Sometimes you’re so hot, you scald, blister, and burn.
* * *
It killed him to know he was the reasons for those words. He was why her voice sounded so melancholy. But her voice faded and, although she continued to sing, he couldn’t make out any other actual words. Somehow, that made it all the worse.
Lifting his fist to her door, he paused. After a few seconds, he forced himself to knock, ready to tell her how sorry he was for his outburst.
The singing stopped…but she didn’t answer the door.
And Quentin wondered if, once again, the damage he’d caused was irreparable.
Chapter 14
Near the end of October, they were making progress. Their working relationship had survived—but Raine already knew she should never again bring up his past. There was something there that made Quentin lash out as, something like a thorn stuck in his flesh—and she’d accidentally poked it, not knowing it was inflamed and sore.
She wouldn’t make that fucking mistake again.
As she sat up in bed and stretched, she heard rather than saw her phone blowing up. What the hell was going on? When she picked her phone up from the nightstand, her heart started thudding in her chest. She missed multiple text messages from Mal—and the label.
Not just text messages, but voicemails too.
What the fuck was going on?
Sitting on the side of the bed, she punched in her passcode and started scrolling through her text messages—and froze as she began reading Mal’s texts in order. The first was fairly simple: I know you’re on your creation retreat and you’re working hard, but I need you to call when you get a moment.
The next: I suppose you’re busy, but we REALLY need to talk.
There were several more like it until the last one from this morning. Call me, FFS. Are you ignoring me?
She had a couple from the label asking that she call them at her earliest convenience.
Her hands began to shake, making her regret flushing all her Xanax. That had been so stupid. But no. She didn’t need it. Drawing in a slow breath through her nostrils, she reminded herself that she was strong—and those pills were just a crutch.
Unable to imagine what the hell was happening that had caused all this commotion, she decided to listen to the voicemails. And, when she listened to the last one from Mal, she knew she had to bring it to Quentin’s attention. Without another thought, she got up from the bed and quickly made her way to the kitchen. She knew, at six-thirty, that Quentin might not be there, but she was hoping. After all, there was always coffee ready when she got there, regardless of the time.
Sure enough, he was in there—and was scooping ground coffee into a filter. When he turned, he said, “You must be desperate for a cup of joe. Did you have a hard time sleeping?”
“No, I slept fine—but you need to hear this.”
Quentin’s dark eyes seemed to widen for a second. Closing the gap, Raine held up her phone, pressing the speaker button before hitting play.
Mal’s slick voice coming out of her phone snapped her back to where she’d been when she’d first arrived in Joshua Tree, reminding her of the shame, guilt, and defeat that had been coursing through her veins. And his tone conveyed that not all was sunshine and roses back in the City of Angels. “Hey, Raine. Mal here. I don’t know if you’re not getting my messages or if you’re ignoring them, but you need to know that we have a situation here. Last night, a demo leaked, apparently one you’re working on with Russo. It’s gaining a lot of traction, way faster than anyone might have expected, and that’s less than ideal.”
There was a short pause and Raine looked at Quentin. The man’s face was stone—like granite, unmoving and hard. And she couldn’t fucking read him.
Mal’s voicemail continued. “I—we—need you to keep your mouth shut about it. Don’t start posting on any of your social media channels and do not comment or explain or say anything. You need to let me—let us—handle this.
“Now, the main thing I’d like to stress is that this leak can work in our favor, which is why you shouldn’t do anything rash. We just need to be smart about it. You need to be calm—and available. Call me back when you get this.”
When she looked at Quentin again, he was staring at her phone screen—but said nothing. Jesus. Was he blaming her? She definitely hadn’t touched those files. The only time she was ever in the studio was when Quentin was there.
But he must be blaming her. God, would he please just fucking say something?
“He has a lot to say, but he doesn’t sound concerned about you,” Quentin finally said, meeting her eyes.
Out of anything he might have said, she hadn’t expected that.
“That’s Mal for you.” After a second, she said, “I swear I didn’t do this.”
