I took a seat on the visitor’s chair and raised a brow at her. “What’s up?”
“You know how we monitor everything online and also the fan mail Wren gets?”
Unease started to climb up my back as I nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, there’s a pattern that’s emerged. A person is making threatening comments.”
I frowned. “And this is new, how?”
“Because they’re on multiple platforms and they’re purposefully concealing their identity through VPN.”
That would do it. I held my hand out for the tablet she’d been looking at and she gave it to me. I recognized the nickname the person was using, I’d seen it in recent years, but they’d never tripped my mental alarm.
“What are we doing about this?” I asked, not because I trusted the label to do jack shit, but because I needed to know what they were doing so I could adjust whatIwas going to do.
“There’s going to be extra security on tour. How much more? We’ll figure it out once we have more information on this person. But since the messages are subtly threatening and seem to revolve around Wren’s dating life, I think it’s safe to say that it’s probably a woman.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. Wren wasn’t out. He went to public events either alone or with a suitable female star off a curated list. I would never fucking understand these things. Obviously I did, but not as a lifestyle choice the label was sort of forcing on him.
“Either way, whoever they are, keep your eyes and ears open even more than you do, Ville. There’s no proof they’re going to escalate, but we need to be prepared.”
“Anything else?”
“Not at the moment. The schedule keeps updating so keep an eye on that as usual, and we’ll let you know if anything changes.”
I got to my feet, said goodbye, and left to go back to Wren’s side, where I belonged.
We had two weeks before the tour kickoff in Nashville. The American leg of the tour would also end here, after the more low key European one was done months from now.
Wren’s mood was slipping into a low hum of agitation I’d never seen before. He kept fiddling with the song he was still writing, and when we were home at the penthouse, his guitar was never far from him. There was something almost frantic in the way he wrote this song, how he kept trying to get it right.
Songwriting had always been one of his strengths. Hell, he wrote songs—both lyrics and melodies—for other people under a pseudonym and next to nobody knew about that. But this one seemed to be difficult.
I was reading on my bed one evening, hearing him with his guitar in the living room. The penthouse was big, but not massive. It was more understated than ostentatious, which suited Wren’s personality. It wasn’t what I would’ve chosen for myself, but since I went with Wren and this was the place he’d chosen as his base in Nashville, I wasn’t going to complain.
Suddenly the strumming stopped abruptly enough that I lifted my gaze to the door. Then I heard him on the phone with someone and zoned out again. The book was interesting enough, a slightly older novel I’d picked from a second hand store. It had a vampire theme, but it wasn’t a romance, instead leaning toward historical gothic something. Either way, it was fun and would be keeping me company for a while with how thick it was.
Hoping for more news on Emery’s work situation, I kept distracting myself as best as I could, and luckily the story did the trick.
I was snapped out of my reading when Wren appeared at my door.
“I finished it,” he breathed out the words, looking tired but happier than I’d seen in days.
“You did? That’s awesome.” I smiled. “You need a hug?”
He let out a laugh, then came over to dive into my arms. “Please.”
“I’ve been told I give good squishes.”
He chuckled against me, then relaxed until I was holding him in a hug. His head was on my shoulder, and I could practically feel him thinking.
“I want to get this one on the album,” he murmured finally. “It’ll be….”
“A mess. At this point.” I didn’t know everything about the process, but the album was about to go into print.
“Yeah. But… this feels like ithas tobe there.” The tone of his voice was something I hadn’t heard before. It was almost desperate, or something akin to that anyway.
I squeezed him. “Then it will be.”
