Page 39

I laughed dubiously. “Why would that surprise you? You don’t know me.”

“No, but I know him.” He motioned at Bach, who turned a shade redder. He was ready to pop. “Beats and Blast is a dying label. A talent like yours deserves something better. Here, take my card.” I waited for Bach to intervene. He didn’t. Sherman offered me a stiff, red card with rounded edges. His name was embossed across the front: Sherman Proud. Beneath it, in silver letters, it read: Platinum Record King. He saw me reading it and smiled, saying, “It sounds cocky, but it’s true. I make my artists into millionaires.”

Bach’s stare burned into the side of my face. Licking my bottom lip, I looked up at Sherman. “You’re right. It does sound cocky.” His frown returned instantly. “I think I’ll stick with the devil I know.”

Bach’s hands relaxed at his sides. “You heard her. Go offer your card to some other people, sounds like you’re on the lookout to replace Santino.”

With great patience, Sherman tucked his card into his breast pocket. “Someone should warn you not to burn bridges in this industry,” he said. “Mistakes always,alwayscome back to haunt us.”

As he vanished into the dancing crowd, I experienced a full-body shiver. “What a jerk.” I cast Bach a half-smile. “Are you going to explain the chocolate fountain thing to me, or what?”

I meant to lighten the mood. But Bach didn’t take the bait. I was baffled by how focused he was on me... how every part of his body was taut, ready to explode. Or to pounce. “Why didn’t you take his card?” he asked.

“Why would I?” I laughed. His eyes were fierce. I toyed with the high neckline of my dress, aware of how much I was sweating. “Give me some credit. I told you I would work with you, didn’t I? I signedyourcontract. You were there, you know this.”

His Adam’s apple shifted when he swallowed. “It’s a no-fault breakable contract. You could walk away if you sensed a better offer.”

“Why would a smart man like you design a contract that could be broken if someone got a sniff of a tastier deal?”

Chuckling without humor, he hung his head. I could still see his hint of a smirk. “That was how Dad always did it. He never wanted to trap a musician, said it would just create bad blood and worse music.” Hesitating, he looked at me with suspicion. “You really didn’t read your own contract.”

“I—well, in my defense, I was distracted at the time.”

“Distracted by what?” he purred, closing in on me.

Unable to speak, I backed up. He followed, his grin getting more predatory. I had a hunch where this was going. I’d had a hunch all damn night. “Wait. I have more questions.”

“Fine, but not here.” His fingers swooped around mine. Without looking back, Bach led me through the crowd. The music faded into the background as he guided us through a building along the edge of the garden. A staircase later, and we’d broken back into the night air. The balcony overlooked the gala below, all the lights becoming jewels on a sea of glitter.

“Wow,” I whispered, pulling from his grip so I could lean over the cool stone wall. “It’s stunning from here.”

The wind blew gently on us both, easing some of the heat I’d built while dancing earlier. Bach came to stand beside me, his chin jutting out, eyes forward on the horizon instead of the party. “What were your questions?”

I straightened up, waiting for him to look at me before I spoke. “You knew that guy, Sherman.”

His lips twisted in a grimace. “He was the one who got my father his first big break.”

“He was Laurence’s agent?”

“Exactly.” Sighing, he put his back on the ledge and stared at the purple-gray sky above. “He’s not my biggest fan, to say the least.”

“What did you do to him?”

“When Dad passed away, Sherman expected to be cut into the will. He assumed he’d own part of Beats and Blast. But Dad left everything to me. All of it.” His chuckle was dry as salt. “I was tempted to run away from the responsibility. Sherman probably hoped I would, then he could swoop in and take over by force. Thank god for Violet. Without her help, nothing would function. Even so, my company has been spiraling for months. I was starting to think all hope was lost, but then... you came along.”

"Please," I laughed in surprise. "Just what am I to you?"

Bach was staring at me, his eyes smoldered until they became nothing but low embers that would flare up with a single breath. I was suddenly aware of his nearness.

He whispered, "You're my wishing star."

The air left my lips in a sudden gush. I knew I was gawking, there was no way to stop it. If anyone else had ever uttered a phrase like he had, I would have thought they were joking.

Bach was dead serious.

Low in my gut, I felt the weight of his words.

A wishing star.The sentiment was powerful, I didn't deserve someone to think of me like that. My voice came out shaky. "You can't mean that."