by Cari Quinn
Right now, the solace of sleep was welcome.
There was no thinking, no feeling.
“Dammit, Zoe.”
I soaped up and winced as I washed him away. The scent of him clung to me and I scrubbed harder.
He flicked the curtain away and stood there. “Eager to get me off your skin? To forget about me?”
I pushed my wet hair out of my face. “Yes, dammit.”
“Good fucking luck. I’ve been trying for weeks.” He took my soapy hand and pressed it against his chest. “You’re in here.” He dragged it down to his half-hard cock. “And add in what you do to him? There’s no denying it, Magic. You can hide all you want, but I’ve got your taste inside me. I’m not letting you go now.”
I pulled my hand away. I didn’t want to believe him. I couldn’t believe him. Not and stay sane. “Just go.”
“You know we’re good together. Our timing is fucked, but you know this isn’t over.”
I turned away from him, my hands shaking around my soapy washcloth. I rested my forehead against the tile when I heard the door shut.
“Goodbye, Ian.”
Eighteen
He was putting a stop to this shit once and for all.
Much better that he dealt with it head on rather than spending his life trying not to react to the latest soundbite about Ian.
And if he was a little pissy about it? Well, he was overdue.
Simon stepped up to the receptionist’s circular desk at Ripper Records and braced his fist on top. “I need to see Lila Crandall.”
The receptionist arched a slim brown brow. “Mrs. Crandall is in meetings for the foreseeable—”
“Look, I’m not the dude to pull rank, and I was trying not to, which is why I’m even going through you in the first place. I could text her and she’d buzz me upstairs, but I was trying to do this the right way.”
She pursed her lips and picked up her phone. A moment later, she told him to go to elevator two.
He didn’t look at the gold and platinum records that lined the walls as he walked up the hallway to the elevator. Nor did he stare at the glossy magazine rolled up in his fist. He’d memorized the small sidebar article already anyway.
It didn’t take long for him to reach Lila’s office. He stood outside her door and lifted his hand to knock, but her door swung inward before he could.
And he came face to face with his best friend.
Nick Crandall angled his head, his focus immediately dropping to the magazine Simon clutched. “Where’s the fire, Kagan?”
“I need to talk to Li.”
Nick crossed his arms and waited.
“You’re not her goddamn bodyguard. Can’t I speak to my manager without you running interference?” Simon nearly regretted his tone until Nick shoved him back a step.
“You better watch the attitude you come in here with. What is this?” Nick grabbed the magazine before Simon could block the move. Snake-quick reflexes, that was Nick.
Nick unfolded the magazine and scanned the page before locking his jaw. “This asshole again,” he muttered. “What the fuck is this?”
“What I came here to ask your wife.” Simon yanked the magazine back as Lila stepped into the doorway, her sharp heels clicking on the floor.
She did not seem surprised to see him.
“Simon, come inside. Nicholas, go do something. Like head down to studio B, your supposed reason for being here.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t argue. Just stared hard at Simon. “Lewis doesn’t always consult with her when he sets his little plots in motion. Remember that.” He turned to give Li a quick kiss before striding down the hall.
Simon met Lila’s gaze unflinchingly. “Is that true? You were unaware that Ian is now signed to Ripper Records?”
“I knew it before you arrived. I did not know it before the contracts were drawn up.”
“And if you had? Would you have fought on my behalf, or simply looked to cash in?”
Her bluebell eyes turned hard. “Come in my office. This is not a conversation to be held in the hallway.”
He followed her inside and barely checked the urge to slam the door.
This wasn’t Lila’s fault. Intellectually, he understood that. It wasn’t even Lewis’s doing. If Ian showed up and started to sing, what were they going to do? Turn him away out of some loyalty to Simon, who’d been on their roster for years?
Yes. That was exactly what he’d believed they would do—if his thoughts had even veered that far.
They hadn’t.
Other than preparing for the baby, he’d spent the couple of weeks upon their return from Europe mostly hibernating with his wife, trying to dodge phone calls from people wanting his take on Ian’s sudden metaphoric rise. There had even been questions about Ian’s heroics on the beach, asking if he was a proud older brother.
He couldn’t define his emotions right now, but pride wasn’t one of them.
“You want a drink?”
He snapped his gaze to Lila standing at the bar cart in her office and cocked an eyebrow. She knew full well how badly alcohol and his vocal cords mixed.
“Not alcohol.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Perrier, iced tea, soda?”
Shaking his head, he dropped into the chair opposite her desk. Instead of looking at the magazine again, he dumped it into her circular bin. He’d seen enough of that dude’s smug mug for a lifetime.
Christ, had he ever looked so superior?
Lila retrieved the magazine he’d thrown out and spread it open on her desk. She didn’t sit.
“I had nothing to do with his being signed. I didn’t know about it. I’m most certainly not his rep.”
Simon said nothing.
“Nicholas informed you of that already. What he didn’t tell you is that Ian isn’t only the newest member of the Ripper Records family.” She opened her top left drawer and withdrew a folded newspaper that was perfectly creased. So unlike the tattered magazine that looked as if he’d unleashed his frustration on the pages.
