Smash (Trojan Book 3)

by S. M. West

  I’ve got nothing, and there’s no point correcting her or defending myself. She’s right. I’m not focused and not getting it right. I played it perfectly a few days ago when I’d suggested the change up in the music.

  “India, I’m sorry. I’m just not…”

  “You’re not here, and you’re wasting my time. Why, Gray? Why? Is this your idea of a game?” Her nostrils flare, and her long dark hair flies behind her as she stomps around the small room.

  Silas folds his arms across his chest, expression blank but observant through the glass. I can’t tell if he’s disappointed in me, India, or the entire situation. I’m guessing the latter given every minute counts and I’ve fucked us over and wasted everyone’s time this morning.

  “Hey, guys, let’s take a break.” Silas interrupts through the speakers, and India glares at him through the window.

  Then once again, she makes her grand exit with a scream, lifting her hands into the air. Silas watches from the other room and shoots me a not amused glower. I’m the one to get up, feeling more than responsible for her outburst, and I go to him.

  “I’m sorry. I just have something to do and I’m—”

  “Your head isn’t in the game. She’s right.” His jaw tenses and he nods.

  “And you’re too easy on her. Maybe if we called her on her bullshit we wouldn’t have to deal with her tantrums,” I lash out, bitter that we tiptoe around her. “Everyone did that shit with you and look where it got us. Trojan’s dead.”

  He staggers back a step as if I’ve shoved him, and truth be told, I don’t know where that came from. I loved Trojan but don’t harbor any resentment toward him for our retirement.

  “What the hell, Gray?” Silas narrows his gaze, lips thin, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Is this about whatever it is you have to take care of this afternoon?”

  “No. This is about you cutting me out of shit.” I’m vehement, refusing to let him off the hook and admit Daisy’s news last night is weighing on my mind.

  “Seriously.”

  “Don’t be an ass.” I plant my hands on my hips. “We need a firmer hand with India, and I’d do it but I’m in the shitty position right now since I’m straddling two roles.”

  “What are you talking about?” Dismissive and irate, he starts to pace.

  “I’m one of the band for all intents and purposes. I can’t be the one telling her to cool it and be professional and then get in there and play the drums.” I shut up and let what I’m saying sink in.

  If I take on the role as producer, giving orders and calling the shots, it’ll only create tension between the band and me. Especially if I’m telling India to stop acting like a diva. It could impact the quality of the album.

  “Fine.” He tenses his jaw even as he relents. “I’ll talk to her about cooling it. She can be exhausting, but Gray, she isn’t wrong. You’re distracted, and I don’t know what’s going on, but my gut tells me it’s about whatever is happening later today.”

  Now I’m the one to relent. “Yeah, it is. I can’t say more right now but when I can, I will.” Daisy planned on talking to Pansy, but this mess with Costa isn’t mine to share.

  I got a text from my lawyer not even an hour ago. The fucker is staying at the Chateau Marmont. Of course he is.

  And now I’m consumed with thoughts of speaking to him. I can’t deny I’m also raring to see this motherfucker in person. Forget I already don’t like him because he was with Daisy, but I downright despise him for what he did to Henry. Before all of this garbage, the spineless bastard had the balls to deny his own son. I don’t like the guy.

  “Go. You’re of no use to me like this.”

  “But we’ve got another hour.”

  “Forget about it. I know you’re good for it, and the sooner you take care of whatever this is, the sooner I can have you rockin’ this album. We won’t waste the time. We’ll focus on India and the others.” He slaps my back, and I’ve got no words to adequately express my gratitude.

  Thank you doesn’t feel like it even begins to do the job.

  “Thanks, I owe you.”

  He nods and saunters down the hall, likely to face the drama queen.

  The drive to the Chateau Marmont is forgettable and I can’t say much about how I got here. I don’t bother with the front desk and head up to the floor where Costa is staying. My lawyer not only found out the hotel but also the room number and confirmed that the asshole is here.

  I bang on the door, not going in under any pretenses.

