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“So do I,” Tomas says. “A lot.”
They exchange a knowing look.
“Perhaps you might want to join us for a nightcap, Arianne.”
“I like the way you think,” Tomas tells Anders.
“I thought so,” Anders says before returning his attention to me. “It would be our pleasure to play something just for you. Let’s call it a private concert…”
“Gentlemen, we’ve already gone through this.” Beckett’s tone is borderline icy. “There are tons of other women in the room to choose from. Just not Arianne.” His response startles me. That tinge of possessiveness does something to me.
Anders holds Beckett’s stare.
Beckett arches an eyebrow defiantly.
“My apologies,” Anders says with a slight bow of the head.
“Noted.” Tomas does the same.
“It’s a shame, though,” Anders says.
“Indeed,” Tomas says.
“That’s just the way the cookie crumbles,” Beckett says with a tight smile.
All three men stare at each other, and it’s as if I’m excluded from a silent conversation.
What am I missing?
The testosterone floating around us is overwhelming.
Tomas turns to me. “We’re honored you like our music.”
“When you play, it’s like you lose yourself to the music,” I say. “There’s so much passion in each note. It’s amazing how you’ve turned an instrument that was almost relinquished to becoming a relic, forgotten by so many, into something hot and sensual. And let’s not forget how well you navigate from classical to hard rock. It’s uncanny how you do that. Without you, I wouldn’t appreciate rock music.”
“What a compliment,” Anders says.
“You have a way with words,” Tomas says. “Is she your new publicist?” he asks Beckett.
“No. Rhys and I brought her in to expand SCORE,” Beckett says.
“Speaking of the devil, where is he?” Tomas asks.
“Urgent business in Vietnam,” Beckett says.
“Got it,” Tomas says.
“So, who did you pay—or sleep with—to get on the invitation list for tonight?” Beckett changes the subject.
“Guess who’s going to be the face—and the face—of Sennheiser’s new international advertisement campaigns?” Anders answers Beckett’s question with a question.
“Congratulations!” Beckett says.
“Thanks!” Anders says. “I’m surprised they didn’t want to use your pretty boy face, Christensen.”
“I don’t even plaster my pretty boy face on SCORE products,” Beckett says. “Not to mention, I’m Sennheiser’s competitor—”
Anders and Tomas jerk before pulling their phones out of their pocket.