She pushed it toward him and tilted her head, waiting for Simon to pick it up. He read the headline of the small article at the bottom and tossed it back on the desk. “I’ve read enough about his fucking hero antics, thank you very much.”
“The woman he supposedly saved is my cousin, Zoe. Whom he met because I arranged for her to photograph the Zeps show.” She laughed faintly. “Arranging is a much more polite word than what actually happened. She had no interest. She falls squarely on the love side of the for-love-or-money equation. The last thing she wants to do is worry about a paycheck.”
“Must be nice.”
“Surely you remember being that pure in your affection for your art. I know you do. That posturing routine doesn’t work on me, Simon. Though I have to say I’ve heard someone else employs it as well.”
“Don’t.” He held up a hand. “I’ve already gotten to read plenty about how he’s just like me except younger. Sharper. Prettier with his flowing fucking locks and his British accent meant to divest women of their panties. Blah, blah, blah.”
“You’re jealous.” She rocked back on her heels as if he’d delivered her a physical blow. “With all you have, all you’ve achieved, you’re jealous of a man who came to his meeting with Donovan in ripped shoes. Who I’ve heard lives in a crack motel and carries half his belongings around with him to gigs so he doesn’t get ripped off.”
Simon shut his eyes against the wash of shame that climbed up his spine and burned along the back of his neck. “It’s not that simple.”
“No. It’s not. Because I’m not at all certain he’s just here for the reasons of making sweet music. Or sweet love with my cousin, who is far more naive and innocent than she realizes.” She pulled another clipping out of her top drawer and slid it toward Simon.
This time, it was from one of the tabloid sites and there were more pictures than words. He’d already seen them thanks to his inability to stop with the Google alerts on his brother. Ian causing a
stir on the beach, this time due to a happy little singalong with Zoe on his lap. Kissing Zoe. The two of them running like carefree kids as eager fans chased after him.
“Jesus, he’s already living the rockstar life.” Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I should unzip my pants onstage too? Is that the missing ingredient?”
“Unbuttoned,” Lila said lightly.
“Whatever.”
“You know full well sex sells. Are you honestly telling me every time you and Margo dance around each other onstage that there isn’t some knowledge of what inflames the fans behind it?”
“I don’t do anything solely for that reason any longer. Especially not dance with my fucking wife.”
“Because you don’t have to. You’re a millionaire many times over. Ian received a paltry signing bonus, and I’ve been told he acted as if he’d been given a Cornwall estate. He’s as poor as you, Nick, and Deacon were growing up. The only difference? He’s alone, and you had each other.”
Simon rolled his shoulders. Ever since he’d glimpsed Ian on TV, he’d lived with a low, simmering ache under his skin, as if he’d run out of enough room in his body for his organs. Every part of him felt crowded.
And now Ian was at Ripper too. Killing it. With his ripped shoes and his poetic curls and soulful voice.
Ian was him, but he was better. Hungrier. Eager to soak up every drop of the experience.
So, yeah, he was fucking jealous. He wanted to be that man again with that relentless, burning ambition, who loved the music to the point of madness. But not if it meant not having all he had in his life now.
Margo.
Their baby, which he wanted with the same fierceness as he loved his wife.
His life was too full for him to fixate on music to that extent anymore. Deep down, he didn’t want to. But looking at fucking Ian made him yearn.
“I’m not alone, you’re right. I have a tightly knit family, one I “made and one I was lucky enough to be given.” He swallowed hard and rubbed the polished gold ring around his finger. “Am I supposed to forget he basically called me out on television and have some Hallmark-style reunion with a stranger?”
“I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just saying he was on the ropes, so it’s not surprising he grabbed for a life preserver.”
He nearly smiled. “You’re mixing your metaphors.”
“I don’t know what to make of him,” she said finally, running a pink-polished nail over the strand of black pearls around her neck. “Part of me feels sorry for him. He’s not had an easy road, has he?”
Simon said nothing. No, he probably had not. As he had not, either. Too bad he hadn’t had any famous older siblings he could use as a cash card to buy himself entrance to the music world.
But he also knew he’d been granted some gifts of luck himself. He’d gained national attention through a concert video that went viral on YouTube, not entirely different from how Ian had begun to take off. Still, he’d had no tokens to turn in to get further. He’d had only his own wits and his talent to get him where he needed to go.
“Nor had you,” Lila said quietly, reading his mind. “But I’ll say again—you weren’t alone. You discount the difference that makes because you’ve never been alone for long. That kid doesn’t even know how to work with a band. He’s performing with studio musicians, half of whom detested him by the end of their first night together.”
“Says plenty, doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps. To me it says he’s like a feral cat, learning how to operate among humans.”
Simon raised a brow. “Not that that’s a flattering description in any way, but remind me again how you’re not on his side?”
“I’m not. And truly, there are no sides.”
Simon grunted and tucked his fists under his arms. Right.
“Donovan gave Ian a chance when he contacted him. Believe me, Donovan is no one’s fool. He’s got his eye on him, as does his rep, Sabrina. Sabrina, however, is a bit starry-eyed from the dollar signs she sees right now. Already he’s proving quite lucrative, so she might be willing to overlook some warning signs.”
