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Because this sex hadn’t been casual.
Rowe Prince was casual like a lightning strike.
Like a supernova.
Like free fall, in that heart-stopping moment before the parachute opens.
I couldn’t imagine how I was supposed to wish him well after this weekend, leave him with a few contacts for his project, and let him slip back off to Noplace, Indiana, without me.
The way he talked, the way he laughed, the way he saw the world, the way he let himself be trusting and vulnerable with me… all of it was electrifying and addictive. More thrilling than a hundred adventures to far-flung places because Rowe was endlessly unpredictable. Every part of him, right down to the freckles on his cheeks, was fascinating.
Which was a real problem because casual was all we could ever be.
I had no interest in an actual relationship. This wasn’t because I’d sworn them off after some terrible breakup, like Silas had, or because I was busy fucking my way through all fifty states like Landry. It was because I was alreadyina relationship with Sterling Chase—the company, not the adorable liar—and I liked it that way.
And even if I didn’t? Even if I was prepared to somehow make room in my life for a—my brain caught on the word—aboyfriend? How could I do that in good conscience when I would have to hide so much from him about my role at Sterling Chase, about my brotherhood and our money and our secrecy pact? I’d end up telling more lies than Rowe in his bunny tux… only worse, because I’d be lying to someone I cared about.
There was also the tiny matter of Rowe having family obligations calling him back to Linden, where the only thing that interested me was a certain Cupid picture hanging on his mother’s living room wall.
The last thing I wanted to do was lead Rowe on or hurt him in any way, which meant I had to end this immediately. But—my arm tightened around Rowe’s shoulders, and he nestled closer with a sleepy sigh—I didn’t know how.
The mind-numbing circular thoughts finally lulled me into an uneasy sleep, and when the phone rang sometime later, I was groggy and disoriented.
“Bash?” Rowe mumbled into my chest. “Wha—?”
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. “Shh. It’s Kenji, my assistant. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”
It was just after two in the morning, not a time for social calls, and panic slithered through my mind as I remembered a different phone call several years ago, when Dev’s brother had died in a terrible car crash. Nudging Rowe’s warm body off mine as I slid out of bed left me feeling even more uneasy and wrong-footed.
“Kenji?” I croaked into the phone. “Who’s hurt? What’s wrong?”
“Everyone’s safe,” Kenji said immediately. Under his breath, he added a menacing, “Until I get a hold of them, at least. Fucking Landry, Bash. I swear to Christ.”
I ran a hand over my face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “What’d he do? Does he need bribe money or bail money?”
“The second. This time for property damage and public intoxication.” Kenji’s voice was nearly vibrating with anger.
I sighed. I had no idea why Landry pulled the stunts he pulled or why he almost seemed to enjoy being a thorn in Kenji’s side. “Okay—” I began.
“No. No, it is definitelynotokay, Bash. Because this time, he took our favorite rock star along for the ride. And of course he waited until I was already in Florida for my grandmother’s birthday so I can’t even make this go away before the media gets a hold of it.”
“Zane, too?” I closed my eyes and groaned. “Fuck.”
“Precisely.” Kenji took a deep breath and let loose, his words practically tumbling over themselves he was so worked up. “They’re in Philly. Zane played at the Tower Theater last night, so I booked him into a nice hotel near the venue. But then fucking Landry showed up to watch him play—which, like, did Landry bother totellanyone where he’d be?Noooooo, of course not, because then someone might get to enjoy their weekend in Florida without needing to send him a hundred ‘Where are you and who are you fucking?’ texts on a daily basis so I can make sure I have the NDAs ready and/or a description for the police when one of these randos murders him in his bed—”
“Kenji…” I said, trying to calm him down.
But Kenji was too upset to be calmed. “Zane’s publicist already has him convinced that a rock star needs to be freakingnocturnaland either fighting or fucking someone every waking moment, which is bad enough— like, are you a musician, Zane? Or a horny, rabid raccoon?—but you just know that once Landry was on the scene, he made sure things got dialed up to eleven. The two of them ended up in some groupie’s hotel room on the other side of town, where they proceeded to engage in Landry’sotherfavorite activity—when he’s not fucking anonymous strangers, that is—getting drunk and trashing a hotel room.” Kenji blew out an aggrieved breath. “They’re cooling their heels at the police station now. And hereIam, stuck in Boca Raton…”
While Kenji continued to bitch, I glanced over at Rowe. He’d sat up in bed, gorgeous curls going every which way, and furrowed his eyebrows in worry. “Everything okay?” he whispered.
I covered the phone. “Define okay.” I rolled my eyes. “No one’s hurt, but there’s been a huge clusterfuck, and I need to drive down to Philly to bail my friends out. You can go back to sleep.”
Instead of snuggling back under the covers, though, Rowe squeezed my hand, then moved off the bed and out to the other bedroom, like maybe he didn’t want to be disturbed.
“Bash?” Kenji demanded. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah, sorry. I was talking to… never mind.” I shook my head, still staring at where Rowe had disappeared into the darkened living area. “I’m gonna go get them. If the guys call back, tell them I’m on my way.”
