Chasin's Surrender (Gemini Group Book 5)

by Riley Edwards

  I never invited anyone into my home. I hadn’t been celibate all these years, but I’d been careful. I didn’t fuck my fans, I didn’t invite men in the music industry to my bed, nor did I take them up on their offers to join them in theirs.

  And never, ever did I play games with my heart. I carefully and studiously checked my emotions at the hotel door when I was with a man. Always a hotel, never at home. That was a rule. No one invaded my personal life and I was cautious about getting close to anyone.

  The way I lived, who I was, I didn’t have a choice. Men didn’t want Genevieve, they wanted Vivi. I had no issues with going long periods of time before I took a lover and only sought one out when the loneliness weighed so heavy I needed company.

  But never in my home.

  Yet, Chasin had smiled at me, and I’d invited him in knowing where I wanted the night to go. Hell, in my mind I’d already planned the next morning. I was a shit cook, except for breakfast. My waffles were the best. So after one smile from Chasin, I’d planned on keeping him in my bed and making him breakfast. After the first perfect morning, I wondered if I’d still be making him breakfast a week later. After the second, I thought I’d be happy making waffles over the next month.

  But we didn’t make it that far.

  “Babe?” Chasin called and I blinked, bringing him back into focus. “Where’d you go?”

  “Um, nowhere. I was surprised how late it was,” I lied.

  He held my eyes a beat before he glanced away and started to unwrap a plate of lasagna. I knew Bobby had indeed cooked before she left, because Italian food was her specialty and her lasagna was my favorite. A pang of regret hit my chest.

  Bobby leaving me was all wrong.

  “I can do that,” I announced. “You don’t have to heat up food for me.”

  “You’ve been upstairs working for hours. Sit. Relax.”

  “Really, you don’t have to do that,” I tried again.

  Chasin’s head turned and he stopped cutting me a slice of Bobby’s excellent, cheesy goodness.

  “Genevieve, sit. Relax.”

  “Not sure I can relax,” I mumbled, and sat down.

  Then he stared. That was all he did—he didn’t speak, he didn’t move, which made me uncomfortable so I started fidgeting.

  “You’re safe, babe.”

  “There’s no such thing as safe,” I whispered.

  “What do you mean, no such thing?”

  Apparently, Chasin had super-human hearing, something I’d need to remember considering I mumbled shit under my breath a lot.

  “It doesn’t matter. Can we drop it?” I asked.

  Plate in hand, Chasin moved from the island, across the kitchen, and over to the microwave. I heard the door open, close, beeping as he set the timer. Just when I thought he was going to let it go, he turned his head to look at me over his shoulder and asked, “What do you mean, there’s no such thing as safe?”

  “Does it matter to you that I don’t want to talk about this, like at all?”

  Then Chasin surprised me by saying, “The detective working your case sent over some files. Bobby went over to Nixon’s to take a look.”

  “He did?” That shocked me. Detective Loughry hadn’t been the easiest man to work with.

  Chasin’s lips twitched before he said, “Well, he did after Nixon had a word with his captain. Then he sent the files.”

  “I’m impressed. Bobby and the label have been hounding him for updates, but he hasn’t been very cooperative.”

  The microwave dinged and Chasin turned to take out the plate. He opened some drawers until he found the flatware, grabbed a fork, and made his way to the table. After he set my reheated dinner in front of me, he sat.

  Not opposite but right beside me—so close, his shoulder brushed against mine.

  “How are you holding up?” he inquired.

  I kept my gaze on my plate, not daring to look at him.

  Then as I stared at my lasagna I wondered why Chasin’s simple question made me want to simultaneously jump in his lap and cry and run away and lock myself in my room. Why was it that asking me how I was holding up made me both warm inside and scared to death? And lastly how was that even possible to be both of those at the same time?

  Maybe because no one else had thought to ask me that. Not even Bobby. She was all about keeping my mind off some crazy person sending me letters and keeping me focused on work. Something I’d stupidly done because no one had told me how dangerous the situation had become.

