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Isabella.
Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders as she huddled into a thin sweater. He jumped off the stage and hustled to her.
Her topaz eyes were rimmed in red. She crossed her arms over her stomach and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I can’t do this, Logan.” Her voice cracked on his name.
Logan’s chest tightened. “Izzy.” He looked over his shoulder. All eyes were on them. He ushered her outside and took her hands. “I’m sorry about earlier. I handled it badly.”
Understatement.
He’d frozen like a freaking deer in headlights.
Shame and embarrassment brewed in his gut. That Aimee could reduce him to that level always made him insane. At first, he’d tried to laugh her off, then ignore her. He’d even tried to hit the dating scene to dissuade her. But Aimee was a master at deflection and working the tabloids.
Each one made him look worse, and sound like the unstable one. For over a year he’d reacted in anger until no one wanted to be around him. As emasculating as it was, he’d finally had to get help.
But the largest part of his shame was that he brought it on himself. How was he supposed to tell Izzy that? That it was his callous behavior that had brought the shitstorm to him.
He cupped her cheek, but she backed away. “Don’t.”
He dropped his hand and stuffed them both in his pockets. He cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming down.”
“Thanks—are you serious? I have over twenty photographers outside my shop. I had to borrow a wig from my friend just to get out the door.”
His eyebrows snapped down. “Did they follow you?”
Her eyes widened. “That’s what you’re asking me?”
“I don’t want them following you, or hurting you.”
“Don’t worry about them, you’re doing a bang-up job.” She poked him in the shoulder. “You just stood there while she spewed all that nonsense. Do you know what that sounded like?”
Logan scrubbed his face with his hands. “Izzy.”
“It sounded a helluva lot like I’m the other woman. All those pretty words last night, just a line, right?”
“What?” He grasped her shoulders. “God, no.”
“I should have known better.” She tipped her head back. “I kept asking myself why you were so adamant about making me feel like we had something. It’s what you do.”
He reared back as if she’d slapped him. “Is that what you think?”
“You get off on leading a woman on. Make her feel like she’s the only one. That the super-rich, super handsome rock star feels something for you.”
“No.”
But wasn’t that what he’d done with Aimee? How many parties had they hooked up just to get the paparazzi talking? To play jokes on them. Had he led her on one too many times?
She shrank back. “God, how could I have been so stupid? This is why Bad Bella was gone and buried. Because a bad boy with sexy green eyes and a fleet of women shouldn’t be able to hurt me. I should know better.”
“Izzy, no.”
“Then tell me. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that you don’t string women along.”
“You’re different. We’re different.”
“Why? Why would we be different? We met four days ago. Four. We didn’t have time to be different.”
Logan’s shoulders tightened and his stomach pitched. He was losing her. He could see it. Why would she want to be with him? Not after today. He’d left her alone in that mess. “You’re right.”
