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Bree rubbed her fists into her eyes and yawned. “What?”
“Bree, I...” he began, and then, in that moment, he lost his nerve. Ian hadn’t changed his mind, but he knew Bree deserved better. Thirty years from now when she told this story to their grandchildren, he didn’t want it to be embarrassing. He didn’t want Bree to have to leave out the details about how they were naked in bed and she was half-asleep. He needed to do this right. The ring, the flowers, the perfect moment...
Her show.
That would be perfect. She’d worked so hard on it. What better way to wrap up her big night than to propose in the middle of the gallery?
“Ian?” Bree roused him from his plans with a delicate hand to his cheek. “You what?”
He smiled, picking up her hand and placing a soft kiss against the palm. “I want pancakes for breakfast.”
She chuckled and shook her head. “Pancakes, huh? You made it sound like you were about to propose marriage or something. So serious looking. Well, how about you and I climb into that gigantic shower of yours and, afterward, I will make you pancakes.”
“Sounds great,” Ian agreed. And it did. If he could start every day like this for the rest of his life, things would be just about perfect.
Ten
He was late. This was not how he needed to start off tonight.
Ian shut down his laptop and slipped his phone into the holster at his hip. He was putting his suit coat on when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
Missy.
She was standing in the doorway looking like she’d walked right out of a music video. She had on leather pants, a red-and-black corset top and five-inch heels. Her makeup and platinum-blond hair were camera-ready. It was a little much for a Monday night, but Missy lived by a policy of go big or go home.
Even then, with her fake breasts nearly spilling over the top of her corset and her pouty moist lips, Ian had a hard time imagining he’d ever slept with Missy, much less nearly married her. After spending time with Bree, a more natural beauty, Missy looked overdone. Forced. She was trying too hard.
He wasn’t sure why she’d gone to so much trouble. Judging by the strained, angry expression on her face, she wasn’t here to win him back. Ian knew this moment was coming, eventually, but why did it have to come right now?
Ian silently cursed and rounded his desk. He did not have time for this. He was already late for Bree’s gallery show. He couldn’t miss it. Not only was it superimportant to her, but he knew it meant more than that. Bree was waiting, just waiting, for the other shoe to drop. For him to blow off something for work. She had been holding her breath since they had gotten back together. He couldn’t screw this up.
“Ian,” Missy said, strolling leisurely into his office. “Now that you’re home, we need to talk.”
Ian sat on the edge of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. “There’s nothing to talk about, Missy. I told you on the phone it was over.”
Missy laughed, a low sultry sound that was a trademark of her albums. It was extremely unnerving to Ian.
“Ian, do you really think I’m here to win you back?”
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sp; He swallowed. “I really don’t know why you’re here, Missy.”
“Well, you can stop worrying your little head about that. I’m not about to get on my knees and beg you to love me. Our relationship was nothing more than a fantasy I concocted to sell records. And it worked.”
She was right. Even despite the scandal, her sales numbers had climbed to near historic highs for her at SpinTrax. Ian would never understand the public. He didn’t know if her fans just didn’t care about the way Missy lived her life or if the train wreck was part of the appeal. A part of him had hoped she’d just check into rehab and fall off the radar for a while, but no such luck. She was soaking up the publicity, both good and bad.
“What’s your point, Missy?”
“My point is that I am still a valuable commodity. I’m not going to let you cast me aside, Ian.”
He frowned at her. He should’ve known this was about business. It always was with her. “If you’re so valuable, why don’t you go to another label? Certainly there’s someone else out there willing to put up with your antics for the money. Or—” he hesitated “—are you not worth the aggravation? Will no one else take you on, Missy?”
He could tell that he was right by the way her eyes narrowed angrily at him. She’d probably spent the past week with her manager trying to hunt down a new deal. If she’d been successful, she wouldn’t be here right now.
Missy’s face tightened, an unattractive red mottling her airbrushed face. Her bloodred fingernails were digging into her palms. He wouldn’t be surprised if she scratched him with those claws. He slipped his phone out and set it beside him on the desk. If he needed to dial security quickly, he could.
“You’re going to re-sign me, Ian.”
