Chapter 6
Joz
There she is. All Aspen. All business.
All fucking gorgeous.
For an aging rocker like myself, who’d seen it all and done it all, the ball of excitement in the pit of my stomach at seeing Aspen today felt bloody ridiculous.
When I’d had my manager ask that she fly back from New York and attend the signing of my contract with her music label in person, I’d expected a rebuttal, considering she’d only recently returned to New York.
When he’d texted to tell me she’d agreed, no one had been more surprised than me.
I felt like a bit of a dick, truth be told, but Arthur was still struggling, and I wanted to be here for him for at least the next couple of days, so here we were, outside her London headquarters, with the unsigned contract burning a hole in Mike’s briefcase.
Mike, my manager, handler, and professional cleaner of messes.
As we entered the plush reception, a woman in a fitted blue dress rose to her feet, her broad smile crinkling the skin around her eyes.
“Mr. Raynor. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you. I have your visitors’ passes right here.
” She picked up the plastic cards attached to lanyards broadcasting the company logo, then promptly dropped them on the floor.
“Oh, my goodness. Clumsy me.” She crouched to pick them up but as she moved to standing, she cracked her head on the underside of the desk. “Ow.”
“Are you all right?”
“Gosh, yes.” She rubbed her head, her face redder than a tomato at the height of its ripeness. “I’m just such a huge fan. A huge fan.”
My auto response was on the tip of my tongue when a voice called out. A voice I’d committed to memory and that had my dick twitching and goosebumps lifting the hairs on the back of my neck.
“I’ll take it from here, Carmel.”
I turned slowly, savoring the view: tight pencil skirt in dusky violet that complemented her plum-colored hair, a rich navy silk shirt without a hint of cleavage on display, and matching navy, high-heeled shoes that showed off her shapely calves. All business. All Aspen. All fucking gorgeous.
“Hi, Aspen.”
She nodded crisply, plucked the lanyards from Carmel’s shaking hands, and handed one to me and one to Mike. “Mr. Raynor, Mr. Jones. Follow me, please.”
Mike gave me a look, which I ignored, too busy checking out the curve of Aspen’s arse, packed so adorably into that skirt, her hips sashaying from side to side as she stepped into the lift. Mike cleared his throat, his personal code for ‘stop fucking leering’. I would have if I could, believe me.
I dragged my eyes to head height just in time for Aspen to turn, but the slight narrowing of her eyes told me I was busted. I flashed her a trademark grin and got a roll of her eyes in response.
Magnificent. Everything about the woman intrigued me.
For the first time since Caroline, I wanted more than a quick fuck, and an even quicker exit the second I’d shot my load.
On the surface Aspen was nothing like my ex.
She was self-assured, confident, and didn’t need a man to define her—the complete opposite of Caroline.
The problem was I’d thought those very things about Caroline when we first started going out, too, and that had ended in disaster.
Familiar feelings crammed into my chest: regret, remorse, guilt. So much fucking guilt. Before they could grab hold, I took the same action I’d taken for eight years that had always worked for me.
I ignored them, drowned them, set fire to them. Those feelings would destroy me if I let them dig in. I’d been to Hell once. I couldn’t afford to return.
Aspen’s office décor was in complete contrast to her personality, or I should say, the snippets of her personality she’d shown to me. Decked out in whites and grays, it was almost sterile, whereas she was vibrant and fiery and colorful, in looks and in persona.
“Have a seat.” She gestured to an oval table, also in white, with six black leather chairs tucked underneath. It didn’t escape my attention that she waited until I’d picked one before choosing where to sit for herself—as far away from me as possible.
A smirk played around my lips. I caught her eyes and winked. She stared at me blankly, then turned her attention to Mike.
“Let’s get this done, shall we? We’re all busy people.”
Polite speak for ‘don’t waste my fucking time’.
She really had brought business Aspen to this meeting.
That could be for Mike’s benefit or to send a message to me that she was pissed off at having to fly across the pond for the third time in seven days.
Couldn’t say I blamed her. Although if she was suffering from jet lag, she hid it well.