  My manager, my record label, and my best friend had all allowed me to walk around with my head up my own ass, thinking that the stalker was nothing more than a harmless annoyance.

  And why did they do that? So I’d tour, continue to write music, and record. All three meant they made money.

  That was who I’d become.

  9

  Chasin sat statue-still next to Genevieve. The urge to touch her was overwhelming, but he refrained—just barely. She was staring at her food like the answer to life’s burning questions was to be found on that plate. It gave Chasin a moment to study the woman who had captured his attention so profoundly.

  He didn’t understand what it was about her that had drawn him in. It went beyond her beauty. Beyond her infectious laugh and her blinding smiles. There was something about her that felt easy to be around. Soothing, comforting, a calm had settled over him the moment he’d seen her. Chasin couldn’t put his finger on why, but he knew she did. He also knew he wanted that woman back. Not this dull version of her.

  She doesn’t give second chances.

  Chasin had heard Bobby’s warning—loud and clear the words danced in his head. However, he was unwilling to accept it. He was man enough to admit he’d been wrong, likewise, he was man enough to know what he wanted, go after it, and not back down. Further, if he wanted her to open herself up, he needed to do the same.

  It was with that thought, he told her, “My mom cheats on my dad.”

  “What?” Genevieve’s gaze sliced to his, clearly confused by his left-field declaration. As far as Chasin was concerned, there was never a good time to talk about his mother, her proclivities, or his father’s lack of a backbone.

  Chasin had expended a good amount of time trying to figure out how he came to be the man he was, he was nothing like either of his parents, and the best he’d come up with was, he was the man he was because he despised everything they were and had vowed at a young age never to be like them. He’d flat-out known his mother’s behavior was repulsive. But it had taken him years to understand why seeing his father cow to his mother felt wrong. Every time he’d witnessed it his skin would crawl, when he was a kid he didn’t get why, as a teenager he figured it was because watching his dad eat shit and accept his mother’s cheating made his dad weak and he didn’t like thinking that. Then he hit adulthood and realized that a man didn’t eat shit and further he didn’t make his woman eat it. Turnabout was a woman didn’t make her man eat it and turn him in a pussy-whipped fool. Though, if his father was any sort of man, he wouldn’t have allowed his wife to cow him.

  “I’ve watched that shit my whole life. That’s what I know. That’s all I know. Since I was a kid, my mother had no problem bringing men into our family home and fucking them on the bed she shared with my dad while her son was in the living room. My dad would find out, they’d fight, she’d talk him around to staying, and a week later, the sick cycle would continue. I lived that dysfunction until I was old enough to get the fuck away from them. I don’t know if she still does it, I suspect she does, and as heartless as this is, I don’t give a shit. My dad made that disgusting bed, he can lie in the filth. What I do know is, I am not a cheat. That’s why I walked out. Why I shut down and was a dick.”

  Chasin watched in horrified fascination as Genevieve reared back, the force of her movement painful to witness. He knew she remembered him telling her he wasn’t a cheat the night he’d screwed up and walked out.

  “So, now you know why I was a
dick and jumped to conclusions. But I gotta ask, why didn’t you say anything?”

  Genevieve’s back snapped straight, her head whipped to the side, and she narrowed her eyes on him.

  “What?” she repeated. Only that time, it wasn’t a soft murmur, it was an angry snap.

  “When I was a dick, why didn’t you say something?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, Genevieve, call me out on being an asshole. Tell me that Bobby was a woman and I was a jackass for assuming she was a man.”

  “You called me a lying, cheating bitch,” she reminded him, and Chasin didn’t bother hiding his flinch.

  “I was there. I remember. I also remember you not saying anything to defend yourself. You just let me leave.”

  Genevieve grew silent and Chasin watched as she shut down. There was no missing it—the shutters slammed closed, and she shored her defenses.

