Who are these guys? Really. I expected to be egged at this point.

“Look, I’m cool with this.” Rye stands. “I hope you join us. Anything that shakes things up can’t be bad.”

Whip stands as well. “Killian will come around. Jax will talk to him.”

They both come shake my hand. “Sorry for the drama,” Whip says with a wink. “But it’s kind of hard to escape around here.”

Jax makes his way over to me as Whip and Rye leave. His warm hand rests on my shoulder. “I’m glad I got to talk to you. I always meant to track you down and apologize. It was shitty to use you that way.”

“I’m so glad you made it,” I say in a rush. “That you’re healthy and here.”

His smile is tight but friendly. “Whatever you decide, come hang out with us later tonight. We’ll have fun, Soph. Trust me.”

He gives me a kiss on the cheek and Brenna a look I can’t interpret before leaving.

“This is a mistake,” Gabriel says as soon as the door closes.

I flinch, and he meets my eyes. Everything I saw in him before is gone. He’s ice now—so solid, so polished, I’m surprised I don’t see my reflection in his skin. His voice is strong but monotone, just another day at the office.

“You regret your actions. Jax takes responsibility for his part. None of that matters when it comes to this tour.”

“I’m not following you, Scottie,” Brenna says. Mostly, she’s been quiet, letting everyone talk. But there’s steel in her spine now.

He sits back in his chair, setting one ankle on his bent knee. Such cool repose, as if he isn’t kicking me to the curb when he promised he wouldn’t interfere.

“We’ve only just reached the point where the band is a fully functioning unit again. They’re finally burying old wounds. You bring this element of mistrust into the mix, and you’re risking all of that.”

“I’m a person, not an element.” I shouldn’t let him see that I’m upset, but fucking hell, I am. I thought we had at the very least a small glimmer of mutual…I don’t know, regard. I held him in his darkest hour, and now I’m a fucking element? “And if the guys are cool with it, why should you protest?”

“Because it is my job to think rationally when they either cannot or will not.” He looks at me as though I’m nothing more than a piece furniture in the room. “This is a matter of business, Ms. Darling. Nothing personal.”

“Bullshit. Everything is personal. Especially business. You judge a person and decide whether you trust them enough to work with them or not.” A shudder of rage and hurt runs through me. “You’ve made your decision, Mr. Scott. Don’t weaken it by pretending it’s nothing personal.”

God, he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink. Just sits there, facing me head on with those eyes the color of glacial ice.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Darling.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I bet you are.”

If I hadn’t been glaring right back at him, I’d have missed the tremor that flickers along the corner of his mouth. With languid grace, he rises and buttons his suit jacket. Giving me a short nod, he leaves the room without a backward glance.

“Shit,” Brenna says when he’s gone. “That went well.”

I stare at the door. “I’m sorry for wasting your—“

“You’re hired, Sophie.”

My head whips around, and I’m pretty sure my mouth falls open.

Brenna gives me a long, hard look. “This is the chance of a lifetime. You know it. I know it. Don’t you dare puss out because of a little adversity. Trust me, I speak from experience when I say you’ll regret it.”

I could answer a dozen different ways, from angry to self-pitying. Outside this jewel box of a room, the famous and powerful are having coffee and plotting their lives. I’m in London, being offered the chance to tour Europe with one of my favorite bands. It will be awkward, and facing Gabriel again will definitely be its own brand of torture.

Life in New York would be easier. Familiar.

Not personal, my ass.

“Fuck it,” I say. “I’m in.”

Chapter Five

Gabriel

 

* * *

 

It takes me two minutes and thirty-six seconds to exit the conference room, leave the hotel, and walk to the end of the block. I know because I count each second. I walk steadily and with purpose.

And if my hand trembles a little, no one fucking sees it because I’ve tucked it into my pocket. Problem solved.

Lesson one in business: to every problem there is a solution.

Lesson two: never get emotional.

Never get emotional.

The instant I turn the corner, my control starts to crumble. I bobble a step. A red haze falls over my vision. Another step and I’m panting. I spy a newspaper stand and suddenly I’m kicking it.

“Fucking shit!” I give the metal stand a rough slap as well before I begin pacing.

“I had the same reaction, dude.”

The sound of Killian’s voice stops me cold. He’s lounging against a cheese monger’s shop and drinking a carryout coffee. “I kicked the shit out the garbage bin there.”

Next to the newsstand there’s a dented bin. I snort, though I can’t truly find the humor in anything. “Of all the garbage bins and newsstands…”

“You’re the one who walked to my spot,” Killian points out.

I look down the street. “Where’s Libby?”

“Giving me time to cool off.” Killian laughs without amusement. “I’m not allowed to return to the hotel until I’m ready to apologize to the pap.”

“Her name is Sophie.” Don’t think of her. Don’t fucking do it. But it’s impossible to blot out what I’ve said to her. Rage flows through me again. I grind my teeth and count to ten. Slowly.

Lesson three: Act on behalf of your client, not yourself. I handled the situation like I’ve always done—decided what was best for the band. Protected them first and foremost, putting aside personal needs.

Bullshit. Everything is personal.

Oh, how I know it now, chatty girl.

It should have been a simple thing, dealing with this issue. I barely know the woman. The lines of risk are clear. She could easily upset the balance we’ve struggled to restore.