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“Yeah?”

My voice drops to that place only she brings out of me—rough and low, edged with heat. “Be in bed when I call. Naked. Lights low. I wanna hear you, and I wanna see you. I want you to touch yourself while I talk you through every inch.”

Her breath hitches.

I close my eyes, already hard just picturing her. “Think you can do that for me?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“I’ll be counting the hours.”

I end the call before Tasha gets close enough to speak, shoving the phone into my hoodie pocket and standing to meet her glare with disinterest.

I don’t care about her. Or her games. Or her presence on this tour.

Because the only thing I want right now… is back home.

Waiting for me. Naked. Mine.

And no one is taking that away from me.

I stand just as Tasha closes the distance, her heels clicking like gunfire on the marble floor. Her eyes narrow, taking in my expression—still warm from hearing Laney’s voice—and twisting it into something she thinks belongs to her.

“Who were you talking to?” she asks, all saccharine sugar laced with poison.

I level her with a look. “Fuck off, Tasha. It’s none of your business.”

Her mouth opens, stunned. Like I’ve slapped her. “Wow. Really? That’s how you’re talking to me now?”

“Yeah. Because I’ve asked you repeatedly to stay out of my shit.”

Her jaw clenches, but she keeps going, like she’s not even listening. Like I didn’t just tell her to leave me the hell alone.

“I know what this is,” she says, stepping closer. Too close. “You’re just fighting it. Trying to punish me. But that night—”

I hold up a hand, voice low and shaking with the effort not to raise it. “Don’t.”

She doesn’t stop. “—that night we spent together? That meant something. You know it did. You felt it, Eddie.”

My blood turns cold. I stare at her like she’s lost her damn mind. “That night was over a year ago. I was drunk. It was a mistake. The only thing I feel about that night is regret.”

She flinches. Good. Maybe now she’ll hear it. “You think this is me trying to punish you?” I laugh once, humorless. “I’m trying to forget it happened.”

Her lip trembles—but it’s fury, not pain. “You’ll regret saying that.”

“No,” I snap. “I regret meeting you.”

She recoils like she didn’t expect that kind of venom. Like I haven’t told her a hundred different ways to stay away from me. She wraps her arms around herself like that’ll hold her together. “I’ve done everything for you,” she whispers, eyes wild. “I defended you when everyone said you were arrogant and difficult and—”

“You’re difficult,” I growl. “You make everything toxic. You twist shit into whatever fantasy you’ve got spinning in your head and expect me to play along.”

She opens her mouth.

“No,” I cut her off. “We’re not doing this again. You’re not my publicist. You’re not my friend. You’re not anything to me.”

“I’m going to talk to Reggie—”

“Go ahead. Tell him I said I want you reassigned. Or better—gone.”