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“What about the rest of the band?” Dawson asked. “I think we should inform them about what’s going on.”
“Brodie knows,” I blurted out, finally finding my voice. “I mean, about the messages.”
Regan nodded. “The band, Van, Harlow, and Ace. That’s all for now. Bibi, why don’t you join me for the briefing.”
“Of course,” Bibi replied and followed Regan down the hallway.
Leaving me alone with Dawson.
He pulled out his phone and took pictures of the flowers and the card, then pocketed the note.
“You okay?” he asked me.
“Would you be?” I snapped.
“No.”
Dawson threw the flowers in the trash, then steered me into the second dressing room and closed the door.
“We’re going to do everything we can to figure out who’s behind this. I promise.”
I nodded, my body shaking, my mouth suddenly unable to move.
“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Iain.”
“Can I just go back to getting ready for the show? I need my routine, now more than ever.”
“As long as you promise not to sneak off.”
“There’s no one for me to sneak off with,” I scoffed and began to pace. “I can’t smoke a joint because pot’s illegal here. The only thing I can do is drink or smoke a cigarette. Oddly enough, I’m not in the mood for booze, and I forgot my smokes back at the hotel?—”
“Iain—”
“And now, thanks to that fucking asshole stalker, I’ll have you guys on my ass every second. It’s only going to get worse from here.”
“Sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that!” I hissed and placed my hand over his mouth. “Are you crazy? What if someone hears you?”
He pulled my hand away. “Like who?”
“Like your boss. Bibi. Harlow?—”
“Iain—”
“What if this thing escalates, and I have to go into hiding? What then? I think I’m gonna?—”
“Iain!” Dawson shouted.
“What?”
Dawson backed me up against the door and cupped my face in his hands.
Fuck, why did nothing feel as good as his touch?
“Look at me,” he demanded. “Look at me.”
I finally did as he asked and watched his eyes darken.
