The Last Love Song (A BWWM BDSM Romance) (9 page)

And I was nervous about my bodyguard's arrival.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when the doorman buzzed up to let me know that both Vaughn and my driver were waiting out front.

He was waiting outside, leaning casually against the car door. He was in his usual uniform of a suit, sunglasses, and an earpiece where he could easily call for backup or for the police or for anything else at all, really.

"Nice to see you, again," he said, his eyes roaming up and down my body.

"You, too," I said.

"Strange to see you without your flock of followers." He opened the back door to let me in.

"I know. This is kind of an unofficial, casual sort of party. No press allowed. So I don't really need to bother them with it."

"Just me?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Just you." Then I climbed into the car.

He rode in the passenger seat in the front, as usual. "Anything or anyone in particular I should be keeping an eye out for tonight?" he asked, looking at me through the rearview mirror.

"Anybody coming at me with flowers," I said, grimacing at the memory. He nodded. "I don't expect to get mobbed or anything. That's why we didn't think I'd need more than one of you."

"Gotcha," he said.

And that was it. I guessed it was because the driver was with us that he wasn't showing any interest in continuing a conversation. Also, to be fair, he was on duty.

Damn, I really hadn't thought this through at all.

The red carpet was out and cameras were flashing when we arrived. The party itself may have been closed to the press, but the sidewalks were still open to the public and they took full advantage.

"Ready?" Vaughn asked. The limo had pulled to a stop in front of the entrance, and more were lining up behind us. It was time to go.

"Ready."

"Text when you're ready for a pickup," the limo driver said, "Parking's bad so I'll be about ten minutes away from here, so you know."

"Thanks," I said after a moment. These were things that Lexi normally took care of. I hadn't been out on my own in far, far too long.

Vaughn let me out of the car and escorted me between the barricades, down the red carpet while members of the paparazzi called my name and flashed photo after photo. I wore my most fierce smile and struck a couple quick poses on my way to the front door.

The man there made a quick check mark on his list and let Vaughn and I pass.

The music was already pumping as we walked in. Trakka, the rap star who was throwing this party in celebration of his album's early success, had bought out the entire club for the night. I personally had started feeling a little too old for clubs but the energy was already high, the drinks were flowing, and I had friends out in that crowd on the dancefloor. Why not have a little fun?

"Hey," Vaughn said, shouting at my ear so he could be heard over the music, "I'm gonna lurk around the perimeter with the rest of the security goons. I'll keep an eye out for you, but this place is pretty well locked down. You've got nothing to worry about."

"All right," I said, and I watched regretfully as he walked away.
Well, what did you expect?

I had just snagged a glass of champagne when Trakka's voice piped in through the speakers over the music. "Ladies and gentleman, give it up, my girl Zenaida's in the house!" Cheers rose from the dancefloor, and the people closest to me hooted and slapped my back. "Get on up here and take over the booth for a minute!"

Laughing, I picked my way past the bar and climbed the steps up to the DJ booth where Trakka was waiting. The huge man pulled me into a big bear hug. "Congratulations!" I shouted. I was so happy for his success - sincerely. He'd only been an opener for me only three years ago, and now he was a household name.

"Guest DJ for me!" he said, shoving the mic into my hands and hustling me behind the turntables and the computers. I scanned down the list of tracks the actual DJ had lined up and scowled.

"Trakka," I said, "Did you not just release a hip hop album?"

"You know I did!"

"Then what is all this techno shit?" I shrieked, gesturing at the list.

"Fix it!" he cackled. He squeezed me in a tight hug one more time. "I've gotta mingle. Have fun!" Then he melted away into the crowd.

The DJ regarded me calmly as he bobbed along with the music. I looked out over the dancefloor. It was a great view from the booth, though it was too dark down there to make out too many faces. But I could see people clearly at the bar - some familiar, some not. All important names and faces, famous performers and the people that worked behind the scenes. It was good that Trakka had called me out. Now everyone would know that I was there without me needing to mingle.

"Give it up one more time for Trakka," I said into the mic, "He's worked really hard to get here. So somebody get that boy a drink!"

Cheers rose again. They'd get him more than drinks. They'd bring him drugs, and girls, and whatever else he could dream up. That was one part of this life that I'd successfully managed to avoid - outside of the occasional sleeping pill, I stayed away from drugs.

I suspected that was a big part of why my career was lasting so long so far. I'd seen so many colleagues burn out fast. It was truly depressing.

After lining up a couple oldschool nineties tracks, I called out another up-and-coming singer to take my spot in the booth.

Back on the floor, I swept straight for the bar before shimmying my way onto the dancefloor. I did more hugging and shrieking than actual dancing - I lost track of how many reunions I had while I was out there. It really had been a long time since I'd worked up the nerve to go to an industry gathering like this, and it was nice to know that people actually missed partying with me - even when there were no cameras around.

