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Nine
“They’re fresh, unique. The market needs a band like this.” I yawn, rubbing a hand down my face. I’m bored with this and want to get back to Nat. She fucking consumes my every thought. The little fucking minx is intoxicating.
“It doesn’t matter if they’re going to be a nightmare to manage.” Ronan’s jaw tightens and his eyes narrow on me.
After convincing the lead singer of Berlin Scandal to jot his fucking name on the dotted line, my brother’s been giving me grief. He doesn’t do divas unless they’re young, naïve, and calling him daddy. Xavi wasn’t being a diva per se, he just wanted to make sure they weren’t getting screwed over. The music industry has changed over the years, and artists have a lot more power than they used to. They have a lot more say in the music they produce. That’s the company my brother wanted to make, and we’re a standout label for that reason. We want the talent to be involved in every step of their career. If they’re happy and making music, the audience will believe in them and the money will come with them. Win-win.
“If he turns out to be a problem, you’re fucking fixing said problem.” He groans, sipping whiskey from a tumbler. If we didn’t share the same dark eyes, you’d never know we are related. We couldn’t be more opposite, but we’re a team. And family. He trusts me, and that’s why we work—why Harose works.
Where I’m all visible tattoos and bad boy persona, Ronan is a suit with a no-nonsense attitude. People take him seriously. He’s stern and bossy and an overall dick when he wants to be. His suits are expensive and his business sense is spot-on. People don’t fuck with my brother for fear of getting sent to the goddamn corner or getting an ass whipping.
“We done?” I ask, my ass bouncing in the seat, desperate to get back to Nat.
“You got somewhere to be?” he mocks, raising a brow.
“I do. Asshole.” I grin as I stand and slip on my jacket.
“What the fuck’s going on with you?” he asks, sitting forward to study me like he can read the answers to his question on my face. It reminds me of a time when he was responsible for my wellbeing. When I’d fuck around at school and he’d hand my ass to me like he was my damn father. Three years. We’re three years apart, but ever since Mom got sick, he stepped into a parental role that he never left. Eighteen came and went. Ronan is still a bossy, nosy dick.
“What do you mean?” I play aloof because I don’t know what’s going on with me. I’ve never felt like this about a woman before.
“You’re acting differently. What is it that you’re in a hurry to get back to or should I say with whom?”
Damn. Am I that transparent?
“Spill it, little brother,” he orders. “Who the hell has snared the legendary pussy pleaser, Ren fucking Hayes?”
Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and shrug. “It’s new. She’s new, refreshing. Fucking exquisite.” I chuckle, conjuring up her beautiful form in my mind. Her curves, the little dimples at the base of her spine. The birthmark that almost resembles a star in her inner thigh. Her giggle when I touch her sides where she’s ticklish. Fuck, the way she gasps for air when I restrict her pretty little mouth.
A slapping of Ronan’s hand hitting his knee drags me from my thoughts. “You fucking love this girl.” It’s a statement, not a question—a wrong one.
“Shut up. I wouldn’t know how to love a girl like her or any fucking woman.”
You fucking love this girl.
It’s been two weeks. No one falls in love that fast. But I’ve been eyeing her since the trial. I don’t love her. Denial.
“Ren, I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Like what?” I snap, picking up a pen from his desk and tossing it at him.
Chuckling, he shakes his head and props one leg up, resting his ankle on his knee as he leans back in his leather chair. “My baby brother is in love.”
Before I can answer or throw something bigger at him, the door opens and his flavor of the month walks in and stops in her tracks when she sees me in here. Her eyes widen and go between the two of us.
“Oops sorry, Daddy.” She bites on her finger and twirls her hair with the other hand. “I forgot to knock.” Her tone is soft and innocent, but her eyes scream anything but.
“You’re a bad girl, Starla,” my brother growls. “You know the rules.”
Her cheeks flush, and I roll my eyes. Can’t they save this shit for when I’m not here?
“I do,” she replies, her voice breathless. “I deserve a spanking.”
Rising to his feet and moving around his desk, Ronan ushers me to the door with a firm hand on my shoulder. “Duty calls, brother. But we will revisit this conversation.”
