Page 107 of Love You Like This

“No jumping until we get a statement released,” Darren says as he pulls the door shut behind him.

He’s wearing a sleek navy suit that makes his silvery gray eyes pop until he pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and slides them on. His lips are set in a firm line, but it’s not an indication of irritation with me, regardless of how callous his words are. He dropped everything to come here when I called, even though this could have been a phone call.

“Falling twenty-four floors would change the narrative, though.” I cross the distance between us when he opens his arms.

His embrace is tight and lingers just a bit longer than any other hug we’ve shared before now. “Let’s explore other options first.” He releases me to study my face. “First and foremost, everything implied about your professionalism by that article is bullshit.”

I nod and look away. “Doesn’t change the fact that it’s out there now.”

“It doesn’t.”

We each take a seat on one of the striped lounge chairs.

“Xander’s a mess.” He pulls a cigarette out and puts it between his lips. “When did you two stop fighting and start fucking?”

“Fairly recently. Back half of the tour.”

He lights the cigarette and nods as he inhales the first drag. “There was a vibe shift,” he says, blowing the smoke downwind away from me. “I couldn’t care less what the two of you are doing behind closed doors, but a heads up would have been nice.”

“It was my idea to keep it a secret. I was worried about how it would look for me professionally.” I run a hand through my hair. “And I was fucking right, as usual.”

“Tale as old as time.” He takes another drag and holds it in his chest. “How do you think we play this?”

“The only thing for me to do is resign.”

His brows slam together, and he throws the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with one of his Italian leather loafers. “Absolutely-the-fuck-not.”

“Darren, we’ve worked so hard to get the band’s reputation back in line with what the label wanted. They still have the international legs of the tour next year. The last thing they need is a scandal following them.”

“They’re rock stars. They could sniff lines of coke off the pope’s ass, and their fans would still line up and buy tickets.”

“But the label,” I begin.

“The label can get fucked,” he interrupts. “I’m so sick of those god damned fuckwits lording the guys’ mistakes over them. As if their C-suite isn’t full of legitimate criminals doing much, much worse.” He points at me. “And when we leave the label, we need you. You are a cog in the machine we’ve made that cannot be replaced.”

I blink away the tears threatening to rise. “Do you have a plan for leaving the label?”

“Working on it.”

“With outside counsel?”

He nods. “Yeah. As you know, the band’s contract is up at the end of this tour, and they haven’t resigned yet. There are already whispers of interest from other labels.”

“What about the studio time they’ve already had?”

He shrugs. “That’s easy enough to reimburse.”

My phone chirps with a text notification. I look down and see it’s from Drew, one of the reporters that I regularly blow off. My gut says not to open it, but I do anyway. I’m still employed by the band, and this is part of my job.

Drew

If I get on my knees for you, will I get an exclusive?

I eat pussy like a champ

Since that seems to be how you conduct business

My stomach hollows. Darren must notice the blood drain from my face because he plucks the phone from my hands. He growls with anger as he reads and rereads the message. I look away, needing a second to compose myself.