There wasn’t a single dark smudge beneath her hazel eyes, nor a hand over her mouth stifling a yawn.
Mike took out the contract and set it on the table.
He began talking it through, but I tuned out.
I’d already agreed to Aspen’s terms (something he fucking raged about when I presented him with a done deal).
Mike lived for negotiation. He relished feeling as though he’d gained the upper hand in some way, forced his opponent—his words, not mine—to surrender something they held dear.
Until now, I’d given him free rein to do his thing, which was probably the reason I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel when I informed him I’d spoiled his fun.
For some reason, watching Mike attempt to eviscerate Aspen caused an almost uncontrollable anger to fire up inside me.
Not that she didn’t have the chops to take him—I’d wager she could hold her own and then some—but I wasn’t prepared to see any blood spilt, even if she emerged the victor in the end.
Turned out I had more than a soft spot for Ms. Aspen Kingcaid.
In fact, the only part of me that wasn’t soft for this woman was my fucking dick.
Mike handed me a pen. He wasn’t happy, nor was he hiding his dislike for this entire process, but too fucking bad.
If my plans panned out, this was the last contract I’d ever sign, and I couldn’t be happier that my career would end with Aspen’s company.
I’d had one too many gutfuls of the big boys.
It’d make a refreshing change to be a part of a smaller concern.
I scrawled my signature, then pushed the contract and the pen toward Aspen. She signed, and Mike witnessed both our signatures. Aspen picked up the contract and slid it into a manila folder, then rose from her seat. She shook Mike’s hand before she dipped her chin at me.
“The team here at Kingcaid are delighted to have you on board, Mr. Raynor. I will ensure a copy of the contract is mailed to you both. I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you that our agreement remains confidential until the official press release, which will be this Monday in New York.
You are required to attend. My assistant will be in touch to organize the particulars. ”
God, her formality turned me on.
“We’ll be there,” Mike said. “You’ve got yourself a killer deal, Ms. Kingcaid, with the best in this business. Congratulations.”
The bitter note to his tone didn’t go unnoticed by Aspen. She side-eyed me, one eyebrow faintly raised.
I grinned, then clapped Mike on the back. “Chill, bro. S’all good.”
“It’s good, yes, but it could have been better.”
“If I spring for lunch, will you attempt a smile?”
“No promises,” he muttered, already halfway out the door.
I let it close behind him before addressing Aspen. “Thank you for flying over. I would have come to New York, but I had a couple of things to deal with that would’ve made it difficult to get away.”
“Don’t sweat it. I’m used to operating on who-the-fuck-knows-what timeline and sleeping with the sound of engine noise rattling through my head.”
Her response pulled an easy smile from me. “Would you like to join us for lunch?”
She shook her head.
I swallowed down disappointment.
“I don’t trust your manager not to poison my food.”
I winked. “That’s a good call.”
“He’s not happy that you agreed to terms without him, then?”
My right shoulder popped. “He’ll get over it.” I grabbed the door handle, then paused and turned around again, an invisible cord pulling me back. “I’m looking forward to working closely with you. I think you and I will make beautiful music together.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How is it that you can make an innocent comment sound like an invitation into your bed?”
“Who says it wasn’t?”
The skin around her mouth tightened. “I look forward to having a professional relationship with you, too, Mr. Raynor. I think we will make a beautiful stack of money together.”
I threw back my head and gave a hearty laugh. “God, you are fucking incredible. I’ll see you soon, Aspen.”
I caught up to Mike by the lifts. “Okay, then, where am I taking you for lunch, you salty fucker?”
The lift dinged, the doors opened, and Mike strode in. “Somewhere fucking expensive that has at least two Michelin stars.”
“Taco Loco it is, then.” About as far away from a Michelin starred restaurant as you could get.
Mike cast a withering look in my direction. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”
Flinging a casual arm around his shoulders, I planted a kiss on his bald head. “Yeah, but you fucking love the money I make for you. Now, shut up and put a smile on your face before you put me off my tacos.”