Page 60 of Chasin’s Surrender

Bobby looked up and locked eyes with Chasin but answered Genevieve. “Melissa sent Len to come talk to you since you’re not returning calls. He’s in Cliff City.”

The waves of irritation rolling off Genevieve couldn’t be missed. The room filled with hostility and Chasin knew she was gonna blow.

“I’m done,” she whispered.

Those two deceptively soft words held more meaning than Chasin understood, but he knew she wasn’t only talking about her stalker. Something had snapped inside of her.

“Tell her to have Len meet us at the Gemini Group office,” Genevieve demanded. “He has ten minutes to get there. And five minutes to convince me not to fire Melissa.”

Genevieve whipped around and stormed off toward the stairs. Even in his irritation, he didn’t miss her strut. She was pissed—back ramrod straight, feet stomping—but those hips were swaying and there was no denying everything about her turned him the hell on.

It took Chasin a moment to leash his temper before he went after Genevieve, leaving Bobby on the phone still arguing with Melissa.

He didn’t see good things coming from this meeting. Hell, he didn’t want Genevieve leaving the house, but he was stuck in a hard place. She had business to conduct and there was no way in hell Len was coming to the house.

Obviously, Chasin had never met the man, but he knew of him. Lenard Summers: thirty-six, never married, and in debt up to his eyeballs. According to his credit card bills, his taste in expensive clothes, bar tabs, and fancy dinners far exceeded his income. He drove a Porsche but did not own a home, he rented an apartment, and spent more money on clothes in a month than Chasin did in a year. He was also the one on Melissa’s staff with the DUI.

Nothing in his past alluded to him being violent, but he’d had access to Genevieve, and a lot of it.

“Babe?” Chasin called when he reached the master bedroom. He took in the mess.

Chasin wasn’t a neat freak by any stretch of the imagination, but he was tidy. Something he’d learned when Genevieve took over his room—Bobby had been right, Genevieve wasn’t tidy when she was living out of a suitcase. But in the times he’d been in his room since she’d taken over his space, it hadn’t ever been this bad.

It looked like her suitcase had exploded all over the room.

“Yeah?” she called from the master bathroom.

He didn’t answer and instead kept looking around the room until Genevieve appeared. Gone were the casual jeans and tank top she had on earlier. How she had time to change into a pair of tan-colored slacks and a sheer white blouse he did not know. But what was seriously impressive was the fact there wasn’t a wrinkle to be seen. He glanced around the messy room and back at her, deciding he didn’t care why that was.

“This your idea of unpacking?” He smiled.

“What?” she snapped and looked around.

“I told you to make yourself at home, darlin’, but I would’ve amended that if I’d known you were such a slob.”

“I’m not a slob. I was looking for something,” she defended herself.

“Did you find it? Because there’s nothing left in your suitcase.”

“Yeah, I found it.”

“Wanna let me in on what’s so important you tossed your shit in a frenzy?” Genevieve’s cheeks pinkened and her head dropped forward. “Hey, Evie, I was just joking around with you.”

Genevieve’s gaze snapped to his and he saw it. Pain. Chasin wasn’t sure if he wanted to fist bump the air because she’d dropped the mask and was giving him something real, or if he wanted to murder whoever put that look on her pretty face.

“This wasn’t the dream,” she muttered.

“What, baby?”

He felt himself grow stiff. She’d already told him he’d crushed her dreams and he wasn’t sure if he could hear her tell him again.

“My whole life I wanted two things. I wanted to sing and I wanted a family. A real family. I worked my ass off to make the first part of my dream into reality. I worked hard, Chasin. I wanted this, I was hungry for it, so I made it happen. But this isn’t a dream, it’s a nightmare. And I’m not just talking about why I’m hiding in Cliff City. I’m talking about all of it, I don’t want this anymore.”

Genevieve pulled a folded up piece of paper out of her pocket and held it up. “I wrote myself a letter. The day I signed my first record deal, I wrote this and made myself some promises. I didn’t want to ever forget what I was working for.”

“Is that what you were looking for?” he queried.

“Yep. I take it with me everywhere I go. My promise to myself.”