Chapter Four
Four
JJ
I was mortified.
Livid.
Beyond embarrassed.
We had agreed to keep our relationship quiet with all new clients so nobody got any ideas that I hadn’t earned my job the old-fashioned way—hard work. Handouts and hand jobs were rampant in this town, but I’d worked my ass off, double majoring in public relations and business management, and I’d agreed to start out as my dad’s assistant, quite frankly, because he was one of the best.
The fact that he blew it in this moment just because some man was ogling me stung. Protective dad or not.
But I harnessed all of my pageant skills and kept it together, facing Nico as he stared at me—in shock this time instead of blatant, lustful interest—and stood with a bland smile, offering my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Those espresso dark eyes tracked down to my fingertips. “Daughter?” he parroted, not bothering to shake my hand so I pulled it back, straightening my skirt instead.
“Yes,” my father said, using his most authoritative voice, clearly trying to put this unruly rock star in his place. “So you’d better give her the respect she’s due.”
Nico lifted one dark, pierced brow. Something in his gaze made my insides squirm in a not totally unpleasant way. “Huh.” He rose, a charming smile gracing his full lips. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Miss Johnson.” This time, he offered me his hand.
I took a breath and slid my much smaller hand into his, a bit taken aback by how warm his palm was against mine and how his callouses felt against my soft skin. He held my hand a beat longer than was polite, giving me a moment to study the differences in color and texture—his fingers large and a bit rough, skin much darker than mine, sprinkled with tattoos... mine delicate and ivory, almost like a doll’s hand next to his.
But the real surprise?
The jolt that hit me as we touched and his scent filled me. Dark as night and a bit dangerous, like a stormy sea.
I lifted my eyes to his. He felt it too. I could see it in his wolfish stare and dilated pupils. Like he wanted to devour me.
He suddenly dropped my hand and stepped back. “Are we done here?”
I felt like I’d been slapped.
I lifted a hand to my cheek to be sure, feeling the warmth there, and dropped my head to the table so nobody would see my face as I pretended to gather up some papers.
“Not quite,” said the therapist my dad had hired for him. I’d loved her the moment I met her because she reminded me of my first pageant coach—a real ballbuster.
“Come on,” Dad said to me as Priscilla started talking to Nico about their first therapy session being right then.
I bit back a grin as he began to balk and complain and give a dozen excuses about why it wasn’t a good time.
My dad was first out the door, but I spun back, unable to let Nico or this crazy hormonal response I was having get the best of me. “Mr. Santorini?”
His dark gaze snapped to me.
“Don’t go anywhere. We have some details to talk about. I’ll be back in an hour with lunch.”
I closed the door on his surprised face and turned to find my father biting back a smile. I shoved past him and walked on to his office, where I waited for him to join me. I pounced the moment we were alone.
“What the heck?” I demanded. “Why did you go all caveman Daddy Dearest in there? I thought we had an agreement.”
He sat down and crossed his legs, studying me. “Daddy Dearest?”
“You know what I mean. I thought we were only telling the Zero Energy folks I was your assistant. Why did you blow that in the first five minutes?”
“Because he was staring at your...” He made a circling motion in the general vicinity of my chest.
“So? Plenty of men have stared at my tits, Dad. Worse, in fact.”
“I do not want to hear that.”
“Well, it’s true! I can handle myself.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about. I don’t think you understand what you’re up against here. That one in there is the epitome of a hedonistic rock star. He’s bad news and I don’t, for one second, want him thinking he can disrespect you.” His expression softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to undermine or embarrass you, JJ. I trust you to do the job. It’s him I don’t trust.”
“I’ve got this,” I promised. “Don’t you worry about me.”
He nodded and stood to wrap an arm around my shoulders. “Worrying comes with the territory.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder, understanding his protectiveness ran deeper than most, even though it irritated me sometimes. It had just been me and him against the world since we lost my mom after a short, brutal battle with breast cancer when I was only nine. I had a handful of fuzzy but sweet memories of her, but honestly, what I loved the most was that he was so good at keeping her alive in my memory with his fun stories. And yes, he’d dated a few women over the years, but nothing serious, and he’d never broached the subject of remarriage, though I never understood why. He had to be lonely.
I took a breath and lifted my head, deciding to give him a pass. “Yeah, well...”
We took a few minutes to go over the general plan one more time before I ran out to grab some sandwiches for lunch and waited for Priscilla to head out of the conference room.
I gave Nico a couple of minutes to himself before I knocked and let myself in.
I found him sitting at the far end of the conference table, his feet propped up, texting on his phone.
