competitive banter. I could watch some of their interview footage to get an idea.
Since it was going to take a while until Brayden’s turn came, I headed to the bar, this time ordering a cocktail.
“I thought you were a lightweight,” Brayden said from behind me as the bartender disappeared in the back for more ice.
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “That’s true.”
“But I’ve asked the bartender to go light on the alcohol. I’m celebrating. Lars isn’t considering me a mortal enemy anymore.” I smiled, mesmerized by those green eyes of his.
“Why?”
“Because he thinks I’m bringing you bad luck.”
“He always could see the best in everything.”
“So he’s the group’s optimist?” I asked.
“Never thought about it like that.”
“I’m trying to get a feel for the group dynamics.”
“What do you have so far?”
I pulled two fingers over my mouth in a zipping gesture. “Nope. My lips are sealed until I have more info. Wouldn’t want to draw the wrong conclusions.”
“That would be a shame, right?” he asked with a seductive smile. Brayden rested an elbow on the counter, watching me closely. “You’re a puzzle, Isabelle. I’ll enjoy figuring you out.”
I swallowed hard, averting my gaze.
“Who says I’m taking the assignment?”
“We both know you will.”
“So you’re demanding and cocky.”
“Is that your official conclusion?”
“No. So far just unofficial observations.”
“I can’t wait to hear more.”
***
I arrived home shortly after midnight and went straight to bed, not even bothering to take a shower or remove my makeup. What an evening! Brayden’s team lost, and Lars had warmed up to me a bit. I wasn’t sure about Thomas and Harvey; they stayed aloof, so I couldn’t get a good read on either.
I opened a window for a bit of fresh air before slipping under my covers. I was exhausted, but somehow I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep quickly. My mind was all over the place thinking about the night; it was crazy to think I might be working with this hot band—my brothers would be all over it. I tried closing my eyes, taking in deep breaths, and feeling myself doze, right until my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I glanced over to read the text.
Did you get home safe?
It was from a number I hadn’t saved.
Isabelle: Who is this?
The answer came immediately: Guess ;)
Isabelle: Brayden? How do you have my number?
Brayden: From Sasha.
Isabelle: Thanks for checking on me. I’m home, already in bed.
Brayden: We didn’t finish our conversation.
I smiled, phone now in hand as I wiggled back under the covers. I’d expected him to call me out on it, but not this fast.
Isabelle: I need some time for the information to marinate in my mind before deciding if I’m taking the assignment.
He didn’t reply, and I thought he’d drop it... but then he called me.
I hesitated a bit before answering, sort of wanting to get dressed. Which was ridiculous because he wouldn’t know I was naked under the covers.
“By more time, I didn’t mean one minute,” I teased.
“Well, no, but I figured you might need more information.”
How could he sound even sexier on the phone? It wasn’t fair.
“True, that’s always helpful. Wait a second, I’ll close the window. The streets are loud tonight with all the sirens and cars.”
“Why did you move to New York?”
I was surprised by the question, but I was always happy to answer it.
“I love the city, always have. I’m from a small town in Montana, and I went to college in Philly. Stayed there after graduation but always dreamed of moving to New York. Small-town dream and all that. We used to do vision boards in school, and half the class wanted to move here. You’re from a small town too, in Oregon, right? So you probably know what I’m talking about.”
“I do. I came here for college. It was such a rush in the beginning. But after the band became known, things changed.”
“I can imagine.”
“What do you like most about the city?”
“Oh, everything, but it really is a heaven for foodies.” Tess and Skye Winchester were my soul sisters in that regard. They showed me their favorite eating spots, and that gave me a good head start. Ever since, my list of favorite food places had grown by leaps and bounds.
I yawned, and Brayden laughed softly. “Go to bed, Isabelle. We can talk tomorrow.”
“Oh, okay. Listen, I had fun tonight, but I’m not sure about the assignment. I don’t like to butt in where I’m not wanted.”
“You’re very wanted, Isabelle. Good night.”
Chapter Three
Isabelle
The next morning, I received an email from Sasha informing me that the whole band was ready to give this a try. Well, well. I wondered if Brayden used his persuasion skills on his bandmates, or if this was Sasha’s work.
She also sent more information about the assignment. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to leaf through it all because I’d scheduled clients back-to-back. I slowly realized that I’d have to work weekends and evenings if I took on GreenFire, because there was no way I’d cancel on any of my clients. I couldn’t do that to them. For most, it took a lot to open up and develop trust in someone, and I didn’t want them to have to go through it again with another therapist. I cared too much to let that happen.
