But, he reminded himself, it was for her own good. Keeping his distance would keep her safe.
“What’s up?” Raine pulled a chair away from the panel and sat almost as far away from him as she possibly could. The pink, now completely faded from her hair, gave way to lightened locks and brown roots—and her makeup was harsh and dark, making her blue-gray eyes appear all the more clear. She wore her black hoodie, her hands half covered by the sleeves, old jeans…and the black boots that made her look like she was ready to do combat.
Definitely closed off.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” And it was killing him. It was something he should have told her a while ago. What a selfish fucking asshole.
“What?”
“That leak—that wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Raine narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
Quentin let out a puff of air. This had to be done. “After we’d made such great progress, I sent a couple of snippets from your first song to someone at the label. I wanted them to hear what you were creating and give them a taste of what you were working on…you know, give them an idea of what the album was going to feel like. I had no idea this was going to happen. If I did—”
“Wait. You sent something to the label, someone you trusted?”
“Yeah.”
“Right. But you didn’t send it to influencers on TikTok or shit like that.”
“Yeah.”
“So what’s the issue?”
Quentin frowned. “If I hadn’t sent it to the label, nobody would have ever gotten to listen to it until you were ready.”
Raine shook her head. “Yeah, okay, I know…but you’re acting like this is your fault. Why would you think that?”
“Because I was the dumb ass who sent it. I sent it to one person, thinking they’d keep it to themselves…and instead look what happened. This is all my fault.”
Raine got quiet—and that could only mean one thing.
She did blame him. She likely was pissed—and she had every right to be. This shit was all on him.
Quentin looked at her knees, because her eyes were focused on the wall behind him. And he was going to stay silent until she gave her verdict. The worst part was that confessing his guilt didn’t assuage it at all. Nothing inside him had changed.
Finally, she said, “I just don’t get why you didn’t ask first.”
Fuck. She wasn’t wrong.
And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it now. He had completely, utterly failed her.
Chapter 21
The album was almost done—and so, after the morning spent working together, Quentin told Raine he was going out for a while. He’d also admitted that there were paparazzi guarding the entrance to his property, so he used the excuse that he was going to see if he could get them to follow him away.
Every last one of them did as he drove away.
He wasn’t sure if they suspected Raine was in the back seat hiding, but he was going to have to shake them somehow. The first thing he decided to do was park at the grocery store. Getting out of the car, he pretended like it was business as usual—because he knew the real story here was Raine, not him.
But it turned out he was only half right.
A few left, having peeked in his car to see he was really alone, probably to stake out his property again. He wasn’t worried about Raine, because the paparazzi knew better than to actually set foot on his property uninvited. But several photographers remained in the parking lot, standing outside their cars and snapping photos as soon as he walked out of the doors of the store—and he couldn’t help his reaction. He lost his shit, letting out all the anger inside.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he said, approaching one with a big camera. “Go home. There’s no story here.”
“Tell that to my readers. They’re curious about this album—and about you and Raine.”