His dark eyes drifted over me in a slow, sultry perusal as I walked in with our lunch, but I was determined to keep things professional.
“How was your session?” I asked.
“Isn’t that personal?” he said, letting his feet drop to the floor.
“Yes.” I set the food on the table and tilted my head. “You don’t have to tell me anything you spoke about. I was just making small talk.”
He nodded and reached for one of the bags.
I sat near him and opened my own lunch. “Priscilla is supposed to be very good, you know. She might be able to help you if you give her a chance.”
He took a bite of his sandwich as if he hadn’t heard me.
I shrugged and ate, following his lead of silence.
Finally, when we were done, I tossed our trash, then handed him the papers I’d brought in with me.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“My contact information as well as some details for how the next six months is going to work.”
His eyes dropped to the paper, and he began to read the document I already knew by heart because I’d helped draft it.
One-on-one therapy with Priscilla Evans for six months.
Treatment plan compliance as determined by Dr. Evans.
No alcohol other than a one-drink maximum allowed at holidays, celebrations, etc.
Absolutely no drugs.
No sexual relations with groupies or prostitutes.
No illegal or unethical activities of any sort, especially that could lead to altercations or arrest.
No interactions with the press.
Complete oversight by J. Johnson of Johnson & Moseby Publicity.
Failure to comply with any of the above rules during the six-month term will result in termination from Zero Energy and possible legal action...
He flung the paper back toward me. “This is bullshit.”
I ignored that. “You knew how this was going to go when you sat down with us, Mr. Santorini. Take it or leave it.”
“I knew you had a flaw.”
“Excuse me?”
“The beautiful ones are always dumber than a sack of rocks.”
I fought with everything in me against the automatic rush of pain that came at his words. I didn’t care what this arrogant idiot said about me, but I’d scraped and clawed against this fucking stereotype my entire life. I’d be damned if some two-bit junkie rock star took his pound of flesh from me. Not today.
I stood, my spine straighter than steel. “You’re the one flushing your life and your career down the toilet, and for what? A high? To screw a few brainless groupies?” I tilted my head, suddenly feeling sorry for him. “I think we both know I’m not the dumb one in this room.”
With that, I spun away and calmly walked out. I refused to give him the satisfaction of stomping or slamming the door. He didn’t deserve my anger. Let him lose his job. What did I care? I’d get other clients.
I slid past my father’s office and slipped into my chair at my desk. I’d just logged into my email when someone cleared their throat at my door.
I glanced up, surprised to see Nico’s dark eyes staring back at me. His gaze tracked behind my head to my college degrees hanging on the wall. “You’re not dumb, are you, college girl?”
I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back. “No.”
He looked back at me. “I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing to say. I’m just...”
“Mad?” I supplied. “Lashing out at the closest available target?”
A small, chagrined smile floated across his lips. “Yeah. Something like that, I guess.”
“Well, don’t make a habit of it. Punching bag isn’t in my job description.”
“You also don’t deserve it.”
The way he said it, his voice soft, it was obvious he meant that. It was also clear in that moment that there was something deeper going on inside of him that made him behave this way. I might never know what it was, but he suddenly reminded me of a wounded animal, and I had a soft spot for underdogs.
“No,” I murmured as we stared at each other.
“So, what now?” he asked.
“Now, you go back and talk to your friends. Tell them you’re going to do what my father asked. Therapy. No more shenanigans.”
There was that smile again. “Shenanigans?”
“Yes, shenanigans. Tone down the rock star stuff for six months. Can you do that?”
He sighed and ran a hand through his long black hair like this decision was literally painful for him. “Jesus, do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice.”
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Have a choice? About babysitting me?”
“I’m not babysitting you. I’m monitoring your compliance with the agreement to assist with the band’s publicity. There’s a difference. And yes, I have a choice, and I agreed to do this.” He didn’t have to know I was voluntold but I wasn’t bucking it because Zero Energy was a huge client and this would be big for my career with the firm.
“Alright then. I’m in. No more shenanigans and I’ll try to behave myself with Prissy.”
I choked back a laugh. “Prissy?”
He shrugged. “If the shoe fits, don’t you think?”
We agreed and he signed on the dotted line, then left my office with all the swagger of a hot rock star. My father was proud and the team congratulatory, but as I packed up for the night, something niggled me.
It was his eyes. He’d promised to behave at the same time his gaze seemed to sear right under my clothes to my very flesh. That man was trouble—as wild as the wind—and I wasn’t altogether sure I was equipped to handle him.
God, what had I done?