“I don’t like being manipulated.”
“No one does. But it’s the nature of this business. We all have a part to play and right now, kiddo, yours is being the monkey in the middle.”
“Awesome,” I deadpan. “Maybe I should just retire.”
Steven shakes his head. “You’ll never do that. You like it too much.”
I sigh, leaning back into the cushion of the couch.
He’s right, of course. I do like it too much to retire. It’s why I sang back up and did voice coaching and other bullshit, even if I wasn’t writing or creating my own music. So, I guess I need to suck it up and deal. I can ignore Florian despite what he says. At least I can put him off. He’s lived this long without me, so it really shouldn’t be the hardship he’s making it out to be.
Gus is another matter.
I can’t keep my distance from him. Even if I could, I’m not sure I want to.
But right now, he hates me. Or at least he’s super pissed off, not that I blame him in the least. I need to fix this. Now.
“I need to talk to Gus, Steven. Can we take five?”
Steven laughs and shakes his head. “No way in hell. Listen to this.” He flips a switch on the soundboard and then the angry strings of Gus’ acoustic guitar fill the room.
“Wow,” I breathe out because I’ve never heard him play like that. It’s good. No, it’s balls to the wall amazing.
“Yeah, wow. So no, you can’t take five and no, you can’t talk to him. In fact, I’d let him continue to fester. I’d love to see what else I can get out of him.”
I roll my eyes at that, but at the same, I can’t blame Steven for saying that. When he blends this into whatever track he’s going to put it on, it’s going to be phenomenal. It’s not our song. I already know this, and Steven never said a word to me—or Gus for that matter—to bring him back to it.
This is something new, and it’s brilliant.
Gus continues like this for another half an hour. He plays like he’s possessed by the devil and when he comes out of that sound booth, his sandy-colored hair is damp with perspiration and his t-shirt clings to his incredible chest and abs like a second skin.
Damn, that’s one hell of a sight.
I stand up, but he doesn’t even acknowledge me. He just sets his guitar down in the corner and makes for the door, no doubt headed to the bathroom to get himself cleaned up. I know Steven said I should let him fester, but I’m not going to do that.
“Don’t,” Steven warns. “Let him be. Besides, you’re up.”
“I just have to pee,” I lie. I went to the bathroom like ten minutes ago, but Steven just shakes his head and lets it go.
I fly out of the room practically at a sprint and don’t hesitate before I open the door to the men’s room. This bathroom has two stalls and two urinals, so I’m fortunate that no one else is in here other than Gus.
Gus who is now shirtless as he wipes the sweat from his body with a damp towel.
Holy sweet baby Jesus in the manger. I may have just drooled a puddle onto the floor. I know for a fact that my mouth is agape. Whether or not my tongue is lolling out, I have no idea.
Gus is cut.
Tall, broad, muscular shoulders, thick arm muscles with unbelievable biceps and triceps—the latter my total weakness—amazingly defined pecks that trail down into a row of bricks in the form of abs. One, two, three…yep, he’s got eight. Damn, he has an eight-pack, all the way down to a V that sinks into his jeans with a small trail of light hair to guide me as if I need directions.
My eyes are practically glued to him, and any attempt at removing them from Gus’ body is futile. It’s like they’re laughing at me, saying, please girl, who are you kidding, you can’t look away and why would you want to.
He glances over at me, catches me blatantly staring, and a reluctant smirk latches onto the corner of his lips as he notes the extreme extent of my ogling. “Did I pass? There’s a billboard downtown if you need a larger visual.”
Now he’s just mocking me. I finally drag my gaze up to his and frown when I note the playful yet guarded expression on his face. This isn’t the Gus I’m used to. This is a different man.
“No? You want more? I’m more than happy to oblige with whatever you need.” The harsh suggestion in his voice cuts me to the quick.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what? You’re the one staring at me like you’re desperate for me to take my pants off next. To see if I’m just as impressive below the belt as I am above. Get on your knees and I’ll show you that I am.”
I clear my throat, ignoring the biting tone of his voice and fucked up words. “I need to talk to you.”
“That’s not what I was hoping you were about to offer me.” I scowl and he blows out a silent breath. “We really don’t have to do this,” he retorts briskly, and I find myself crossing the small washroom over to him as he stands in front of the sink.
Sweaty. Half-naked. Angry as the devil. And goddamn divine.
“You need to let me explain everything, so you’ll understand and stop being a disrespectful jerk, talking to me like I’m nothing more than a backroom fuck.”
Gus steps away from the sink, turning to face me and with that, his masculine musky scent hits my nose. I reflexively take a deep breath in to capture more of it.
I want this man, I realize.
So much so that I’m willing to put up with his shitty attitude.
So much so that I’m not going down without a fight.
“I think I understand everything pretty well, actually. Florian filled me in.”
I sigh. Gus is stubborn. A lot of strong, alpha men are. It’s in their DNA or something. But right now, I’m not in the mood to do battle with that. I need him to listen to me and I need him to listen to me now. So, I stride into him, nice and tall in my heels as I gaze up into his stormy eyes that never fail to charge past all my defenses.
Yeah, I like Gus.
How or when it happened is anyone’s guess. But it’s real, and I don’t want to let it go.
He’s the first good thing to enter my life in so very long. He makes me feel seen and heard and I want so much more of him I can hardly think past it.
“You don’t, actually. It’s not what you think,” I explain. “I was ambushed. I went out to meet Casper and Florian was there. I had no idea.”
“Casper tricked you? Is that why you were yelling at him this morning?”
I nod, a small smile cracking my lips. “Yes, he did. And yes, it was.”
Gus nods, not surprised, but then takes a step back, leaning against the counter as a bead of water trails slowly down his throat. I watch it for a beat like a dog trailing a treat, and then force myself to find his eyes again. That smirk is still there, and I feel sort of foolish for being this easy with him. Especially after what he just said to me about getting on my knees.
Especially when I know the score. He kissed me and then didn’t call.
And here I am, chasing after him.
Shame suddenly swarms me, and I step back, hugging my arms around my chest as if to protect myself from what I can feel is coming.
“You’re back with him now?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not,” I tell him flatly. “It’s not how it looked in the pictures.” I shrug up a shoulder. “Come on, Gus. Give me some credit. I’m not back together with Florian and we weren’t having a romantic dinner. I spent the evening mapping out all the ways he hurt me in graphic detail for him. I’m so sorry about you having to see that before I spoke to you. And about being hounded by paparazzi this morning. I know this is not what you signed up for when you asked me to do the duet with you.” I heave in a breath and realize this might not be entirely about me and Florian. “If you want me to pull out, I totally understand.”