The Last Love Song (A BWWM BDSM Romance) (17 page)

I looked straight into the camera as I spoke. "I'd tell him I'm waiting. Patiently. Quietly. Just waiting." That hinted at more than I wanted it to, but it was the most balanced thing I could think of to say. "Call me, you bastard," would have driven him further away and "Please, sir," wasn't something the rest of the nation needed to hear.

Now I just had to hope he happened to be watching. What were the odds?

◦◦◦

I found out as soon as the interview was over. I'd stayed on script for the rest of it, much to Harper's relief, I was sure. And Lexi settled for one dirty look over a lecture when I returned to my dressing room.

"Here," she said when her scowl was out of her system. She handed me my phone. "You've got a message."

My heart leapt into my throat.

"Yeah, yeah," Lexi said, "Everybody out, we know the drill." She didn't seem too upset, though, despite her eye rolls. If she's getting complacent then it might be time for a promotion.

As soon as the last person had left the room I settled into my chair to read the text.

"Meet me at Laughton's Brewery. 1:30." Well, he'd never been big on words. I wasn't sure what more I expected. I clutched the phone to my chest right over my racing heart. Get it together, Zenaida, I scolded myself. Just because he was willing to meet up didn't mean anything.

And I'd have to be careful not to be spotted. Not that the cat wasn't already out of the bag, but we couldn't have much of a conversation if we had a flock of cameras in our face.

"Lexi!" I called. She peeked her head inside. "What wigs do we have with us?"

Lexi insisted on sending our on-duty bodyguard along to keep an eye out for me. It wasn't necessary but I wasn't up for a fight, so I let the man come along. If nothing else, he could keep the driver company.

Laughton's Brewery was a tiny hole-in-the-wall of a bar that had its own line of beer. I'd never been there and had never tried it - I was more of a cocktail lounge girl myself - but Vaughn was calling the shots. Besides, nobody would ever expect to find me in there. We'd be relatively safe from prying eyes.

The inside was small and dark and I didn't see him right away. Someone wolf-whistled as I stood in the doorway. I quickly scampered inside.

A hand waved from somewhere near the back. I followed it and found him in a booth at the very end of the bar, alone, nursing a beer.

"Hey," I said, suddenly shy. It was strange to see him out in public not wearing his usual suit. He was dressed very casually in a well-worn t-shirt that showed off his strong arms.

"Hey," he said, his blue eyes meeting mine. Even in that dim light I could make out their color. "Do you want a drink?" I nodded. "Sit down."

I slid inside the booth as he slid out and approached the bar. It was oddly reminiscent of another night, another time, when I'd hired him out just so that I could see him. I'd had no sense of his mood then and I had no sense of it now.

"Here," he said, sliding a short glass of whiskey my way before returning to his spot, sitting next to me in the booth.

"I guess you saw the show?" I asked.

"I did." He started down into his beer.

"You didn't answer my text."

"I know. I thought it would be better if I stayed away."

"But you invited me here tonight."

He nodded. "When I saw you on the television..." He sighed. "I'm sorry about the mess, for what it's worth. I'm sure the gossip mags are having a field day with it."

"You haven't been reading them?" I took a sip of my drink, savoring the burn of the alcohol.

"No. God, no," he laughed. "I don't need to re-live any of that shit. The past belongs in the past."

"Well, I'm sorry, for what it's worth," I said, resting a hand on his forearm. Just the feel of his skin sent tingles down to my toes. "It must have been terrible."

"Karma got me back," he said, and I cringed, reminded of his scars.
Karmic retribution
, he’d called them.

"Don't say that," I said, "You didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve any of it."

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "You don't know me that well, honey."

I squeezed his arm. I didn't have much to say to that. I knew how I felt about him, and how he made me feel, but of his past? His life outside of the industry? I didn't know squat. "What if I want to change that?"

"No." He pushed my hand away. "You're calling me out because you need closure. That, I can do for you. But nothing more."

"Why?" I hated that my voice cracked again. This was supposed to be an affair, a sex thing, wasn't it? So why was I so emotional? I didn't wait for him to answer. "I'm sorry," I said, "About the job. About everything."

"Don't worry about the job. I change jobs more often than I change socks."

I leaned in closer. "I've missed having you around," I said, "And I don't just mean when we're... you know. Alone."

He chuckled, turning to face me, close enough for me to smell the beer on his breath. "You'll find another bodyguard."

"I don't want another bodyguard." I angled my face, begging for a kiss with my eyes.
If I can just get him to touch me maybe this will all be okay
. "I just want you, Vaughn. Sir."

