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Nate stepped up to me and offered his hand. “Merci encorefor inviting us tonight, Van. We really appreciate it. Can we talk after the concert?”
Then I remembered I was still holding onto Brodie’s hand. I dropped it and stepped away from temptation, reaching for Nate.
“Yeah, of course,” I nodded and shook Nate’s hand. “Looking forward to Halloween.”
“It’s going to be a night to remember,” Nate replied as he and his band brothers gave hugs to the Wayward Lane boys and waved goodnight to the rest of us.
Killmine headed back into the club while we headed for the SUVs.
Brodie walked and talked with Holloway, making sure his friend was okay. I was following behind them when Brodie turned around and gave me a glare over his shoulder.
I wasn’t happy about our disruption either, but now was not the time.
Reality was seeping in, along with doubts and concerns that began to float to the surface of my mind.
I’d almost kissed Brodie in that club.
A step I’d never taken before with any man. Never mind someone I worked with. For.
What the fuck was I doing?
My legs were weak, and my hands were shaking, my phone almost slipping out of my fingers.
The heated pull between me and Brodie was undeniable, so fucking real.
I didn’t know whether to be ecstatic or laugh out loud at the predicament I was in.
I’d never crossed the professional line. It was just asking for trouble, and yet… I wanted to be reckless with him.
Brodie made me feel things I’d all but given up on ever feeling.
I found myself alone in the SUV with Dawson and Lennie, a secondary bodyguard, while Brodie went with Holls, Ronin, and Faise.
My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the notifications.
Holloway’s incident at the club was already making the rounds of social media.
There were many concerned comments asking if he was okay. Like the pro he was, Holloway posted a photo of him and Brodie in the car, smiles on both their faces. That would calm the fan frenzy for now.
Without thinking, I zoomed in on Brodie and saved the picture as a screenshot.
Then my phone rang.
It was my boss.
Greg was a smart businessman but a total control freak. You don’t make it to the top of the music world by being anything less.
We’d had our share of arguments over stuff like press access and creative control, but overall, I respected Greg. Brodie, of course, had his fair share of fights with him. Brodie was never shy about speaking up—for himself or for others. He was determined to walk his own path, even if it put him at odds with the label.
Greg knew talent and he rewarded it. He respected his musicians and they returned it. For the most part.
Not that I was being all that respectful myself.
Only a half hour ago, I was eager to shove my tongue down the throat of Greg’s biggest star. I could just imagine the anger that would unleash if Greg found out about that.
Esti de câlisse de tabarnak... Translation: fuckity fuck fuck.
“Everything’s under control,” I answered in my calmest voice.