And yet, I was distracted. Surrounded by friends I hadn't seen in some time, happy and buzzed and a little bit sweaty, there was only one person I was thinking about talking to.

Vaughn.

The party spun around me but I ignored it for the moment. I found Vaughn chatting with a couple other security guards lurking off to the side of the bar. I caught his eye and signaled him over.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, teetering a little in my heels. He steadied me with a hand on my elbow. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you okay?”

He squinted down at me. “You’re a little drunk. Do you want me to call the car?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I just wanted to see if you wanted a drink or anything.”

He laughed. The bastard laughed at me! “Go rejoin the party,” he said, releasing my arm. “We can talk later if you want, but right now I’m sure you’ve got more schmoozing to do, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, ducking my head. Shit, I was such an idiot! What exactly had I hoped would happen by coming to see him? Why the hell had I hired him at all? I walked away feeling foolish and disappointed, and I didn’t know what else. I could still feel his fingers where they’d pressed into my skin.
Fucking Vaughn
. Ruining my buzz. Distracting me from my work. Making me so hot only the week before and leaving me so cold now.

Obviously more booze was the only logical solution to the confusion inside my head.

I snagged myself a double of whiskey at the bar and picked my way through the crowd, aiming for the DJ booth. Trakka hadn't returned to the post, but I didn't expect to see much more of him that night. He'd be partying too hard for the likes of little old me.

I found another guest up there, though, adding tracks to the playlist and shouting into the microphone. His face was familiar but I'd never interacted with him before.

"Hey there," I said, trying to sound flirty. "Care to give a lady a turn on the mic?" If that didn't work I'd just have to scare him out of the booth.

"Zenaida!" the man exclaimed. He grinned. "Name's Jet," he said, holding out his hand. I shook it tentatively. He definitely wasn't familiar, but he seemed to know me. To be fair, everyone in the business knew me, but he was almost acting like he'd expected me.

"Nice to meet you, Jet," I said, my voice significantly colder. He didn't seem to notice. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"We haven't met. I'm one of Camden's new artists."

My blood ran cold. I kept my composure, though - I couldn't run at every mention of the man. Especially now that he was becoming a big-time producer.
Just because they work with him doesn't mean they're like him. This guy Jet is probably just fine, just another kid trying to make it in the business
.

"Congrats," I said, wearing a smile I didn't feel. "Are you working on anything now?"

"Getting ready to drop my first album," he said, flashing his teeth with his grin. He wore gold caps on half of them. I wanted to ask if those things were even on trend anymore but I refrained. Just because I liked to stay on the cutting edge didn't mean everybody else had to.

"Well, congrats on that, too," I said. "It's always nice to meet young up-and-comers."

He nodded. Surprising - usually these young upstarts were more enthused to meet me, and full of questions about the biz. But this Jet just turned back to the DJ's computer.

"Camden says hello," he said, looking at me through the corner of his eye.

Dread formed a tight ball in my stomach. Camden knew I was here? Had he gotten his hands on the guest list? Or maybe he knew my whole damn schedule? Panic set my heart racing.

Then, the song started. The one that I never performed, the one that I'd banned from my presence.

The last love song I'd ever written and ever planned on writing.

Take my heart, take it with you,

It only beats when it’s near you,

It only heats when it hears you,

It only breaths when I touch you,

Take it with you when you go.

"You bastard," I hissed, my lip curling into a vicious sneer. This, the flowers and the note... why was he reaching out to me again? He hadn't bothered me in years. What the hell was happening?

"He just wants to be friends, Z," Jet said, using the pet name Camden used to have for me. "He just wants to work with you again. Collaborate. You know. This business is too small to keep avoiding him."

“Fuck you,” I hissed. “And fuck him.”

I raced out of the booth and down the steps. Friends gave me strange looks when they saw me - they knew this song was off-limits. I pushed my way through onto the dancefloor, hoping to make a straight line for the exit. But my head was spinning. Writhing, sweaty bodies rubbed up against mine, swept away by the frenzy of the dance. The strobe lights made it hard to see, the thumping bass hard to hear. I felt trapped, crushed, lost.

Trakka found me and whirled me around. "Girl!" he shouted over the music. "I thought you banned this song!"

"I did! One of Camden's boys did this!"

Trakka shook his head. His pupils were dilated but he seemed otherwise in control of himself, so I let him lead me through the crowd. It was easier to hear ourselves speak along the dark perimeter of the room.

"Don't let that bastard drive you out," he said. "Stay. Drink. Party!" He pointed at the glass that was still in my hand. I took a long swallow.

"I don't know, Trakka. I might be about finished anyway. I'm an old lady!"