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Giselle
“Yes,” Asher said. “I’ve been observing you and keeping notes.”
Giselle raised her eyebrow. “Oh, really? What have you observed?”
He sat up straighter and adjusted his glasses, which Giselle admittedly found endearing. She had let her attraction to him slip just a little bit earlier when she called him professor, and she was still trying to regain her composure from that. Sitting in between Blaze and Asher at this secluded little corner booth was a heady feeling. She could feel the heat rolling off of their bodies, and her mind would not stop flashing back to their shirtless chests at the beach.
Get a grip, Giselle, she chided herself.
“You’re authentic, and your fans love that about you. Part of the reason they adore you so intensely is that you open up your soul when you write songs for them. They really relate to you. They feel like they understand you, and in turn, you understand them,” Asher lectured, as though he was describing some abstract concept in physics or something.
Giselle couldn’t help but grin back at him. She felt tingly and warm all over, hearing him describe the precious, intimate dynamic she had carefully built with her fanbase.
“Wow. Okay. Hit the nail right on the head with that one,” Giselle admitted.
Blaze jumped in, “And that’s why you react so strongly to the idea of sharing creative control, because it feels like a betrayal of your fans’ trust. They’re used to getting the raw, unfiltered Giselle Kingston in those lyrics, in those melodies. You don’t want to give any of that up, and I get that.”
Giselle was thrumming with the glow of their focused attention. These two men, so handsome and so talented, were so intent on learning her every detail. Inside and out. And so far, they were right on the money.
“I’ve set pretty high standards for myself,” Giselle agreed, leaning forward to sip her wine. “Well, actually—even before that, my cousins set a crazy standard for me to meet.”
“Your cousins?” Asher murmured, his dark blond brows furrowed in thought.
“Gentry Hays?” Blaze suggested. “Country blues singer, if I remember correctly.”
“That’s right,” Asher said, nodding as it came back to him. “As well as Gemma Hays, who is an acclaimed concert violinist.”
“You guys did your homework. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or freaked out,” Giselle teased.
“It’s our job to get to know you,” said Blaze.
“What makes you tick?” added Asher.
“So, if you guys already know my whole life story, isn’t it only fair I get a little bit of yours?” Giselle asked, her dainty hands folded in front of her on the table.
“Well, on the subject of high standards, I can relate,” offered Asher. He paused for a big draught of wine, then went on, “I grew up here in LA with a scientist mother and a lawyer father. My older brother never made lower than an A-minus on a single test his entire life, and he graduated from medical school to become a surgeon. A good one.”
“Damn. I’m an only child,” said Blaze. “My only competition was myself, which is why I probably always sought out ways to compete with others. I was a natural athlete and race driver, but it wasn’t enough just to do it for fun. I had to be the best.”
“I’m an only child, too,” said Giselle. “I had my cousins to run around with when we were little, although we all fell into different social circles as we got older. Gentry was always one of the cool girls. Gemma was a nerd, but a pretty one. And then me… well, I was just different. When I was growing up, it felt like nobody else out there was like me.”
“You felt alone,” Asher said softly.
“Misunderstood,” murmured Blaze.
“Yeah. Pretty much,” Giselle mumbled.
She tipped back the glass of wine and finished it in a few deep gulps, then set down the empty glass with a clink. Without a word, Asher held her glass while Blaze refilled it from the bottle. Giselle’s mood instantly brightened at the way they anticipated her needs. And tonight, expensive red wine qualified as a ‘need’.
Every moment she spent in their presence made her question the boundaries drawn up between them. She was sandwiched between them, and as one shared bottle of wine turned into two, the boys moved ever so slightly closer. Giselle knew she looked good—she had spent some time with her personal stylist earlier in the day and slyly asked for a little help on tonight’s ensemble. She just wanted to look professional and elegant, she told herself.
But really, she wanted to look like their dreams come true.
Giselle wanted to even the playing field. She knew how loose her control of the situation was becoming. Her body was on fire just being near them. Fantasy after fantasy sprung from the back of her mind while they talked and shared wine. She couldn’t abide the idea that she was lusting over them like this. She was too vulnerable. So she needed them to want her, too. If they were all fighting the same desire, they were on equal footing. They were so wrapped up in one another, they never even ordered any food besides a basket of freshly baked bread. She hoped the carbs would be enough to offset some of her liquid courage.
But when she stood up to go to the bathroom while they waited for the bill near closing time, she realized that was not the case. She was wobbly on her gold strappy heels, the twinkling lights of the restaurant making her dizzy. Both men stood up to offer support, but Giselle waved them off with a giggle.
“I’m good, I’m good. I’m just gonna run to the bathroom. I got this,” she said, already traipsing off to the bathroom.
