The surge of relief I felt at that was strong, and I would not be examining why. Nope. Today I lived in denial.
“I honestly had many expectations when it came to meeting you,” I told her with a shake of my head. A small laugh escaped. “Many of them ended in bloodshed.” Another laugh. “Actually, all of them did. I never for one moment thought this was how it would go.”
Valentina let out a chuckle of her own. “I’m just sorry that I can’t control the rest of my family. I have to keep playing the game, which includes allowing them to believe I’m heartbroken by your appearance in A’s life. But I wanted you to know, in person, that I am so grateful that his one true love is back. He’s spoken a lot about you over the years, and even though he’s never said anything specific about your time together, it was always clear that he never got over you. I could tell.”
She was smiling gently, and at this point I was more uncomfortable than when I’d thought she was going to kill me. “Uh, I mean, we’re not even friends, let alone lovers.” Despite my pregnant belly between us. Crap. I gestured to the swell under my dress. “This is just a short-term solution to save us all in the long term.”
Her smile didn’t fade. “It wouldn’t matter the danger; Angelo would never make this kind of commitment with just anyone. Only you. Only his Bella. Besides, babies are hardly short term.” She laughed gently, but I couldn’t muster up even a smile in return.
My body burned as my heart pulsed faster, and the very visceral reaction I was having should alarm me. Angelo and I were an act, just like Angelo and Valentina were.
I couldn’t forget that, and I couldn’t fall into the falsely woven fairytale of us being long-lost loves.
The truth of it all was that I was just a temporary visitor in his life, and as soon as we figured out how to get around his father’s bloodthirsty nature, I’d be gone.
In the wind, just like I’d been eight years ago.
seven
GRAYSON
My fists slammed into the bag over and over without any control. Pure power and anger rode those punches, and I was throwing everything into it. A tearing sound registered a beat later and I saw that I’d smashed right through the cover, rags and sand pouring out around my hits.
Breathing heavily, I pulled back and fought to control the red tinging my vision. As the weeks had passed with very little information, teamed with the lack of movement in returning Billie to our lives, my mood had grown beyond fucked-up. The others were on their way here now so we could talk music, but my head was so far from the rock star game that I wondered if maybe I was done with this life.
If I didn’t have contractual obligations that, if unfulfilled, would cause issues for my band, I’d probably just walk away.
When the knock sounded on the front door, I left the small workout room, unwrapping my hands. The wraps were black, which hid the blood from all the new cuts across my knuckles. The boxing bag wasn’t the only object I’d broken recently.
Opening the door, I found Rhett, Jace, and Florence standing there. Well, Flo was four steps back while Rhett shot her dark looks, but the three of them were here, at least. This might be the final album we ever made together, and despite everything, I hoped that we found our rhythm.
“Hi,” I said, voice rougher thanks to my raging workout. “Come in. I’ll shower and change.”
As I turned away, Jace called my name. “There’s no time,” he said.
“Why the fuck not?” I shot back straight away. “We’ve got all day.”
He shook his head sadly, and the sexiest man alive for the past five years running looked like a bag of shit as he ran a hand through his hair, more baggage under his eyes than Flo and Tom had in their relationship. “The label is kidnapping us to ensure that this album gets made. You have five minutes to throw clothes in a bag, and then we need to exit to the limo.”
Fuck. That only meant one thing when it came to Big Noise Records.
“No,” I said bluntly. “I refuse.” I had too many things going on here, and how could I get updates on Billie if I was locked up with my bandmates? Not to mention the cameras…
Rhett, wobbling on his feet, glared daggers. “Do you think we’d all be fucking here if refusal was an option? We refuse, we get sued. And I need money for drugs to numb the noise. So pack your shit and get your stubborn fuck of an ass in the car.”
He stomped back down toward the street, his steps weaving dangerously. Rhett was far from sober right now, and that was cause for concern.
I arched an accusing brow at Jace, and he had the good grace to look ashamed. Rhett was his responsibility, and one he’d grossly neglected over the last few months.
“Come on, man,” our lead singer coaxed. “It’s time we all moved on. Forgive and forget and all that shit. We’re too good to let some chick tear us apart.”
My blood boiled, but I swallowed it back. He didn’t see what I had seen in Billie’s video all those weeks ago. He didn’t see the prisoner being coached on what to say. He just saw his first love, the girl who broke his heart, living down to all his shitty expectations.
“This isn’t about her,” I replied, glancing away as a trickle of blood splattered the doorframe. I needed to clean it up before it set in. “I can’t leave right now. Maybe I can Zoom call in or some shit.”
Jace scoffed. “Sure. Whatever, man. Don’t say we didn’t try this the easy way.”
With that cryptic warning, he stalked away, hands stuffed in his pockets. That left me standing there with silent Flo, who looked to be on the verge of tears.
“Sorry,” I grunted, feeling anything but. “Jace and Rhett write all the music anyway. They don’t need me there for collaboration.”
“Gray…” she replied with a pleading look on her face. She wanted me to play middleman. Peacemaker. How could I when I hadn’t forgiven her myself?
My phone rang from my living room, and I gripped the front door. “Sorry, Flo. Good luck with them.” Then I closed the door in her face and went to look for my phone where I’d left it before my workout.
I found it on my coffee table, beside my folder on Billie Bellerose research. The caller ID showed as Unknown Number, and a chill chased down my spine. I stared at the screen, and the call ended without me answering.
“Shit,” I breathed, dread flooding my gut. I’d been expecting it for weeks, but it was still a shock.
Tossing my phone back down, I took my ass off to shower and wallow in denial for a little longer. There was no way I’d get away with using my old resources and connections without them asking something in return. Stupid me, I’d thought I could just pay cash like any other buyer.
I took my time in the shower, watching my blood mix with the water as it swirled down the drain, then patched up my split knuckles without even bothering to get dressed afterward. It was one of the main reasons I lived alone when we weren’t on tour. I liked to be naked.
“Christ, and here I was starting to think maybe I missed working for you degenerates,” a woman said when I walked through to my kitchen, making me nearly jump out of my skin. “Then I get an eyeful of that and remember what a fucking headache you all are.”