Chapter Nine
Holly
I wake to the sound of Andrew’s voice and open my eyes to see him sitting up in bed next to me. He’s speaking quietly, unaware that I’m awake, and I roll onto my side to take him in while he’s distracted. The sunlight streams in through the window, bathing his skin in a golden light. His chest is bare, the bedcovers pooled at his waist, and his face is soft, relaxed. He looks younger in the morning light, fresh from sleep, and something in my chest tightens with affection.
Some kind of sound must escape me because he looks over and smiles down at me. He ends his call and sets his phone aside on the nightstand before sliding down and rolling on top of me. On instinct, I part my legs for him as he settles over me, reveling in his weight.
“That was my business partner, Mick, on the phone,” he tells me. “He’s back in town and wants me to come in to the office to talk about what happened with the auction.”
“The idiot you mentioned was the reason you were there?”
Andrew smirks at that and says, “Yeah. That idiot is the newest pop sensation Mick signed to our record label. Going to that auction was a violation of his contract, so we need to decidehow we want to proceed. Of course, I can’t be angry with him over that now.”
“Why not?” I ask.
Andrew brushes my hair out of my face, then traces a finger along my jaw. “Because if not for him, I wouldn’t have been there. And I wouldn’t have met you.” I smile at him, but before I can say anything in response, he continues. “Anyway, I need to meet with Mick today, and I want you to come with me. There’s a proper studio at the office, and if you’re willing, I’d like Mick to hear you sing.”
My smile grows wider and excitement courses through me. “Really? You think he’ll want to hear me?”
“He’d kill me if I kept a voice like yours a secret. Mick is our talent manager, and he’ll be beside himself when he hears you. But only if you want to, only if you’re ready. The other night, you said you thought you were entering a competition. I want you to have a real shot at your dreams; you deserve it, angel.”
Tears pool in my eyes, and gratitude swells in my chest. I can see the sincerity in his gaze, and something in my chest twists. No one has ever believed in me the way Andrew does. Not since my mom passed anyway.
“Thank you,” I tell him.I love youis on the tip of my tongue, but I hold back the words. Andrew has done so much for me, and it’s obvious he cares, but he hasn’t made me any promises of a future with him or given me any indication that the depth of my feelings is returned. So instead, I kiss his lips, and as always between us, one kiss turns into more.
It’s over an hour before we finally force ourselves from the bed, and another after that by the time we’re dressed and ready to leave. Andrew takes my hand and guides me into the garage. It’s hard to believe it’s been nearly a week since I arrived here.Neither of us has left the house since and climbing into Andrew’s car now feels bittersweet.
The drive into the city takes over an hour with the morning’s traffic, but it seems like no time at all before I’m following Andrew into a modern high-rise. The building is sleek and industrial, and the sign mounted above the reception desk reads: Flint and Stone Records.
Andrew nods at the woman behind the desk, but doesn’t pause as he leads me to the bank of elevators and presses the button for the top floor. He holds me close as we ride the elevator up several floors, but lets me go when we step out onto the marble floor of the executive suite. A man in a sharp suit rushes toward us and greets Andrew. He’s holding a tablet that reminds me of Ivan fromZoltoy Dom. But where Ivan carried himself with a cool poise, this man is barely contained chaotic energy.
“Ryan,” Andrew says, interrupting the younger man, “this is Holly Taylor. She’s a friend of mine and will be my guest today. Please escort her to my office.” Then he turns to me and adds, “This is Ryan, my assistant. Mick is waiting for me and growing more impatient by the second if the alerts on my phone are any indication. I need to speak with him first, then the three of us can go down to one of the studios. Do you mind waiting for me in my office?”
“No,” I say, trying to hide the hurt I feel at Andrew telling Ryan I’m only a friend. He squeezes my hand then heads down the hall, leaving me alone with Ryan.
“If you’ll just follow me this way, Ms. Taylor,” he says, then turns and leads me down the same hall Andrew took. But there’s no sign of the other man as Ryan directs me into a plush office with a bank of windows that overlooks the city. “Please makeyourself comfortable. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?” Ryan asks.
I turn away from the windows and shake my head. “No, thank you.” Ryan nods and disappears, closing the door behind him. Alone in the office, a heavy disappointment settles over me. Andrew’s demeanor at his home had been so warm and open, but here, he’s cold and aloof, so different from the man I’d come to know the last several days.
Sighing, I turn around the room, taking in the sterile decor. There is nothing here that indicates anything about the man who owns the space; no personal touches, no photos. The minimal art on the walls is expensive-looking, but so bland, it practically blends in with the walls.
Suddenly desperate to be out of this space, I decide to visit the bathroom, hoping some cold water on my face might shake me out of this funk. I peek my head out of the office door and look down the hall. Ryan is nowhere to be seen. In fact, the floor seems almost deserted. I decide to make a guess and head to the left, figuring I’ll either find the bathroom or someone I can ask for directions. The sound of voices at the end of the hall snags my attention. I catch Andrew’s rich tone and another man’s voice that’s unfamiliar.
“I get it, Drew. The kid fucked up. But he’s barely past puberty. What’s your excuse? You fucking bid on a woman at a virginity auction—and won! And from what I’ve heard, you’ve spent the better part of the week holed up at home with said prize. Ryan told me you no-showed for several meetings.”
Guilt churns in my stomach at the thought of Andrew missing work commitments because of me.
“I didn’t realize part of my assistant’s job description was keeping you informed of my whereabouts,” Andrew replies cooly.
The other man, who I assume is his business partner, Mick, scoffs, clearly unperturbed by Andrew’s attitude. “Don’t give me that bullshit, man. You’re putting the entire label at risk. If the paps catch wind of this, of you not only going to a human auction but actually winning it and taking the girl home? We’re done.”
“I can name at least ten celebrities who have done far worse and survived.”
“Yeah, but we aren’t celebrities. We’re businessmen. We don’t have fan loyalty to hide behind, and record companies are a dime a dozen these days. Ours is one of the best in the business, but that’s largely because of our reputation for not taking advantage of the talent and, in general, not being douchebags. All that disappears the second one of us is caught with our pants down.”
“No one is taking advantage of anyone. I trust you impressed upon Rory the error of his ways?” I can tell by his darkening tone that Andrew is starting to lose patience with the conversation.
“I didn’t need to. You scared the shit out of him. He was begging for forgiveness before I could get a word out,” Mick says with a sardonic laugh.
