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Harlow leaned forward. “I’ve got the guys on speakerphone.”
“We’re done with PR on this trip, Greg,” Brodie snapped. “No more interviews. Last night was bullshit.”
“Stop being oversensitive, Brodie, and get on with your job.”
“In case you didn’t hear me, I said we are not doing any interviews for the next two months. Unless, of course, Harlow can assure us that he will let us review the questions in advance.”
Silence on the other end of the line was followed by a loud sigh.
“Fine. Hines, do as Brodie requested.”
I was shocked. And confused. Greg was known to be the type never to back down.
“You got it, boss,” Harlow answered, a surprised look on his face.
“Anything else?” Greg asked.
Brodie tapped on the phone to end the call.
“We done now?” Brodie asked as he walked over to the door and opened it. “We’ve got a rehearsal to get to.”
“I’ll meet you guys over there.”
“No need. Not today.”
Harlow grabbed his phone, stood up, and left the suite without saying another word.
Brodie slammed the door behind him.
“I can’t wait until May,” Brodie stated.
“Just a few more months, mon coeur,” Van replied, pulling his husband into his arms.
“Don’t look at your socials,” I added. “And I didn’t want to say while Harlow was here, but I did message Zoe. She’s fielding a lot of inquiries back home, mostly about Iain’s mom.”
“Are you okay, Holls?” Ronin asked.
“I will be. Like I told Dawson earlier, I don’t care about speculation when it comes to my sex life, but my childhood is off-limits. If, and that’s a huge if, I ever want to talk about it, it should be my choice to initiate the conversation.”
Everyone agreed.
“Enough of this shit, let’s go play some music. It’s my form of therapy,” Iain quipped.
An hour later, we arrived at the Palais D’Or, a smaller venue in the fourteenth arrondissement. Regan met us at the rear entrance with her usual brisk nod and perfect timing.
While Xavier did the rounds of the building, I got the guys settled in with Ace and the rest of the stage crew.
Regan pulled me aside. “I just got off the phone with Greg. I gather the guys let him have it?”
“They got Harlow to agree to pre-screen the upcoming interviews, but I have my doubts. Greg’s playing a game. He knows they’re going to walk soon.”
Regan nodded. “By the way, Greg confirmed we can hire a PI to look into these text messages.”
“That’s good.”
“It’s a start. I don’t think Holloway’s in any danger as of now, but we can’t take any chances. Has he been okay so far, or is he still trying to slip out from under you?”
Out from under me? That brought to mind a very different kind of cat-and-mouse game—one that involved Iain’s gorgeous, naked body under mine. And fuck, I shouldn’t even be thinking like that while standing in front of my boss.