  “Who is it?” a man asks from behind the closed door.

  “Open the door now.” I slam my palm against the metal door, and I can see an eyeball looking through the peep hole.

  “Costa, this is about Daisy and Henry. Open this door now.”

  The latch turns and he opens the door, stepping back to let me in. He’s everything I thought he would be. Calvin Klein perfect, yet a darker, more mysterious version stands before me.

  Chiseled features, thick, black curls, sulky mouth, and a smoldering gaze that with one look, a would-be admirer believes the man only has eyes for them.

  I’m not insecure about my body or looks, but something about this guy bothers me instantly. Maybe it’s because he’s the father to the little boy I wish was mine. Heck, maybe he isn’t the father, but he had the chance to be and pissed on it. That I can’t forgive.

  “What the fuck are you after?” I charge at him, hand grabbing at his jaw and pushing him back against the wall.

  “Hey, watch it. Don’t hurt me.” He cowers, closing his eyes.

  “Then start talking.”

  “What do you want from me? Who are you?”

  “I’m Gray, Daisy’s boyfriend and your worst nightmare. I don’t know what you’re after, but you can’t come here and mess with her like you did.”

  “I didn’t lie. Look, please stop. You’re hurting me.”

  I can’t be. My grip is firm but hardly tight. If he wanted to, he could try to knock me off him, but he really is a pretty boy. I release him and let out a disgusted snort.

  “I’ve got to work. I can’t show up bruised or bones broken.”

  “I didn’t plan on touching you unless you gave me reason to.” I’m not prone to violence, but right now, all I want is to draw blood. “Start talking.” I widen my stance and fold my arms across my chest.

  He straightens his shirt and pushes his dark hair off his face, looking me in the eye. His tale is much the same as Daisy’s account of the conversation, and as much as I hoped for something more, something to indicate what Costa is up to, I get what she meant.

  This guy is a stranger to me and yet I believe him. He’s sincere and comes across as though he believes every word of what he’s saying. And may even be a little broken up about it, although that could have nothing to do with Daisy and Henry and everything to do with discovering he’s sterile.

  I even press him about who asked for the testing. Can the doctor in Greece be trusted or his wife? All his answers assure me nothing underhanded is going on here.

  No, scratch that, something is off. Someone is Henry’s father and if not Costa, then who? I believe Daisy believes Costa is the father. How the fuck did this happen?

  My heartbeat pounds in my ears like the ominous drums in some slasher movie. Every time my mind takes me down that dark path, I just…I can’t. It can’t be…

  “Now do you believe me?” Costa’s frustrated tone pulls me from my perplexing thoughts.

  “Why did you come here in person? Why didn’t you call her?” I partially figure his response before I’ve even fully formed the question, but it needs asking.

  “I’m an asshole but not that much of one.” His jaw tightens, and he bares his row of perfect, white teeth. “I have work in New York in a few days. Then when I found out…” He drops into a chair, leaning forward so his arms rest on the tops of his thighs. “I tried to think how I would feel if I were Daisy and got a call out of the blue from an ex. And not just
any ex, but one who was a jerk to her.”

  He snorts and I join him. At least he admits he’s a jerk—that’s definitely one point for him.

  “I figured she most probably slept with someone else and maybe the news wouldn’t be shocking…and I wanted to be angry at that.”

  He runs a hand roughly through his dark waves and tips his head up to look at me. “I had no right to be. I wasn’t exactly faithful to her, and despite everything else, I care about her. We had good times together. If it were me, I’d want to be told in person, so that’s what I did. I decided to come to LA first.”

  The more he says, the more satisfied I am with his version but also insanely irritated at having more questions with no answers in sight.

  “We’ll have the DNA results in two days. Daisy and I will each get them delivered to us.”

  “We’re going to get our own tests done.” I steady my stance, preparing for an argument or outburst.

  “What? Why?” His dark eyes search my features, looking for some reason or explanation.

