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Calmly, Reed slides a key into a lock on a pedestrian side gate, and I stomp through the opening without so much as a thank you. But when I reach the other side, I realize I can’t actually storm off without trying one last-gasp attempt at helping Alessandra. Even though, obviously, anything I say to Reed at this point will fall on deaf ears.
I turn around. “My stepsister’s name is Alessandra Tennison. Her Instagram handle is TheRealAllyT. She barely has any followers and no brother destined for the NFL. She’s just a shy, sweet, incredibly talented nineteen-year-old who’s finishing her sophomore year at The Berklee College of Music in Boston. Her father died a week after her eighth birthday, after going out for an early-morning jog and getting mowed down by a texting driver. And her happiness, her dreams, mean everything to me. A shit-ton more than any one-night stand with a manipulative, arrogant asshole.” With that, I whirl around, march to my Uber, and throw myself into the backseat.
“Georgina?” the driver says, per safety protocol.
“Yes. Please, go.”
As the car takes off, I steal one last look at Reed. He’s standing on the other side of his slatted gate, one of his forearms laid flush against it, and his forehead resting on his arm. His eyes are two hot coals, smoldering in the dim light of the nearby streetlamp. His dick is plainly bulging behind his pants. As hard as a rock, like he said earlier. And for a fleeting moment, I’m a bit pissed at my values, not to mention my Italian temper, for making me miss out on what was almost certainly going to be the hottest hate-sex of my life. He was planning to tie me to his bed posts? Holy hell.
As I stare at Reed from the backseat of the departing Uber, seriously questioning my life choices, my temper, and my penchant for sometimes missing the forest for the trees, Reed shoots me a clipped wave in farewell, his cocky body language shouting, It’s your loss, baby! And that pisses me off, all over again. Without a thought in my head, I raise both middle fingers into the air out the back window before turning around and taking several deep, shaky breaths... before, finally, letting the anger and embarrassment I’ve been holding back seep out of me in the form of big, soggy tears.
Chapter 15
Reed
“Reed!” CeeCee says brightly, picking up my call. “How’s my favorite music mogul?”
“Fantastic, thanks. I just landed in New York, and I’m on my way to meet up with the Goats at their hotel.”
“Oh, how I love the adorable Goats! Tell them I said hello.”
“I will. They’re kicking off Good Morning America’s summer concert series on Monday.”
“How wonderful.”
“What about you, CeeCee? What’s my favorite media mogul-ess up to this week?”
“Well, sadly, I’m not in New York escorting 22 Goats to Good Morning America. You’ve got me beat there. But I’ve got a few exciting things lined up before I’m scheduled to jet off to meet my darling Francois in Bali.”
“Oh, God, I love Bali. Where are you staying?”
She tells me about her trip’s itinerary for a bit and then says, “Thank you again for yesterday. Angela was thrilled with the lineup of the panel—particularly, that she was able to snag a superstar like you as the event headliner.”
“I wasn’t the headliner. You were. I was just another panelist.”
“Ha! Don’t attempt false modesty with me. I didn’t have a line out the door afterwards. Did all those students want to ask you questions about the music industry, or did they just want to flirt with you?”
“Actually, most of them wanted to give me their music demos.”
“Of course, they did. And... ? Did you discover anyone particularly intriguing?”
My stomach clenches. Did CeeCee notice me losing my shit over Georgina? Is she fucking with me by asking me that? “No, not really,” I say, my heart pounding. “I don’t accept unsolicited demos, as you know.”
“Yes, and I think that’s wise. If word got out you did, you’d need bodyguards twenty-four-seven, not just at music festivals. All the more reason I’m grateful you were willing to subject yourself to the onslaught yesterday.”
“It was my pleasure. Anything for you.”
“Aw, thank you. That’s wonderful to hear because, actually, there’s something else I’d like you to do for me: give me an in-depth interview for Dig a Little Deeper.”
I chuckle. “Not this again. Anything but that.”
“Why are you being so stubborn about this?”
“Why are you? Surely, you’ve got A-listers lined up around the block, wanting to get featured in your new magazine. Why do you keep coming after me?”
“Because everyone else has already been profiled a thousand times. You, on the other hand, are a glamorous man of mystery. You’re enigmatic, Reed. Inscrutable. We can all see you’re living an enviable life, or so it seems, but what’s behind the curtain? What does it take to keep all those plates spinning? And how much has your past influenced your current success? The world knows, generally speaking, you’ve had to overcome a lot to get where you are, and yet, you’ve never once been interviewed about any of it.”
