Chapter 2
Joz
Life’s full of surprises.
Good times.
My attention was on the stage, waiting for my reason for being here to appear, but I kept flicking my gaze to the door in anticipation of the fiery Aspen Kingcaid to walk through. I needed a distraction, and she could be it.
A laugh rumbled through my chest. I’d earned my egotistical reputation.
Considering I’d spent fifteen years at the top of my game, with women throwing their underwear on stage and making it clear they were up for, well, pretty much anything, it was sometimes difficult to keep my ego in check.
Although, after our conversation, I imagined Aspen Kingcaid would rather get into bed with a rattlesnake than fuck me.
Not a problem. Challenges fueled my competitive streak. As did casual relationships. The bigger the number, the more of a winner I felt. Far better than the alternative—a full blown relationship.
A shudder ran through me. I’d only ever been semi-serious about one girl, and that had ended in a head fuck I still couldn’t bring myself to think about.
Burying my feelings about the whole shit show had worked for me so far.
In fact, it had caused me to clean up my act, and not before fucking time.
The band I was here to see trudged onto the stage.
A smattering of the audience applauded as the lead singer adjusted his guitar strap.
I sat up straight in anticipation. I wasn’t in the habit of ducking out of appointments, but when a pal of mine messaged to tell me this band was playing here today, I’d momentarily forgotten about my meeting with the CEO of Kingcaid Music, and hotfooted it over here.
I’d been dying to hear the lead singer live.
He cleared his throat, then signaled to his bandmates.
When he opened his mouth, I lost myself in the cadence of his voice, the way his baritone resonated, and how he commanded the stage.
His band mates were fucking awful, but this lad had something special.
I’d stumbled across him by accident online, and ever since, I’d hoped the stars would align to let me see him in the flesh and figure out if he was as talented as I’d hoped.
I got my answer. He was talented all right, but also dirt poor, had no connections in the business, and was lacking the kind of confidence I’d had at his age. I’d bombarded the music producer of one of the top labels for a solid six months until he relented and agreed to an audition.
From that day forward, I never looked back.
But fifteen years in this business had left me jaded.
I still loved performing on stage, but the rest of the bullshit that came with this career had begun to wear thin.
It was time I started looking to the future.
A future that one day wouldn’t include performing.
I wasn’t there yet, which was the reason I’d kept my cards close to my chest and told no one about my plans.
I reckoned I had maybe five good years in me before I hung up my guitar–in a professional sense, at least.
And that future, I’d decided, would focus on talent spotting.
And Presley Knox was my first, unofficial protégé.
Movement to my left caught my eye, and I tore my focus away from the stage.
My gaze collided with a hazel-eyed, plum-haired, seriously pissed off looking woman shaking out a polka-dot umbrella, her damp dress clinging to her body.
It took considerable effort to look away, especially with her erect nipples poking through the thin material, but somehow I managed it.
I gestured to the bartender who ambled over. “Brandy,” I yelled over the music. “Make it a large one.”
He nodded and moved away. I raised a hand to Aspen. Her eyes narrowed as she sauntered in my direction, her magnificent hips swaying. Damn. Woman had sex appeal and then some. I pointed to the barstool on my left.
“Saved you a seat.”
She glowered. “Can’t we go somewhere quieter?”
“No.” I picked up the brandy the bartender had brought over and handed it to her. “Here. You look like you could use it.”
“I don’t drink in the daytime.” Knocking it back in one go, she slammed the glass on the bar and let out a satisfied sigh. “But I’ve a feeling I’ll need the fortification.”
I grinned, pointing at her empty glass. The bartender refilled it. She picked it up, but this time, she cradled it in both hands rather than drinking it. Her gaze drifted to the stage, her interest piquing.
“Who’s that?” She jerked her chin.
“The reason I was a no-show.”
“Hmm.” Her lips pursed. “The band is terrible.”
“Agreed.”
“But the lead singer… that voice.”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes locked on Presley. “He’s got stage presence, too, although he’s lacking a little confidence.”
“Agreed.”
Chest rising, she huffed. “You could have called.”
“I did call.”
“An hour late.”
I shrugged. “What can I say? I’m easily distracted.” My eyes dropped to her chest.