  “It’s nothing personal. As things stand right now, I believe you, but I want to make sure. So I’ve arranged for another test, and it’ll be ready in the same amount of time. I need your DNA.”

  I pull out the kit I’d picked up from the lab on the way here and hand it to him.

  “The instructions are in there. From what I understand, it’s quick and painless.”

  He’s already nodding and standing. “Yes, yes, I know. I did the same for the tests I am having done. I really don’t understand why this is necessary.” He isn’t challenging me but sounds more resigned as he takes the package from me.

  “I’ll also need your email, and you’ll get a link to a secure site when the test is completed so you can also have access to the results.”

  He reads the instructions and places a long stick that looks like a big cotton swab into his mouth. The stick scrapes along the lining of his mouth, collecting DNA cells, and when done, he places the stick into a sterile container.

  We exchange email and cellphone numbers, and I slide the container into the bag provided by the lab. Then I walk to the door of his suite.

  Costa trails behind, fidgeting. I sense his need to say something more and pause with my hand on the doorknob.

  “Gray, ah…I don’t know.” He scratches at the back of my neck. “Daisy seems shocked by this. Like none of this makes any sense to her.”

  I nod solemnly, swallowing hard. That nasty lump of understanding lodges in my throat, blocking air from getting into my lungs.

  “If she didn’t…didn’t sleep with someone else, then…” He hangs his head, hands clasping at the back of his neck on a long, torturous exhale.

  His confusion and uneasiness are felt deep in my gut, and even though I can’t bring myself to fucking fathom the other possibility, I let him off the hook.

  I’m with Daisy. I will be the one to get her through this no matter what the outcome is. “Yeah, it means something far worse happened. Something she either knows about but won’t speak of, or she has blocked it.”

  “What? Blocked it?” He cocks his head to one side, brow wrinkled. “Does that really happen?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” I open the door all the way. Suddenly the room feels too small, too hot, and I need to get out. “Look, you were there around the time of conception. I don’t expect you to answer me right now but think about it. Think about that time. Was there anything unusual? Anything that stands out now that things have changed?”

  “What do you mean?” He folds his arms over his chest, fingers digging into his biceps.

  “I don’t know what I’m asking. All I know is Daisy doesn’t understand what happened. If you’re not Henry’s father, then someone else slept with her around that time…and likely without her consent.” I clench my jaw, gathering strength and composure from deep within me.

  “Fuck.” Costa’s expression is grave, and he nods. “I’ll give it some thought. If anything comes to mind, I’ll text or call you.”

  “Thanks.”

  My feet can’t carry me fast enough from the hotel. Hopefully that’s the last time I see Costa, because if it isn’t then he’s lied and put Daisy through a lot of turmoil for nothing.

  On the drive to the lab to drop off his DNA sample, I do the same as I asked Costa to do. I think back over times when Daisy would talk about her pregnancy and her time in Europe during those final days before she left for LA.

  I’m no expert, but she has never shown any signs of distress or anything like that. Is it possible that she doesn’t remember anything?

  21

  Gray

  One fine beauty

  After I drop off the DNA sample to the lab, I visit my lawyer to go over what else needs to be done. I arrange for a private investigator, actually several, to look into Costa, his wife, and that period of time in Paris when Henry was conceived.

  I hadn’t planned on any investigations, but after meeting Costa—and I believe he’s genuine and legitimate—I want to make sure we haven’t missed anything. He clearly loves his wife, and that makes him the last person I should trust to judge her character.

  And like I asked Costa to think back to that time in his life, the answer lies in the past, so that’s where I’m looking.

  My heart stumbles, hardly imagining what Daisy is going through. I’m in knots and anxious as shit, and in some ways, I’m a bystander. But not for long.

  I may be quiet, and some people might even say reserved, but I don’t like sitting idly by, doing nothing, especially where Daisy is concerned.

  After my lawyer, I switch gears and focus on hiring an agency to find a nanny, as well as stress the urgency of sending résumés so we can set up a few interviews as soon as possible. It’s another way I can help even if it doesn’t feel like enough.