  “Don’t do that,” he ordered. “Talk to me. Explain why after the weekend we had, you didn’t try to stop me.”

  “Why bother?” She shrugged her shoulders. “You showed me you weren’t who I thought you were. That night and the one we had before it were mistakes.”

  “The weekend we spent together was a lot of things. What it wasn’t was a mistake,” Chasin corrected. “You felt something, same as me. And if you deny it, I won’t believe you.”

  “Sorry you went through the trouble of heating this up, but I’m not hungry.” Genevieve stood, but before she could pick up her plate, Chasin stopped her.

  “Don’t walk away.”

  Genevieve glanced down to where his hand was wrapped around her bicep then as if in slow motion, she lifted her face and her eyes followed. Cold, listless eyes that cut Chasin to the quick.

  He did that to her.

  He knew it so deep in his gut he didn’t try to block the pain as it seared through him.

  “Why not? You walked away. You jumped to your conclusions, called me names, and left. I owe you nothing, Chasin.”

  “You’re right, I did. But again, I apologized and explained why. Tell me why you didn’t stop me.”

  “Right, so that means, what? You get a pass? Everything’s forgiven?” she asked and jerked her arm free.

  Other than to get free of his hold, she didn’t move. She didn’t flee the kitchen, she didn’t run away from him. No, she stood tall, back straight, chin stubbornly jutted out, gaze shooting fire. Looking at her, Chasin made a few decisions. He wasn’t letting her go, he’d work for her forgiveness. And after he earned that, he’d work his ass off to get her back to the confident, smiling woman he’d met.

  “Fuck no, I don’t get a free pass. I was a serious prick. But I don’t understand why when I was shoveling shit your way, you didn’t do one thing to defend yourself, even if that was just to tell me to go fuck myself. Thinking back, I saw it, you called my name and were getting ready to say something. But you didn’t. What stopped you, Genevieve? I hurt your feelings, I know I did. Why didn’t you call me out?”

  “Because it wasn’t worth it,” she fumed. “You’re right—I thought we had something and I let myself get swept away. I did what Bobby’s always accusing me of doing and got lost in the dream. The worst part is, I not only allowed it but I worked for it. You had no clue who I was, and it felt so damn good, I was desperate for you to see me.

  “But then you showed me you’re no better than everyone else. People just assume what they see or read about me is true. No one takes the time to ask, to get to know me, they just think they know. And, yes, you did hurt my feelings, but really, I was mad at myself for being so fucking dumb. I should know better, hell, I do know better. Yet, all it took was you smiling at me and I invited you in. How stupid can I be?”

  She shook her head. “That’s why I let you walk away and didn’t bother to tell you that you were wrong. If you’re so quick to think those things about me, call me a bitch, then I don’t want anything to do with you. Just like you, I have enough people in my life who treat me like garbage.”

  The eyes he’d seen dance with humor and burn with passion were wounded. But the kind of pain she was feeling wasn’t from Chasin being a dick, at least not all of it. No, that kind of pain took years to build and fester.

  The look only reinforced his resolve—if there was ever a woman who needed someone on her side it was Genevieve. From the outside looking in, it would seem like she had it all. But she had nothing beyond her fame and wealth. And if Chasin had to guess, those two things weighed heavy like a curse. She’d said people thought they knew her and he reckoned that was the case. But she’d also said she had enough people in her life who treated her like garbage.

  “Who treats you like shit, babe?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Bobby?” But even as he asked, he didn’t think that was the case.

  Whatever was going on with those two wasn’t because Bobby was a bitch to her. Chasin may’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion with Genevieve because his perspective was colored by his mother’s infidelity, but normally he was good at reading people. In his line of work, he had to be. And while he hadn’t fully understood why Bobby had kept secrets from Genevieve, he now knew those secrets weren’t kept to be malicious. As much as Chasin disagreed with her play, he believed Bobby had been trying to protect Genevieve. He just didn’t understand from what.