My office was in a high-rise in Brooklyn, on the seventh floor. It was a nice building with a doorman and a reception area. Despite having five elevators, they were always full. I loved my office. I had a small waiting area with two chairs and a coffee table with magazines. The office itself was small, with a desk, and two vintage chairs opposite me. Mine was all leather, next to a golden bow lamp to light up the space.
I didn’t check my phone during my morning sessions, planning to read through everything during lunch. I had a fifteen-minute break for a quick sandwich.
Devouring a pastrami on rye from the local deli while scrolling on my phone, I found I had messages from both Sasha and Brayden.
Sasha: Let me know if you like the package. We’d like to get the ball rolling as soon as possible.
Brayden: Did S
asha get in contact with you?
I grinned at my phone, choosing to answer Sasha first. I would have preferred to have had a few days to consider it, but I could tell they didn’t want to wait, and I wasn’t going to waste their time.
Isabelle: I only glanced at it, but I’ll reply in the evening, I promise.
I tapped the conversation with Brayden next.
Isabelle: Yes, she sent an email saying the band wants to collaborate. Was this your doing?
Brayden: Obviously.
I laughed, holding the phone closer as I responded.
Isabelle: Why?
Brayden: I think the band needs you. And it’ll be fun for you.
I thought so too, and I was looking forward to it. Time-wise it would be a challenge, but the project was right up my alley. I didn’t want to give them a hasty response though. First, I wanted to read the info Sasha had sent me.
Isabelle: I’ll tell Sasha as soon as I make up my mind. This evening probably.
Brayden: But you can tell me now.
The corners of my mouth tilted upward. Oh, he was good, but I was no slouch in the banter department.
Isabelle: And why would I give you any special treatment?
Brayden: Because Lars was right... just not in the way he thinks. I didn’t lose because you brought me bad luck. I lost because I was too captivated by you.
Oh my God. I wasn’t expecting that. My whole body hummed deliciously. Ever since moving to New York, my dating life had slowed down considerably. In the beginning I was too busy to even miss it. In the past few months, I’d gone on a few dates, mostly with guys I met online, but nothing panned out. Neither made me feel even 10 percent of what Brayden was doing to me. I couldn’t even understand it, but I honestly wasn’t even going to try. He and I lived in different worlds, I was very well aware. These flirty messages weren’t going to lead anywhere, but I sure as hell planned to enjoy them while I could. I’d never had a strong relationship, at least not the kind Mom and Dad had, or Josie and Hunter. I’d dated plenty in Philly, but I’d never found the one. Not that I was worried. It would happen when the time was right.
Brayden: I think I deserve some insider info.
I wrote and deleted two replies before hitting Send.
Isabelle: I don’t think so. If anything, Lars deserves it.
Brayden: How do you figure?
I was laughing now, so lost in our conversation that I forgot to even bite into my sandwich.
Isabelle: Just seems fair. Besides, I like to tease you.
Brayden: I’m starting to get that.
Isabelle: My break is finishing. I’ll keep in touch. But no insider info for you.
Brayden: We’ll see.
Laughing, I put my phone to one side or I’d never finish the sandwich before the next client arrived.
***
In the evening, I read Sasha’s email on the way home and replied that I’d be taking the assignment. I lived in the Parkchester neighborhood in the Bronx. My apartment was in a lovely redbrick building with an old-world charm.
I made myself a quick frozen pizza for dinner, because even foodies had to cut corners after a long day of work. To my astonishment, Sasha messaged me back quickly.
Sasha: Perfect. I’ll email you the contract and you can sign electronically. I’d like to start ASAP. One of the guys volunteered to drop by your office in the evening so you can start with the psychological profiles. When’s a good time for you?
Wow, she moved fast.
Isabelle: I can do it tomorrow evening.
Sasha: Perfect.
Isabelle: Who’s the volunteer?
I was pretty certain I knew the answer, but I wanted her confirmation. My breath caught anyway when she replied.
Sasha: Brayden.
***
The next evening, I was slightly nervous as I wrapped up the consultation with my last client. I’d sort of expected Brayden to message me today, perhaps to tease me about something, but he’d been completely silent, which was putting me even more on edge.
Sasha had asked if she could contact the building’s reception to make sure Brayden could come up with no issue, and I gave her the green light.
I walked my last client out of the consultation room and into the waiting area and was stunned when I noticed a man there. He had his back to us, inspecting the photo of the Brooklyn Bridge. He also had a baseball cap on; was that so no one would recognize him? When did he get in?
“Anna, I’ll see you next time. Kiss Lindsay for me,” I said. Anna was more family than client. Her brother was married to Skye Winchester. She was recovering from a messy divorce, and I was happy she’d reached out to me. I adored her daughter, Lindsay, and was eager to help them both in any way I could.
