Her eyes don’t leave mine, and I eventually chuckle as I take another drag on my smoke.
“Yeah. Right. Serious face. Got it.” I give in.
“It is serious,” she says. “Someone tried to get into your apartment, and if you’re sure it isn’t your stalker, then that opens an array of possibilities that I need to be able to narrow down. Is there anyone else who might want to get to you?” she asks.
There’s no way for me to know for sure who it could be. Groupies. Haters. Protesters. Husbands. Wives. Even those guyscoming back to finish what they started the night they drugged me at that fucking club—
My insides twist at the thought, and I push the flashes of memory away. I try not to think about it any more than I think about losing Kelsey in that inferno.
Fire blazes behind my eyes, chills raking over my skin at the thought.
“I think you looooove me… You want to kiss me—”
A scream. Crashing headlights. Dead eyes.
“What are you thinking about?” Gemma asks, and her voice makes me blink.
I sit up and put out the rest of the cigarette in the tray. “It’s nothing,” I say fast. “So, if I have no idea who it could be, what’s next?” I ask.
“Well, in that case…” Gemma leans a little closer over the table, the proximity making my entire body go on alert. “We’re about to get really close, Bonnie,” she says, her tone seeming to deepen. “Is that okay with you?”
I blink, hesitating for a fraction of a second.
“Ah… Yeah, yeah,” I stammer.
Get it together.
“Yes,” I say with a sharp inhale. “I mean, yeah, that’s… that’scool. It’ll be fun.”
Gemma sits back in her seat and smirks my way as if she knows what she just did to me, and the snicker that leaves her makes my cheeks warm.
“Are you always so eloquent when your bodyguard is telling you that you need extra support?” she taunts me.
I laugh nervously. “Babygirl, no bodyguard of mine has ever looked like you,” I say without thinking. “And if they did, I would have welcomed the extra support.”
Her brows lift, and I play off her surprise.
“Babygirl?” she repeats, her chair scratching the floor when she moves it back.
My bottom lip draws behind my teeth. It didn’t even register that I said it.
“I can’t call you that?”
“Ha. Yeah, okay, rockstar,” she says as she stands.
I stare at her as she pushes the chair in, my heart dropping a fraction. “Rockstar?”
Gemma’s gaze narrows at my surprise. “Yeah. You’re a rockstar, aren’t you?” she asks. “I figured everyone called you that.”
I push the thought from my mind. She’s right. If I thought every person who called me “rockstar” was my stalker, the list would be a mile long.
“They do,” I say. “I thought you’d find something different for me.”
Gemma laughs. “I’ll find something more creative,” she says. “What is this I hear about you all wanting to game all night?”
“Fucking Reed,” I say, standing. “Hey, can we not tell the guys about this whole break-in thing? It’s fine that they know my locks are changed, but not that someone else tried to get in. I just don’t want them trying to force me to move.”
Gemma looks as if she might agree with them, and my shoulders slump.
