“They didn’t believe you when you told them the truth?”
“I didn’t tell them. Like I said, I was a self-centered asshole and took offence at everyone thinking I could stoop so low. I let them believe what they wanted to believe.”
“Seriously?” She balks. “For how long?”
A lifetime. “Two years.”
“Damn. All that time, you let Sidney hate you for something that wasn’t your fault?”
“Sean, too. They both thought I was trash. But again, it was my fault. The recording never should’ve existed.”
She reaches out again, but I give her a scathing look before her fingers make contact.
“Sorry.” She retracts her hand. “What changed? What happened after two years to bring the past back into the present?”
“I quit the band.”
Her eyes widen and this time I can tell it isn’t fake. “How did I not know this?”
“Nobody does, because I have an exceptional band manager who kept the news quiet. But the guilt had done a number on me, and I couldn’t create music anymore. That’s what the world doesn’t realize—if it weren’t for Sidney Higgins, Reckless Beat would be a fading memory.”
CHAPTER 3
Sidney
“It’s great to finally meet you, Linden.” I shake his hand, his eyes a deep-sea blue as they meet mine.
“I agree.” He gives a devilish grin while strands of his jet-black hair kiss his cheeks. “You’ve got quite a reputation.”
My heart kicks up a notch. Was that an insult or a distasteful compliment?
“I’ve done a lot of digging this week,” he continues. “I think I’ve listened to every song you’ve worked on at least fifteen times. You’re quite the songstress.”
My cheeks heat, the blush spreading down my neck.
It’s been too long between comments of praise. Professionally, at least.
“Thank you.” I release his hand and lead the way inside. “I’ve been lucky to work with exceptionally talented artists.”
He catches up to me, his lips still kicked in what must be a constant show of playboy confidence. “Sweet house.” He tilts his head back as we approach the few steps to the entry.
“It’s Mason’s. But it feels like home. We spend half our time here and the other half in an apartment we share in Manhattan.”
“Your man has good taste.”
I bristle, my pace faltering as I pass the threshold. Is he flirting with me?
“Sorry,” he blurts. “That came out a little too…”
“Friendly?” I continue down the hall, Linden a few feet behind.
He huffs a chuckle. “Yeah. I guess it comes with the territory, right? In public, I’m meant to be this sexed up musician who owns his shit, but seriously, I’m nervous as fuck about working with someone of your experience. It kinda feels like I’m talking a mile a minute.”
Really?
My pulse skips a beat.
I pivot to face him at the entrance of the open living room. The expression peering back at me is no longer sinfully cocky. His handsome features are pinched with regret, his ocean eyes squinted in apology.
“I get it.” I smile. “Believe me. Mason used to pretend to be what the fans wanted a lot of the time, too, and switching between that persona and who you really are can be tough. But you’re safe to be yourself with me.”
“I appreciate it.” His shoulders relax. “Should we try this again?” He holds out his hand. “I’m Linden Lee. It’s an honor to be working with you.”
My heart warms. Squeezes. “It’s an honor for me, too.”
We shake again. Exchange grins. Then continue toward the kitchen.
“I’m not sure where you prefer to work, but I’ll take you on a tour until you find a place that sparks your creativity. We can relax poolside. Or even hide out in Mason’s recording studio…” I turn my attention to my fiancé sitting next to Sophia by the outside dining table.
They’re close.
Too close.
“Maybe poolside isn’t a good idea,” I mutter. “Would you like to see the studio?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Linden stops beside me with a shrug as Sophia reaches out, placing her hand on Mason’s arm.
Bile forms in my stomach.
She helped destroy my career, now she’s attempting to do the same with my engagement.
“Everything okay?” Linden asks.
“Mm-hmm.” I can’t hide the growl from my tone.
He laughs. “I gather she’s not a friend.”
“Not quite.” I square my shoulders, determined to fight my insecurities.
“I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. Look at him.” He jerks his chin at Mason. “Your man is giving her a death stare.”
I nod. He definitely is. But my fiancé isn’t the problem. I trust him. It’s Sophia’s disrespect. The audacity. The fact she still thinks of me as nothing. A nobody. Someone she can walk all over.
“Come on.” Linden wraps an arm around my shoulders, steering me away from a potential crime scene. “Point me toward the recording studio.”
I wince. “Sorry.” I’m being unprofessional and we haven’t even started working yet.
“Don’t be. I bet you must get sick of women throwing themselves at him.”
“Not really. We keep to ourselves a lot.” We’ve become hermits, all because of my issues with the public. “The studio is this way.” I lean to the left, sliding out from beneath his hold to stride for the hall. “Is it too early to drink?”
He chuckles. “You and I are going to get along just fine.”
“It’s either alcohol or homicide.”
His laughter grows, echoing off the walls. “I can ride shotgun on either decision. Any publicity is good publicity, right?”
My stomach twists again with wholehearted disagreement.
Maybe it’s too soon to be working on something that isn’t heavily scripted by Mason. Maybe I’ll never be independent again.
Linden’s humor fades. “Shit. It’s my turn to apologize again. It’s obvious you’ve dealt with a lot of scrutiny that didn’t work in your favor. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“It’s okay.” I keep walking. “You don’t have to watch what you say around me. I’ve heard it all.”
“I’m sure you have, but…”
I stop at the last door at the end of the hall as he runs a rough hand through his hair.
“Seriously, Sidney, I’m really nervous about working with you. I don’t want to mess this up. I’ve heard so many good things… I just…”
“You can’t mess anything up.” I grab the door handle and twist. “There are no rules to follow as far as I’m concerned. Say whatever comes to mind. Be honest. Be spontaneous. I want you to feel free to be vulnerable because I plan on doing the same.”
I step into the climate-controlled room and head straight toward the bar fridge under the control board counter.
“Holy shit. Look at this place.” Linden’s voice is filled with awe. “When Lynch does something, he does it right, doesn’t he?”