And just like that, I'm alone with Gray Garrison.
The silence that follows Diana's exit feels loaded with possibility and danger. Gray hovers near the entrance, clearly debating whether to stay or flee.
"Mind if I sit? I won't be much of a bother.” Gray motions toward the seat next to me.
The polite, almost tentative way he asks catches me off guard. I motion toward the chair beside me, though my brain immediately questions the wisdom of encouraging him to stay.
He settles into the chair with an effortless grace that speaks of years in the spotlight, but there's a vulnerability underneath the confidence. When he turns to look at me, those famous blue eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "So, you're not thrilled about the tour idea?"
"It's not that I'm not thrilled." I pause, trying to find words that don't make me sound like a coward or a negative Nancy. "It's just not what I signed up for when I took this job."
"Fair enough." He leans back in his chair, studying me with curious eyes for a small eternity. "What did you sign up for?"
The question is simple, but he asks it like my answer matters to him, making me want to give him an honest response.
"Stability, I guess. A normal job with normal hours where I can go home at night and leave work at work." I shrug, suddenly feeling foolish for wanting such mundane things when sitting across from a person who lives a life most people only dream about.
"Nothing wrong with wanting that. Though I'll warn you that nothing about this business is normal, not even the desk jobs."
I look at him more carefully. Up close, he's even more beautiful than the photos suggest. He’s all sharp angles and perfect features that seem designed for magazine covers. But there's a tiredness in his face.
"Can I ask you a question?" I pose before I can think better of it.
"Shoot."
"Why do you need a new assistant?" I’m not sure if it really matters, but it could help sway my decision.
Gray's expression darkens, and for a moment, I think he's not going to answer. When he speaks, his voice is carefully controlled. "Our last assistant had some boundary issues. She crossed a line that can't be uncrossed."
"What kind of line?" My interest is more than piqued.
He looks away, jaw ticking with barely contained anger. "She drugged our drummer. Roofied him at a party and tried to..." He trails off, shaking his head. "Let's just say her intentions weren't good. Parker passed out in the bus bathroom before she could follow through, but it could have been a lot worse."
My eyes must grow as big as half dollars. "Jesus."
Gray's hands clench into fists in his lap. "We can't afford to trust the wrong person again. Too much is at stake."
I stare at him, trying to process what he just told me. The music industry has always seemed glamorous from the outside. It’s all bright lights, expensive cars, and adoring fans. But sitting here, seeing the exhaustion in Gray's eyes, I'm getting a glimpse of something much darker.
"I'm sorry. That must have been terrifying."
"It was." He meets my eyes again. The rawness and honesty in his expression makes my chest tighten. "We need a person we can trust, not someone who is looking to use us, hurt us, or sell stories to the tabloids."
"And you think that person is me?" I don’t hide the shock in my voice.
"I don't know yet, but Diana seems to think so, and she has good instincts about people. "My phone buzzes against my leg, so I glance down to see a text from my supervisor, asking where I am. Reality comes crashing back. I have a job, responsibilities, and a life that doesn't include touring with rock stars.
"I should get back." I start to stand, typing out a return message to my boss, explaining who I’m with.
Gray's hand closes gently around my wrist, stopping me. The contact sends electricity shooting up my arm, and I fight not to jerk away from the unexpected intensity of it. "Wait. It’s only fair if I get a turn before you go."
I sink back into the chair, hyperaware of his fingers still wrapped around my wrist. "Okay?"
"Eight days ago, I got out of rehab - alcohol." The admission hangs between us like a challenge. "I've been clean and sober ninety-eight days, and there are days that feel like a lifetime while others feel like they rush by."
I'm at a loss for words, so I don't speak at all.
"The thing about getting clean is that you start to see everything differently - the people around you, the choices you've made, the life you've been living. And you realize that most of the people in your orbit don't give a fuck about you. They care about what you can do for them."