His eyes flashed with heat, and then his lips were on mine.
Yes
, I rejoiced. I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him in tighter. His kiss was firm, his mouth demanding. It lit a fire in my belly as I melted beneath him, sinking into his embrace as he wrapped one arm around my waist.

It was exactly the sort of scorching kiss that I'd been craving since we'd been apart. It felt so good and so right to be devoured by him, my lips and my mouth taken, bruised, controlled. A ragged moan breathed out from between us - I wasn't even sure who'd made the sound - but it seemed to startle him. I was left breathless as he tore himself away.

"I shouldn't have done that," he said, shaking his head. He backed out of the booth, away from me, looking as pained as I felt. "This was just a sex thing, Zenaida," he said, his voice firm. "That's all. And it's over. Let it go."

I bit back my protests as he turned and strode through the bar, heading for the door like he was being chased. He wasn't going to listen, he was too wrapped up in his own head.

And, he was right. It was just a sex thing; it was just a brief, short-term fling. It was wild and intense and unlike anything I'd ever felt before, but it didn't mean anything. As he'd said, I barely knew a thing about him.

So why did it feel like my world was crumbling as I watched him walk away?

I was nervous about an appearance for the first time in what felt like ages. It was just a red carpet charity event, one that I would not be singing for. But I'd be interviewed - I always was.

And I had some news to deliver. News that would be talked about outside of gossip mags and blogs. It wouldn't exactly be breaking news but it would play across all the morning shows and would be widely talked about by anyone who was even remotely a fan. The news would have to reach him.

I was not the sort of woman that people said "no" to. I got my way, one way or another, and I wasn't ready to let Vaughn go yet.
This is more about his guilt than it is about how he feels about me. I know it. He just needs to see it.

Or hear it. Really hear it.

"Zenaida! Zenaida!" Cameras flashed, threatening to blind me in my distracted state. Lexi and Gavin both followed with their clipboards as I made my way down the step and repeat wall, striking poses in my cheetah-spotted minidress. Not the classiest thing I'd worn, but it was an attention-grabber.

"Zenaida!" I stepped over to one of the reporters raising a hand. I recognized him - one of the corespondents from the network Harper's show aired on.
Perfect
. I already knew that Vaughn watched Harper's show once in a while, and this would definitely get mentioned. Joked about, but mentioned.

"Good to see you," I said, though I forgot his name. He shot off his questions rapid-fire. He'd want to cover as many celebrities as he could grab. "Who are you wearing, how do you feel about the charity, how are tour preparations coming?"

"Well, I've got one surprise for the tour you might want to know about."

He paused, unprepared for more than a stock answer. "Care to tell us about it?"

"I've written a love song."

Not only did his eyes go wide, so did the crew's around him. At least I'd been kind enough to prepare my assistants. They'd surely be harassed for more information themselves later.

"Oh!" the reporter said, regaining his composure. "That's huge news! Zenaida the pop diva who never writes love songs has gone and done it! Can you tell us more?"

"It's about... possibilities," I said, smiling for the camera and batting my oversized eyelashes. "And it's about second chances. And forgiveness."

I’d written the whole thing in one mad fit of insomnia. A song hadn’t just come to me like that in a long time, and that was how I knew it was right. It was
real
.

"Well it sounds amazing and we can't wait to hear it," he said. "Can you sing us a few lines?"

"Not here!" I said, waving my hand at the crowd behind me. "But soon! It's all written and we're rehearsing it and I'm sure that everybody will love it."

"Well we can't wait, thank you, Zenaida," he said as I made a graceful exit.

There. That ought to grab Vaughn's attention
, I thought as I finally made my way inside for the dinner.
And if it doesn't, I'll find another way
.

Unfortunately, my little stunt had unintended consequences. Some I hadn't even considered, though I would have if I didn't have my head so far up my ass.

"Zenaida!" A different reporter - one I didn't recognize - called out to me from behind the rope when we were all exiting the venue at the end of the event. I gave her a nod. "Sources are claiming that your new song is about your old flame, Camden, is it true?"

I recoiled as if slapped. "Fuck, no!" I said. Lexi and Gavin hustled me past before I could tear the woman a new asshole.

“Who the fuck are these ‘sources?’” I demanded as they followed me into the back of our limo.

They sighed simultaneously as they stared down at their phones. "Twitter," Lexi said, "Fuck does news travel fast. Your Facebook page is getting flooded."

"I can't figure out who started the rumor," Gavin mumbled.