  Undeniable pain flashed on her face and her torso swung back. Yeah, something was going on between those two but it was not Bobby who’d caused the rift.

  “No. Bobby’s never treated me like shit.”

  “Then who?”

  “It’s none of—”

  “You’re wrong, it is. Right now, everything’s my business. You have someone stalking you, sending you fucked-up letters, gifts, and breaking into your house. It’s my job to make you safe, part of that is knowing everything about you. I need to know your schedule, where you go, who you do it with, where you shop, what you buy, people you come in contact with, and why you’re with them. I need to know the name of every person who’s looked at you cross-eyed. Every person who works for you, who you’ve fired, who’s quit, who has access to you. Every person who’s tried to get your attention, every man you’ve shared your bed with, and especially the people in your life who treat you like shit.”

  He lost Genevieve’s gaze when she looked down at the floor. She took her time gazing around the kitchen before her eyes finally came back to him. But she still didn’t speak. Something he was learning about Genevieve was she was stubborn as fuck.

  “Why’d Bobby quit?” he asked.

  “That is none of your business.”

  “Wrong again.”

  The two of them went into a stare down, something that would’ve pissed Chasin off if he didn’t see the wetness brimming in her eyes. His chest squeezed tight, and for a moment he wondered if he was doing the right thing. Causing her pain didn’t feel right, and if pushing her made her eyes shine with unshed tears, he’d have to figure out another way to make her talk.

  “Did you know my parents tried to sue me?” she whispered.

  The change in topic was so abrupt Chasin jerked in surprise. “What?”

  “They filed a lawsuit, asking for fifty percent of my earnings.” Genevieve huffed a sad, flat laugh. “Fifty percent, can you believe that?”

  “Babe, I can’t believe they’d sue you, period,” Chasin told her.

  “Yeah, well, that’s them.” Genevieve shrugged in a way that told him she was resigned to the notion her parents were assholes. “They’re greedy. They’re drunks. But mostly they hate me. When I was a kid my dad was a functioning alcoholic. He would start drinking when he got home from work, but still managed to get up the next morning to go into the office. But when his drinking got out of hand and my dad lost his job, things got worse. Then my grandparents cut them off financially, so they cut off my contact with them, and things just went bad. My parents lost the house, they couldn’t afford to keep the cars, we wound up in a shi
tty apartment on government assistance. Something my parents blamed on my dad’s family, then on me. How it was my fault they were drunks is beyond me, but to this day they blame me.”

  Chasin’s entire body felt funny. He wasn’t sure if what he felt was a cold chill running down his spine or if it was red-hot anger. Further, he wasn’t sure if he was pissed way the fuck off at Genevieve’s parents or if he felt profound sadness for her. All of these emotions mixed together and left him speechless.

  Oh, he had plenty to say—none of it helpful, all of it ugly—so he kept his mouth shut in hopes she’d continue. He was equal parts confused why she was talking about her parents and happy she was opening up, but what he didn’t understand was what, if anything, the lawsuit had to do with Bobby quitting.

  “I’ve been friends with Bobby for a long time, way before I got my first record deal. She tried her best to pull me back up while my parents were dragging me through the mud. And make no mistake, they played dirty. So dirty, I had no choice but to roll around in the muck with them. Bobby stuck by me, but the longer it went on, the uglier my parents got. To protect myself I did the only thing I knew how to do, what I’d been trained to do my whole life, and that was to retreat.”

  Genevieve paused and took a deep breath before she whispered, “I don’t blame her for leaving me.”

  Fucking shit.

  Genevieve’s soft words were a punch to the gut, momentarily winding him. Chasin was having a hard time reconciling this soft-spoken, withdrawn version of the vibrant, confident, funny woman he’d met. That first night they’d been together, Chasin would’ve never guessed she’d been living under the shadow of a man stalking her, on top of a seriously whacked personal life. Nothing she said or did led him to believe she was anything but carefree and self-assured.