“I will. Thanks, Isabelle. You always make me feel at ease. You’re a good friend.”
I opened the door, and Brayden remained with his back to me as Anna stepped out, closing the door behind her. Then he turned around, taking off his cap and training his gaze on me.
Oh, my.
“Hey, how did you get in?” I asked.
“Sasha contacted reception, and they gave me the code for your door.”
“No one recognized you?”
“No, they brought me in through a back entrance.”
“And in the elevator?”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “I took the stairs.”
“Wow. That’s seven floors.”
“I know, trust me. My bodyguard is also here, outside the door.”
It was surreal having him here. He was larger than life somehow, fitting in perfectly on stage or at the bowling alley.
“What kind of therapy do you specialize in?” he asked, glancing around.
“I wouldn’t say I specialize in something in particular. But most clients do seem to come to me due to relationship problems, be it with family, or friends, or dating.” He looked at me questioningly, so I continued, “My degree is in counseling.”
“And you give them advice?”
“I help them find the answers. Deep down, they almost always know it, but sometimes we resist following our intuition.”
He curled his lips upward. “That’s right, we do. Why is that?”
I shrugged, unnerved by the way he looked at me. “Various reasons. Sometimes doing what we want would imply a huge change. Mostly we’re just not ready for what we want.”
His smile grew more pronounced, and God, the way he looked at me was too much.
“Are you in a relationship?” he asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Well, turns out dating in New York isn’t for the faint of heart.”
“So you date,” he stated in a tone that made it clear he didn’t approve.
“Yes. Why do you sound so accusatory, Mr. Rock Star? According to the tabloids, you’re quite the serial dater.”
“Not right now.” He was watching me with an intensity that made my knees weak. “You?”
I turned around, busying myself with arranging the brochures on the entrance table into a stack.
“Why are you asking?” I inquired. I felt the warmth of his body behind me as he approached.
“Don’t you know?”
I turned around, trying to get a good read on him, but it was impossible. My whole body was on alert, my mind completely clouded.
“Do you want to grab dinner somewhere? We don’t have to stay in the office for me to do the profile. There are lots of trendy places around here you might enjoy.”
His smile dimmed. “How about we order in? I rarely go to places that Sasha didn’t contact beforehand. Fans tend to crowd in on me. It’s not a pleasant experience, even with a bodyguard around.”
“That’s right. Sure, we can look at delivery services.” I pulled out my phone and opened my favorite app, narrowing down the filters to this area of Brooklyn before handing him the phone.
“Here, I’ve ordered from most of these. They’re all good.”
“Is that your official foodie verdict?”
“Yes.”
While he checked out the menus on my phone, I couldn’t help but ask, “Doesn’t it feel strange to live in this bubble?”
“Bubble?” He frowned. “I suppose you could call it that. It’s the only life I’ve known for the past ten years. I’ve gotten used to it. That’s not to say I don’t do spontaneous things, just that I prefer to know the coast is clear.”
“I can’t imagine that at all. I like the freedom of going where I want whenever I want,” I said with a laugh. “So, did you decide on dinner?”
“Yes. I want one of each of these.” He pointed to three of the tasting menus.
“Someone’s really hungry,” I teased as I tapped the screen, adding everything to the basket. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him lean in, and then his cologne invaded my senses.
“I am. Not for food but for the company.”
Was he flirting? Or did he simply long for company because he was living such a secluded life? Licking my lips, I focused on the screen, finalizing the order at a Thai restaurant.
“There, we’re getting dinner in twenty minutes,” I announced. “You’re going to like it. I recommend it to everyone on my tours.”
“What tours?”
“Oh, I’m also a tour guide once a week.”
“How come?”
“When I first moved to New York, I didn’t have many clients, so I needed the extra income. Now my roster is full enough, but I still like to do the tours. I meet so many interesting people, and every time I’m with a group, I see New York from a different perspective.”
“You’re fascinating.”
“I’m glad you think so.” I showed him inside my office, because there was a bit more space here for both of us to relax and sit. “Do you want us to start the profiling now?”
“Sure.” He seemed completely at ease, sinking into the chair with his boot heel hanging over his knee.
“By the way, Sasha insists on using that word, but it’s mostly a list of your likes and dislikes. Nothing as elaborate as what you’d see on a crime show on TV.” He smiled at that, and I almost forgot what I was going to say. “It’s a tool to help us decide what you could share with fans that wouldn’t make you uncomfortable and that they’d also appreciate. But it has to be authentic. Fans can feel when you’re sharing stuff just for the sake of it, or when you’re showing them something you’re comfortable with or passionate about.”