“Just part bonehead.”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
“I didn’t want anyone else to hear our conversation, so I just asked her to get close enough so they wouldn’t.”
“What was the conversation about?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Like hell you don’t.”
“Okay, how about this? I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay. But why didn’t you just stand up?”
Good question, thought Rocco as he stared at the photo, feeling a warmth flood his body, like that scent.
“Hey!” Dario snapped.
Rocco blinked.
“Are you okay?” Dario asked.
“Yeah, of course I’m okay.”
“All right, then answer my question. Why didn’t you just stand up?”
“I don’t know why.”
“Is there something more here? Something I, as your manager, maybe should be worried about?”
“Like what?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is, you don’t want me to know what you were talking about when the two of you were like that.” He pointed at Rocco’s phone.
“It’s not what it looks like. Her hair fell forward, and some of it got stuck in the zipper of my shirt. So, I got it—unstuck. It just took me some time.”
Dario held out his hand. “Let me see it again.”
Reluctantly, Rocco gave him his phone.
Dario stared intently at the photo. The ends of his perfectly arched black brows knitted until they nearly met up with each other. “You can’t see that in this photo.”
“I know you can’t. I’ve looked. Can we drop it already?”
“Fine with me. I’m not the one who brought it up.”
Rocco heard the door open.
“Hello!”
Celeste.
“I almost forgot,” Dario said. “I’m just giving you a heads-up. I know you hate doing photoshoots, but Celeste said something about doing one for a magazine. Someone contacted her about it. She’ll probably mention it now.”
Celeste was a prop stylist.
“Guess what?” she cried excitedly.