“And you’re saying you’re not?” He frowned. “What warning signs?”
Lila finally sat in her chair. “His past is filled with brushes with the law and those in authority. Minor things mostly, excepting a rather large bank heist that he was involved in with a crew of much older men.”
Simon leaned forward. “Excuse me? Did you say bank heist?”
“The charges were dismissed, against Ian in any case. Not so for some of his band of merry men. Restitution was made. His record was scrubbed.” Lila smiled slowly, resembling a Cheshire cat. “Or so he believed.”
Simon stared. “How did he get out of that one? And Margo told me you’d said that he only had minor things on his record.”
“I hadn’t found the rest yet. It was a few layers deep.”
“Not deeper than Lord Lewis’s pockets can run.”
She gave a dainty shrug. “We know some people.”
“Yeah. So, you’re saying the kid isn’t only an opportunist, he’s a felon too. Fabulous.”
“I’m also saying he must know some powerful people. How does a virtual street kid from the bowels of London not only make restitution for a sizable debt to a financial institution, but also possess the wherewithal to get those charges dropped and hidden away?”
“If he was young—”
“When you’re dealing in terms of that much money, it isn’t so easy to make things disappear. He wasn’t wealthy himself. He knew someone—or several someones—who were willing to play magician on his behalf. That kind of trickery costs.”
“You think his desperation to use my name to climb the ranks as quickly as possible is due to his debts.”
“I don’t know. But my Spidey senses are tingling.”
“Sure they aren’t tingling because a so-called street kid—your words—is tangling with your pretty young cousin?”
She sat back in her chair. “Probably,” she said after a long moment. “You’re probably right that my concern for Zoe isn’t helping matters. She sees herself as far more streetwise than she actually is. She came fresh from the farm, and we both know how a place like LA can chew you up and spit you out.”
“Yet you have no such fears for Ian. Because clearly, he’s on the make. And the take. And God knows what else.”
Why was he playing devil’s advocate? He’d come in this office, pissed to hell that Lila and Donovan and all of Ripper Records had betrayed him by signing Ian.
Now other thoughts were starting to creep in. Like how Ian was being pegged and pigeonholed for his shitty background, just as he had been.
Different sides of the same coin—a world apart.
Of course he hadn’t turned to large-scale felonies to pay his bills. But if someone was desperate enough, and if they were alone, as Lila had been sure to beat into his head…
Fuck, he did not want to put himself into that kid’s shoes. Not his fucking problem.
He’s your brother. You know it. Can you really be so eager to side against him?
Actually, he wasn’t eager. He just wanted to snap his fingers and be back in that hotel room overseas. Except this time, he wouldn’t idly surf to the talent competition where he’d first laid eyes upon his brother’s face. Maybe then none of this would’ve happened.
Yeah, right. As if he could make Ian disappear so easily. But a guy could dream.
And he could also face reality. Eventually.
Ian was in his life, even if just peripherally. He existed. He had talent, and he had ambition. He wasn’t going away anytime soon.
Lila sipped from her glass of water, and belatedly, Simon realized they’d both been lost in their thoughts for several minutes. She set down her glass, then ran her fingertip along the rim. “I have my prejudices against him, as Zoe’s cousin. You’re right. No one would be good enough for her in my eyes. Especially not a rockstar—” She held up a h
and as Simon started to speak. “Yes, I know that’s ridiculous. I also know I’m far too overprotective of her, since I babysat for her when she was a kid. Rockstars are no worse—and no better—than other men. But I’ll admit, the lifestyle unnerves me. Add in some of Ian’s other particulars, and yes, I’m concerned.”
“His particulars like being poor, from a shitty family, and a criminal.”
“The criminal part weighs heaviest. You’d be surprised, but I don’t give a rat’s bum who his parents are.”
“Were,” Simon snapped, though the truth was, he didn’t know.
Ian hadn’t spelled out their mother was dead. Simon had just assumed.
He’d assumed far too much, evidently.
“Are you being intentionally difficult with me, or is this just your new disposition? Because if it’s the latter, remind me to send a card with my condolences to Margo.”
Simon had to laugh. “I’m sorry, Li. I’m just not all right with any of this. Even sitting here talking about him seems weird. Six weeks ago, I’d never heard of this dude. My life was fucking perfect.”
“And now it’s all drudgery and heartache?”
Despite himself, he smiled and started to speak, then quickly shut his mouth.
Fuck, he’d nearly spilled the beans about the baby. The words were right there. But he couldn’t. Not just yet. Tour dates would have to be postponed most likely, or shows reconfigured, and they both knew Li would freak out before she went all melty-eyed and cooed with the best of them.
Plus, there was what Nicky had told him when they were overseas about him and Li trying to have another baby. The last thing Simon wanted to do was to rub salt in the wound. They’d be happy for them, he was sure, and would probably dole out more than their healthy share of ribbing—especially Nicky. But he didn’t want to make it any harder than it had to be for them.
“No, my life is pretty fucking awesome,” he said quietly, rubbing his ring again. “Especially now. It’s never been better.”