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“You’ll let me walk? From everything?” she whispers, sounding incredulous.
That is the last thing I want, but...
“Yes. From everything.”
That would be a huge mistake on my part. Letting her break the contract would most likely kill my record deal. I’d be an idiot to let her go. I’m on the verge of changing my entire life, and so much of it hinges on this girl.
Scarlett Lancaster holds so much power over me in the palm of her hand, it’s downright scary.
She’s quiet for a moment, and so am I. The traffic goes rushing by, the light from the streetlamps coming through the window and flickering on her face, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her as beautiful as she looks right now. In this fucking moment.
“What if I told you I don’t want to walk?”
Hope rises within me, and I mentally tamp it down. “You don’t want to?”
“No. We signed a contract. And I won’t break my promise to you.”
She sounds so solemn, so endearing. If she only knew how this entire city and all the other cities that surround it are full of people who stab each other in the back and break deals all the damn time. She’s the only one who’s soft and sweet, surrounded by a bunch of jaded sharks.
Including me.
“Just... don’t move too fast, okay? Be patient with me.” She bites her lip again, and I groan like I just got stabbed in the dick, burying my face in her cleavage once more.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” I murmur into her tits, meaning every word I say.
It’s true. If I have to be patient and wait for her, she’s going to straight-up kill me. And she doesn’t even realize the hold she has on me.
Scarlett slides her fingers into my hair, holding me to her as she rests her cheek on top of my head. “I understand, though, if you don’t want to wait.”
“I’ll wait,” I say without hesitation. This girl...
I have a feeling she’ll be worth it.
CHAPTER27
SCARLETT
“Shit.”
I lurk outside the den where Tate is working, going still when I hear him curse. He’s been tense since our first night here, after the incident at the restaurant. The moment in the back of the car. I figured it was sexual frustration at first, but he’s been working in this room nonstop since we arrived in Los Angeles. Sometimes I’ll go to bed and he’ll be in here, only for me to wake up and find him in the same position.
Like he didn’t even bother going to bed.
He’s currently muttering under his breath and scribbling words inside of a journal, which is what I keep seeing him do every time I walk past the open door. Or he’s having meetings with Roger, or on Zoom with Simon.
But when Roger comes over, it’s worse. He always leaves Tate even more tense than before he arrived.
It’s been... difficult, the last few days. Not for me but for him.
Tate begins to hum, his deep, smooth voice washing over me, and then he starts to sing.
“I’ve got you no matter what, but you don’t put your trust in me...” His voice drifts, the melody over. “No. That’s pure shit.”
Deciding to make my presence known, I appear in the doorway, waving at him awkwardly. “No it’s not. I liked it.”
He glances over at me, his expression flat, his eyes dull. Clearly the man is exhausted. And stressed. “Hey. What are you up to?”
Noticing how he didn’t acknowledge my compliment, I let it go.
