Chapter 24 #2
I glanced out the window as the car pulled up in front of a colossal house with pillars on either side of a glossy black front door.
The door opened, and Aspen’s double, albeit three decades older, appeared, beaming.
She almost danced on the balls of her feet, and the second Aspen was out of the car, her mum threw her arms around her daughter.
A twinge of jealousy pinched my insides.
My mum was typically British, reserved and frugal with expressions of love.
Oh, I knew she loved me, but I couldn’t remember a single occasion where she told me she did.
At thirty-five, it was fucking lame to still want her to say it, despite knowing she never would.
I got out of the car but hung back to give Aspen and her mum some space. A dark-haired guy with flecks of gray at his temples emerged, and Aspen’s mum released her into her father’s arms. He was just as expressive, and the twinge of jealousy inside me grew into an ugly mess.
“Joz.” Aspen’s mum approached me, both arms out to the side, palms facing up. “Welcome to our home. Do you do hugs?”
“Hello, Mrs. Kingcaid. Um, yeah, I guess.”
“Sienna, please.” Her arms came around my waist. Probably because she was barely five feet tall, and at six foot three, I towered above her. “We’ve been dying to meet you. Aspen’s barely told us anything.”
“He’s British, Mom. Private. So, no interrogations, please.”
“As if we would.” She linked her arm through mine.
“We’re thrilled you could be here to celebrate my birthday.
Come along. I’ve put both of you in Aspen’s old bedroom.
I presume that’s okay?” She winked, and color flooded my cheeks.
I wasn’t a man who suffered from embarrassment, but the hidden message from the mother of the woman I was fucking caused the first blush I’d suffered in more than a decade. Probably.
“That’s great, Mom.” Aspen saved me from answering.
“I’ll take him up before he gets any more flustered.
” She unpeeled her mother’s hand from my arm and led me inside, jogging up an impressive staircase to the left of the even more impressive hallway.
Although I could afford a place like this, I was far more comfortable in my loft apartment.
I never had shaken off those working-class roots.
I liked to believe they kept me grounded and helped me make music that appealed to the masses.
Aspen opened the door to a vast bedroom decked out in cool blues and soft grays. Above the king-sized bed was a triple clef in gold—one of those wall art decorations.
“This is some place.” I crossed the room and gazed through the picture window to a large lake with a fountain in the middle. “I can’t imagine growing up here.”
“I didn’t. Mom and Dad bought this place when I was, oh, thirteen or fourteen, I think. Although now that we’ve all left home, Mom said they’re thinking about downsizing.”
“But you grew up rich?”
“Yes. My parents didn’t, though. My dad and his brothers are all self-made.
They worked hard, making many sacrifices, and they ensured we knew how privileged we were.
How privileged we are.” She joined me by the window, sliding her arms around my waist and resting her cheek on my shoulder blade. “I’m glad you’re here, Joz.”
I twisted in her arms and slid my hands around her back. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”
“Liar.” She grinned.
“Okay, I’m glad that I’m here because you’re here.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I have something to tell you, and you’re not going to be happy about it.”
Her forehead puckered. “Oh, yeah.”
“I had a run in with Presley at the studio.”
She let me go. Took a step back. “When?”
“Yesterday. I didn’t go looking for him. I bumped into him as I was leaving to pack to come here.”
“And what did you say?”
“I can’t remember exactly. Something about keeping his hands to himself. I probably landed a threat or two, but I think he got the message.”
She plucked at her bottom lip, then began to pace. “I specifically asked you not to engage him.”
“I know, and I heard you.”
“Yet you ignored my wishes.”
“Look, I don’t want to fight. Like I said, I didn’t go looking for him, but when I saw him, and he asked if I was with you, I lost my temper. It won’t happen again.”
She shook her head and muttered, “Men” under her breath.
“I know. We’re fucking idiots who haven’t evolved from the dark ages.” I went to her, standing in the way of her pacing. “I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“I handled it.”
“I know you did.”
“Did you physically assault him?”
“Does a hand around the throat count as assault?”
She let out a heavy sigh. “Yes, it counts. Jesus, Joz. Do I have to get the lawyers involved?”
“No. He won’t do anything. He got the message, and that’ll be the end of it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“If I’m wrong, then I’ll deal with the consequences.”
“But don’t you see? They’re not just your consequences. If it gets out that my two recent signings are fighting, that will reflect not only on the label, but on my ability to manage my artists. Promise me you won’t do anything like that again.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise me.”
I gripped her upper arms and stared straight into her eyes. “I promise. I’ve said my piece. It’s done.”
“It’d better be.”
I clipped her under the chin. “Do you know how turned on I am right now?”
She grabbed me between the legs, and she wasn’t gentle about it either.
I winced. “You’re fucking magnificent. You know that?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I do. Now, strip. You owe me a few orgasms for badly fucking up.”
“What the lady wants”—I grabbed my shirt behind my neck and tugged it over my head, then unfastened my jeans—“the lady gets.”
She walked over to a dresser, opened the top drawer, and threw two objects on the bed.
I peered at them, then fired her a grin. “You came prepared.”
She picked up the first vibrator and handed it to me. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”
“Oh, baby.” I turned it on, and it started buzzing. “I hope these walls are soundproofed.”