She followed my gaze, folding her arms over those pert nipples. “Oh, I get it now.” She gave me another supposedly fierce glower, but all it did was draw yet another grin from me and make my dick get all excited. “You’re a teenage boy trapped in a man’s body.”
“Isn’t that true for most guys?”
Those plump lips of hers thinned. “I don’t have time for games, Mr. Raynor.”
“Who says I’m playing games?”
Her nostrils flared as she breathed in deeply. “Let me ask you one question: do you have any intention of signing with my label?”
“How do you expect me to answer that when we haven’t had a conversation on terms? When I haven’t seen a contract?”
From the incensed look on her face, she was about five seconds away from kicking me in the nuts. Damn, I’d enjoy being in the blast zone when she exploded.
“If you’d shown up to the meeting at my offices, you’d have the answer to both of those questions.”
“Yeah, but this is far more enjoyable, don’t you think? After all, you’re a music exec trying to sign a musician. What better place to negotiate than while listening to a band?”
“I can barely hear myself think.”
“Then, don’t. Feel.” I took the brandy from her and shifted in my seat so I was facing her. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“It’s a simple enough request.”
“So you can leer at my nipples?”
God, she was fucking magnificent. “Spitfire, I don’t need you to close your eyes to do that. Now, shut up and do what I say.”
“I don’t take kindly to being ordered around.”
A smile crept over my lips. “I’d bet my left fucking testicle that isn’t true in the bedroom.”
She was half off the stool when I grabbed her arm. The withering look she gave me as her eyes shifted from mine to the way my fingers wrapped around her forearm got me rock fucking hard. Grinning, I released her and brought my hands up on either side of my head.
“Okay, I’ll stop with the innuendos.” For now. “Just sit, please, and close your eyes. I promise I won’t drop my gaze below chin level.”
Squaring her shoulders, she primly perched on the edge of the stool, but she did as I asked. “What now?”
“Listen.”
I readied myself for another round of arguments, but she settled into her seat, and her shoulders relaxed.
Ever since I’d discovered this kid, he had captivated me, but instead of looking at him, I found myself fixated on her.
The sharp cut of her cheekbones contrasting with the softer chin and feminine jawline.
The way her mouth moved as she caught on to the words in the chorus.
The intelligent hazel eyes hidden behind closed lids.
The dyed plum hair gently blowing from the air conditioner overhead.
It wasn’t as though I didn’t know what she looked like.
Kingcaid Music might not rival the big players in this industry, but it had a solid reputation among musicians.
So, of course I’d come across her in industry magazines, although we’d never met in person until today.
Being in her presence was a totally different experience.
My skin almost singed from her biting tongue, and I could not get enough of her scent. Vanilla and rose.
She was fucking enchanting.
The song finished, and Presley launched straight into another—a haunting melody that showed off his incredible range, even though the bass guitarist couldn’t play for shit.
Aspen’s eyes were still closed, as though she’d transported to another dimension, lost to me in this moment, and I was fucking jealous of wherever she’d gone .
Get a grip, Raynor.
Halfway through the song, her eyes flickered open, and she stared at the stage for a beat before turning to me. “He’s extraordinary.”
I nodded. “A once in a decade discovery. He has the talent to go all the way—with the right label who won’t wear him out before he’s twenty-five, who will give him the guidance and protection he needs from the vultures prevalent in this industry.
Kingcaid Music would provide that.” Along with my guidance, but I’d keep that to myself for now.
Her eyes narrowed, then returned to the stage. “Did you just pay me a compliment?”
I huffed a laugh. “You have the wrong impression of me.”
“Hmm.” She wasn’t convinced. “How did you discover him?”
“Complete accident. I was scrolling online a couple of months ago and came across a video. I’ve been hoping to catch him live ever since, but my schedule didn’t allow for it… until today.”
One perfectly plucked eyebrow curved. “Your schedule didn’t allow for it today, either.”
“If I bend over and take my spanking like a good boy, can we draw a line beneath my transgression?” I paired a cocky smile with a wink.
Aspen glared, unimpressed. “Are you at all interested in signing with my label, or are you simply having fun wasting my fucking time?”
“Oh, I’m interested.” In more than a record contract, too. “But my signature comes with a stipulation or two.”
“Which are?”
