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“And so, what, I should take Holloway out for a beer?” I quipped.
“No. Just talk to him like you would a friend. It’s the only way you’re going to get through.”
I digested Bibi’s advice even though it didn’t sit well with me. I’d never had a problem with other clients doing as I said. Itwas always with their best interests in mind. But maybe Bibi was right. Even if the thought made me somewhat uncomfortable. I tended to keep myself to myself, even in my personal life. It was the complaint of past girlfriends and boyfriends. Fucking hell, it was the reason I was still single.
The only person I’d ever opened up to was my son, Jaxon. After my ex-girlfriend Nadia—his mom—passed away two years ago, I’d become both parents to him. And he was still healing. No way was I going to let him down and not be the father he needed.
But it still wasn’t easy.
“I’ll take your advice into consideration,” I finally replied with a nod.
And I would. Even though it made my stomach flip over.
I checked the remaining rooms in the basement and then headed back up to the wings.
The guys were into their first set, and the crowd was lapping it up.
As usual, I was mesmerized by the way Iain played his guitar. It seemed effortless, even though I knew it was anything but. His fingers were so quick and nimble, and the way he held his guitar? It was like another extension of his body. When he got in the zone, with his blond hair thrown back and that look of pure joy on his face, everyone in the crowd went wild.
He and Brodie played off each other, sharing the mic at one point as Iain sang back up. The crowd loved it and screamed his name as loud as Brodie’s.
Of all the guys in the band, Brodie was the most popular for sure. He was a talented singer with an intense performance style and a demanding charisma that drew the crowds. Iain came a close second with the fans.
But it was Iain who always commandeered my attention. On and off stage.
Even though he wasn’t shy or humble when it came to his sex life, his self-deprecating jokes about his talent were telling. And surprising. He was a curious mix of guitar genius, celebrity ego, and, shockingly, imposter syndrome. You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but Iain Holloway wasn’t just another cocky rockstar. He played up the image, and most of the time, people bought it.
But underneath that glamorous veneer, Iain had layers. And secrets.
Of that, I was sure.
As sure as I was that as soon as he was done on stage, he’d be sneaking out of the venue with his man of the night…
Iain suddenly spun around, playing to Faisel on the drums, and caught me staring.
Instead of blinking and looking away, I didn’t move a muscle.
An electric throb of awareness pulsed between us.
It’s just animosity, I reasoned. Keep your enemies closer and all that.
I had no idea what I was trying to prove, but I wanted him to know I saw him. I recognized the fear in his eyes earlier. All my training and my sixth sense told me to keep pushing him for answers. Or that I should try Bibi’s method.
No matter what, I wasn’t letting him out of my sight.
Iain stuck his tongue out at me, and that’s what finally broke my trance.
Christ.
I wanted to laugh and spit nails at the same time.
Clients often irritated me, but not to this degree. Iain was making me restless in a way I’d never been with any detail.
Thankfully, he turned back to face the audience and finished his guitar solo.
“He’s incredible, isn’t he?”
Ace’s sudden voice startled me.