  Hiring a nanny is big, and the search has taken far too long and stalled far too often. Daisy is busy, and while she won’t admit it, my guess is the expense of a nanny might put a bigger dent than she would like in her bank account.

  Sure, her business is doing well and will be doing even better now that she’s gaining prestige in the industry, but the cost holds her back. I will help her with that too, and slowly I’ll make her see we’re in this together.

  We’ve been texting all afternoon and every single message from her has included some question about how things went with Costa. She’s obsessed with knowing the outcome.

  I get it and would likely be the same—an incessant drumbeat until I got answers—and I will tell her, in person, tonight. At that time, I’ll also tell her about the PIs.

  Before picking up dinner to share with Daisy, Henry, and Sasha, I go to my place and grab more clothes. I won’t be sleeping anywhere but with Daisy. We haven’t talked about it, but I always intended on moving in once our relationship advanced. You see, I was patient, waiting for Daisy, but there was no question or doubt we would be together.

  Dinner in hand, I walk through the front door of Daisy’s house, and girly squeals of laughter punch at my chest. The buoyant joy of it tugs at the strings of my heart.

  I walk into the kitchen, glimpsing Henry out of the corner of my eye, sitting on the hardwood floor of the living room. Vroom, vroom comes from his little imaginary racetrack or roadway as he plays with his toy cars.

  Sasha is finishing up a story, and Daisy almost chokes on her giggles. Both sets of smiling blue eyes land on me. I deposit the takeout bag of Lebanese food on the counter, and my gaze sweeps over Daisy.

  The uncontrolled hammering of my heart against my ribcage intensifies when her perfectly bow shaped lips slant upward at the corners into a slow, contagious smile.

  “Holy fuck.” Sasha places her wine glass onto the table and gets to her feet.

  “Sasha!” Daisy’s admonishing tone and stern expression gives her friend pause.

  The fashion model looks to Daisy, and there’s no denying the two of them could easily pass for siste
rs with their blonde hair, blue eyes, and tall, lean frames. Sasha’s grin widens as something naughty flashes in her eyes.

  “Sorry, but how can you expect me to behave when all this deliciousness is in the house?” She sounds like a DJ and waves her long, manicured fingers in my direction.

  “I know, I know, it’s hard, but keep it clean and no swearing. We have a child.” Daisy bites at her mouth, suppressing a smile—Sasha needs no encouragement—while trying to pull off a serious glare.

  My smile eclipses my face, and warmth blooms and spreads throughout my chest. It has nothing to do with Sasha’s compliment and everything to do with Daisy saying we have a child. I’m pretty sure the we she’s referring to is me and her.

  “Fine.” Sasha accepts the reprimand and opens her arms to me.

  “Hey, Sasha, good to see you.” I wrap my arms around her waist for a hug, and after a bit, I try to pull away, but she continues to hang on.

  She whispers in my ear. “Just go with it. Let me have a little fun.”

  Her hands roam freely along my back as she titters with laughter, and Daisy playfully bats at her friend’s touchy hands.

  “That’s enough. Leave him alone.” Daisy pries her friend off me, and I chuckle, more than amused to be the center of attention.

  My woman slips into my side, bringing my arm around her neck, and hangs on tight. As if she has anything to worry about, but I can’t deny I love how possessive she is about me.

  “Grayson Bennett, you are one fine beauty,” Sasha purrs, running a hand over my heavily sleeved arms.

  My tattoos chronicle my life in one way or another with images, quotes, and symbols. Some have meaning and others, I just liked, but now they hold memories.

  Her touch isn’t in the least bit sexual, just friendly. Sasha’s trying to get a rise out of Daisy, but my girl isn’t taking the bait. Well, she’s trying to act cool and unfazed but the fact that her hand is digging into my waist makes me think otherwise.

  “It’s been too long, and you’re looking as gorgeous as ever. How are you?” I bring Daisy with me to the fridge for a beer.