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“That’s what he told me as well. Obviously, that was a lie. Please let me handle this.”
He studies me a moment and then says, “Not this time, Bella.” And then he backs out of the group and starts walking.
My fingers curl into my palms and I grumble frustrated words. I don’t even look at Dash or Allie. I rotate out of the circle and catch up with Tyler right as he joins Malcolm, who is focused on me. “Josh told me what happened.”
“Which was what?” Tyler demands.
“Tyler,” I warn tightly.
Malcolm holds up a hand. “It’s fine, Bella. He should be protective. Frankly, I respect the hell out of him for looking out for you.” He gives Tyler a nod and refocuses on me. “Josh lost his brother a couple of months back. He’s been acting a fool ever since, drinking way too much, and he’s going into rehab. When he gets out, if you feel you can, he needs a second chance.”
My heart twists with the idea of losing Dash and with the certainty that addiction can change who we are and how we act. I’ve seen it with Dash when he spirals, blames himself for toomany things, and then hits the fight clubs. “The door is open,” I say. “I’m sorry you had to come. He said you were traveling.”
“I just got back from Paris, but my absence from the party was more like hiding in the studio trying to get out of a slump. I need to stay out of the public eye and just focus. All this Hollywood stuff seems to be in my head.”
I know a few things about Malcolm. One being he likes fine whiskey. Another is that sometimes he needs to just come down a bit and talk through things. Maybe Tyler can be that for him. I know he’s been there for Dash and known just the way—man to man—to snap him out of shit, and vice versa.
“You need to stop thinking so much,” I say. “And I know just the way. You’re a whiskey lover, right? Don’t tell him I told you, but rumor is, Tyler stashes some pretty exclusive bottles in his safe.”
Malcolm's lips curve and he glances at Tyler. “The word is out, man. What do you have?”
Tyler motions to the door and says, “Since the word is out, let’s go take a look.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Malcolm replies, his mood shifting, lighter now. He offers me his hand and when I accept, he catches my hand. “You, gorgeous lady, are always professional, sharp, and just killing it for my career. Thank you. And I’m deeply sorry.”
“My pleasure. Now go relax and enjoy that whiskey. We’ll talk next week about what’s next for you.” He kisses my hand, but there is nothing sexual about any of his affection. It’s all country gentlemen, a language a girl in Nashville learns to understand.
Tyler motions to the door again, and Malcolm starts walking. Tyler lingers a second, his gaze warm on my face, when he says, “You owe me a bottle of whiskey when he gets a payday.”
“No,” I say. “You will owe me a commission.”
He actually laughs and walks away, and those butterflies are back, where the bees should be. Because Tyler Hawk is a bastard. I’d best never forget that.
Chapter Fifteen
Bella
Thanks to Malcolm and Tyler, all Dash and Allie want to talk about is Josh and my honor. I swear Dash is so pleased with Tyler, I can’t help but wonder what he’d think if he knew Tyler had been between my legs, but I don’t go there. I won’t go there. Ever. Again.
I think.
With the promise of pizza in their near future and an invite for me to join them, I send them on their way home. I swing by my office, grab my things, and meet Kelly, one of my fellow staffers, an attorney in the rights department, at the elevator. I’m thrilled to have the reinforcements in case Tyler shows up, and willingly hitch a ride downstairs with her. Kelly is new to her job and the firm, but a total sweetie with curly, red Nicole Kidman-esque locks. We chat about the party on the ride down.
Once we’re in the garage, I hit the clicker on my shiny new blue Mercedes, bought compliments of my own hard work, not my father’s bank account, or my inheritance, thank you very much. I’m proud of my father, but both he and my mother came from nothing. I wanted to prove I could do the same. I lived poor and fought hard to get to the secure place I am today, at only twenty-seven, three years before my goal of thirty.
Kelly groans as she approaches her car. “Nooooo! This cannot be happening.”
I step left to see what is wrong and spy her flat tire. “If it’s a run-flat tire you’re all good, at least for the night.”
“It’s not. While those are ideal, no changing of the tire, it just becomes its own spare, my car is older and used. The tire is theold fashion in-the-trunk spare. I swear I bought a luxury model to impress, not be practical, which has proven to be a mistake that keeps on giving. It has one issue after another.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s late. Everyone will leave the party soon. Do you know how embarrassing it will be to change my tire, and have someone like Tyler Hawk show up and see me sprawled out on the ground?”
The elevator dings and I swear Kelly rotates, a mask of dread on her face as she waits on whoever is going to exit, the dread morphing to horror as Tyler appears. He spots us instantly and does that long-legged, arrogant, way-too-sexy walk that he walks.
He glances at me, a hint of something I can’t read in his eyes before he surveys the tire. “You have a spare?” he asks her.
“Yes,” she says. “I was about to put it on.” She sets her things on the hood. “Just about to get to work.”
“I’ll change it,” he says, indicating his briefcase. “Let me put this up.” He extracts his keys from his pocket and clicks the locks on his silver Porsche, which is one of the expensive, elite ones, and my father would approve. He does approve. I’d snuck a picture and sent it to him once. Okay, more than one.
