“Oh, right,” Fox said. “Tinyminor problem there—see, legally, I’m obliged to make sure he doesn’t come toany harm, and unfortunately for you, you’ve shouted at him on two separateoccasions now. So. I’m afraid I can’t leave you alone with him.”
That was bullshit. Ithadto be bullshit, didn’t it?
But Fox had stillsaidit, and it didn’t matter whether it was true or not. What mattered was that hewas volunteering to put himself between me and my uncle, right when I wanted todeal with him least.
And this wasafterI’d jumped on himlike a horny teenager without even asking him what he wanted.
A vein in Uncle Vincent’s foreheadtwitched. If he’d been looking atme, I would have been coweringright about now.
This was what Fox had meantabout confidence, right?
“It’s about this lyricsleak,” Uncle Vincent said, not really directed at either of us. “We need totalk about cutting the song.”
My stomach sank. Of coursewe did. Had the record company already told Uncle Vincent to say this? Or washe just getting ahead of them?
It didn’t matter. I’dknown it was coming.
I just wanted to delay the inevitable.
“Can’t we do this in themorning?” I asked, feeling brave with Fox less than four feet away.
That got Vincent’s attention. Thefull weight of it swung back to me, like the Eye of Sauron noticing a hobbitscrambling its way up Mount Doom.
“I’m your manager,” he said.“I say when we discuss things related to the business.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Uncle Vincentinterrupted. “We’re talking about this, and that’s final.”
The brush of Fox’s fingersagainst my elbow made me jump. I turned to look at him, catching the meaningfulglance at Uncle Vincent as he stroked the cuff of my sleeve. A tiny,affection-soaked gesture that I wanted so much more of but couldn’thaveright now.
“Fine,” I said, turning toUncle Vincent. I couldn’t stomach an argument, and I didn’t want Fox steppingin again. Having them at each other’s throats wouldn’t make this any easier.
“We’ll talk in the kitchen,”I continued, hoping that Fox would follow.
He’d have every right to walkaway right now, and it was a miracle that he didn’t.
“Excellent,” Fox spoke upfirst. “I’m dying for a cuppa. Anyone else?”
Uncle Vincent looked at himlike he’dgrown a second head.
There was a strange contrastin Fox, between the ex-special operations man with the scar through his lip andno hearing in his left ear, and the soft, almosthomeyway he drankendless cups of tea and listened to all my problems.
He was too good to be real.
I trailed after him andUncle Vincent, dreading the conversation we were about to have.
TEN
FOX
After a night of tossing andturning, my brain woke me at five past five in the morning with the knowledgethat the notebook leak was agoodthing. I could use it.
My head spun as I sat up andgroped for my phone, forcing myself to focus.
At least I hadn’t woken from anightmare this time.
It’d been one in the morningbefore Vincent fucked off back to whatever hole he’d crawled out from. By thattime, Quinn had been about to fall asleep where he stood.