Presley’s short set finished, and he murmured his thanks to the scant audience and trudged off stage, followed by his band—if they could be called such. I jumped down off my stool and held out a hand to Aspen. “Let’s go and meet the kid.”
Ignoring my hand, she stood, her head tilted to one side.
“Why would I want to do that?” She did want to, I could tell, but she was playing games because I asked rather than her leading the way. Definitely a woman who liked control. I’d enjoy testing her limits—or maybe I’d happily let her do anything she wanted to me.
“Because I asked nicely.”
This adorable snort broke free, and a wide grin split my face in two.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re an extremely irritating man?”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re gorgeous?”
She rolled her eyes. “Trust a man to break a woman down to nothing more than her looks.”
Ouch.
“Oh, I’ve no doubt you’re far more than your looks, Ms. Kingcaid. And I relish the chance to unearth every one of your talents.”
Her cheek bulged where she ran her tongue along the inside of her mouth, and she studied me in silence. A warmth started in my lower abdomen, spreading to my groin in mere seconds.
“Shall we go?” I gestured in front of me.
She paused, then set off walking to the side of the stage where the band had exited. I dropped my gaze, drinking in the subtle sway of her hips, and the globes of her arse, well-earned in the gym, no doubt.
“Stop looking at my ass.”
I chuckled. “Got eyes in the back of your head?”
She spared me a glance over her shoulder. “No, but you’re predictable, so I took a guess that paid off.”
Double ouch.
The band was packing up when we arrived backstage, and the second the guys spotted me, their jaws dropped and they got this look, like they were in the presence of greatness.
It was a reaction I’d grown used to after being in this business for so long, but even so, it was something I’d never felt as though I deserved.
I was just a guy with a talent for singing and playing guitar—one I worked hard at and made myself ready to catch the wave when it came.
Even execs fawned and stroked my ego, although their motivation had always been for the money I made them rather than any interest in me, the man rather than the legend.
Maybe that was why Aspen intrigued me. Yes, she wanted to sign me to her label—she’d made no secret of that fact—but not at any price. Not if she had to bow and grovel. I respected the hell out of her for that.
“Oh, my God.” Presley’s eyes widened and his lips parted. “You’re Joz Raynor.”
I extended my hand. “Good to meet you. That’s a hell of a voice you have, kid.”
“Um, thanks. That… that means a lot coming from you.” His eyes flicked to Aspen, but before I could introduce them, she got in first.
“I’m Aspen Kingcaid, CEO of Kingcaid Music.
” She produced a business card and handed it to him.
“You have a unique voice, Presley, but there are many great voices out there who aren’t suitable for a record contract.
That said, I’d like the chance to talk to you.
Call the number on there and make an appointment. ”
His fingers trembled as he took it from her and stared at it as though he expected it to burst into flames, along with his dreams. “Thanks, I will.” Glancing at his band, he grimaced. “Um, my band…”
“The invitation is for you, not the band.” Aspen flung an apologetic half smile in their direction. “No offence.”
“S’all good,” the bass player said. “We know he’s the talent and we’re the supporting act.”
She gave a crisp nod. “I’ll speak to you soon, Presley.” Turning her attention to me, she motioned for me to follow her, then disappeared through the door.
God, I loved a bossy woman.
“What do I say to her?” Presley asked no one in particular.
I clapped my hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed. “Just be yourself. She might come across as a ball-buster, but she’s a person like you and like me. You’ll do great. Show some confidence, some swagger. Fake it till you make it, kid.”
“Right?” He turned the card over in his hand.
“Call the number,” I said. “Don’t fucking bottle it. This is your chance. Grab it with both hands.”
His shoulders squared, and this determined look crossed his face. “I will.”
As I left the room, a cheer broke out behind me.
I grinned. It was a fun time, right at the beginning when the possibilities seemed endless. Shame it never lasted, but that was life.
I caught up to Aspen in the foyer. The rain had stopped, but the air was humid, heavy, and typical of London in July. Outside, the streets were, once again, bustling with tourists and locals alike, emerging from where they’d taken shelter from the downpour.
“My office?” She framed it as a question, but it was an order rather than a request. My cock hardened once more.
“No need. Here are my demands. A three-year, two-album deal. I get complete creative control over the music—and you sign Presley Knox.”