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Grayson
Iwas nervous. Sitting at my desk, aimlessly clicking in and out of different screens on my computer, trying to appear busy. Across from me, Marcus, the manager of my record label, sat scrolling through his phone, the epitome of calm and collected.
The best decision I’d made for the label so far was head hunting Marcus. He had a friendly, fatherly way about him that made younger artists feel like they could trust him. I’d also seen him soothe a fair amount of ruffled feathers to knowIcould trust his temperament and his ability to manage any and all situations this business threw at him.
Even with all that, though, he did absolutely nothing to calm my jangling nerves.
Such a strange sensation for me. So foreign that I barely recognized it at first, but there it was, gnawing at the edges of my composure. It was fucking ridiculous, really. I’d closed deals worth millions without so much as a flutter in my chest, sat across from some of the most intimidating sharks in the business world and never batted an eye.
All of that was wiped out by the mere idea of facing one blue-haired punk rock chick again. I was haunted by that flicker of pain I’d seen in her eyes, while she stood at my stove, innocently cooking pancakes. It was the last thing I thought about before I went to sleep at night, and the first thing on my mind when I woke up. Bone deep remorse could do that to a guy, I guess.
On top of everything else, doubts about offering Boudica the contract clouded my mind. Stef deserved it, but I didn’t want to trap her. But then, denying her just because we’d slept together felt wrong. I’d never been so indecisive.
In the end, I’d handed over the responsibility for the decision to Marcus. He hadn’t managed to catch a live performance, but a few run throughs of YouTube videos had been enough to convince him Boudica deserved a shot.
There was a knock at my office door. Too late to back out now, I guess. I pushed to my feet, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Enter.”
The door swung open, and I braced for the impact. But it was just Sarah, ushering a tall, dark-haired woman into the room. Marcus jumped to his feet and stepped forward. “Marcus Reed.”
“Hi, I’m Jen. We’ve spoken on the phone.”
Marcus shook her outstretched hand and moved smoothly on to the next person through the door. The drummer, Miriam. She looked more than a little uncertain, tugging at the hem of her black sweater after she shook Marcus’s hand.
“Here are the Reynolds brothers, Evan, and that’s Reggie.”
The bass guitarist practically bounced into the room, obviously rapt to be here. “Hey, man. Nice to meetcha.”
“Likewise,” Marcus replied smoothly, wriggling his fingers after Evan released him from his steel grip. Reggie looked around the office curiously before giving Marcus a quiet hello.
But where was Stef? Had she bailed at the last minute? I’d sent the limo out to Esperance to collect them, and I’d expect Andrew to let me know if something had happened. I immediately started strategizing my next move, when she stepped through the door.
The breath whooshed from my lungs and my knees felt a bit shaky.Loser. But…What the hell? I’d never imagined Stef could look like this. Gone was the punk rock aesthetic, replaced by dark jeans, a simple white shirt, and a dark red blazer. Her hair was tied back in a low bun at her nape. It was unexpectedly understated for someone who usually wore her rebellion as blatantly as her band’s name suggested.
“Allow me to introduce you all to Grayson Rivers, Flow Records owner and musical pioneer.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, Marcus.” One by one, the band stepped up to shake my hand. Stef was last. We shook hands, and I felt the tingle up my arm. She kept her gaze lowered, pulling her hand from mine as quickly as she could, and stepped back without a word. Of course, I wanted to pull her back, say something, anything. But there were too many people around. Now was not the time.
With a mental shake, I refocused. “Sarah, please let Legal know we’re ready for them?”
“Of course, Mr. Rivers.”
Marcus gestured everyone toward the conference table. “Please, have a seat.”
As they settled around the table, I leaned against the edge of my desk, watching as Stef selected a chair furthest from where I stood. She folded herself into it, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes focused on some unseen point on the polished wood.
Marcus leaned back in his chair, folding his arms, glancing around the table with a friendly smile. He paused when his gaze landed on Stef, but he moved on. “So, Reggie, Evan, tell me how you guys got into the biz. Being brothers, it must be a pretty special experience.”
That set Evan off, launching into an amusing story from their childhood. Marcus encouraged him, flicking the occasional glance to Stef, but leaving her alone. His astute handling of the situation reminded me again why I’d hired him.
And still, Stef didn’t lift her gaze from her hands, clenched in her lap. Miriam leaned over to whisper something to her, but she just shook her head emphatically.
What came next, though, surprised me. I couldn’t tell if it was from what Miriam had said to her, or the legal team filing in, but a change came over Stef. She straightened in the seat, squared her shoulders, and smoothed her hands over her hair. Then she shot me a look. The first time our eyes had met this whole time. The impact of it hit me in the solar plexus, making the breath catch in my lungs. Her gaze was hot and defiant, and angry, before she quickly masked it and turned away, her chin in the air.
It was crystal clear she’d made up her mind about something, and whatever it was, it had everything to do with me–and she wasn’t happy. But, honestly, seeing her like that, all fired up, was kind of a relief. Submissive, quiet Stef worried the shit out of me.
CHAPTER 10
Stefania