Chapter 23 Reminder
REMINDER
MORGAN
Beggin For Thread By BANKS
Two days after my visit to Soundwave Music, I’m still no closer to solving the Hollow Reign drummer problem.
I stare at the list of potential replacements, but none of them have Liam’s technical skill or the chemistry he had with the rest of the band.
His syncopated fills and precise timing created the signature groove that made them stand out.
The showcase is only three weeks away, and Hollow Reign is one of our featured acts. Without Liam, they won’t be the same band that got signed, and it could jeopardize everything.
Hollow Reign was my first major signing since taking over the label—my chance to prove I have my father’s ear for talent and my own vision. If they fall apart now, it won’t only be a blow to the showcase; it’ll be a blow to my credibility.
My phone buzzes.
Phoenix: Any news from Liam? Casey’s cousin knows a drummer but he’s in a ska band and I will literally set myself on fire before I let that happen.
I sigh, about to respond when my office door flies open.
“Mommy!”
Hazel rushes in, cheeks flushed from excitement, and I barely have time to set my things down before she’s in my arms. I scoop her up, heart aching at the sight of her.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, kissing the top of her head.
Christian appears a beat later, leaning against the doorframe with an easy smile, the same one that used to melt me, and tugs at something I don’t have time for today.
“We thought we’d kidnap you for lunch.” His eyes sweep over me, then around the office.
“You look good behind that desk. Much better than hunched over a drafting table with pins in your mouth. Seems like you’ve found something that suits you. ”
The casual dismissal of my design career stings more than it should.
“I looked good at the drafting table too,” I say, my tone lighter than I feel. “My designs were in Vogue twice.”
“Sure, but this,” he gestures to the office, “this is substantial. Real business.”
I bite back a response for Hazel’s sake.
My inbox is overflowing with panicked emails from Phoenix and the rest of Hollow Reign. My assistant keeps sliding worried glances through the glass door. But Hazel’s looking at me all wide-eyed with excitement, and I can’t bear to disappoint her again.
“There’s a café at the end of the block. Hazel likes it,” I say, because how can I say no?
Her cheer fills the office, and before I know it, we’re heading down the sidewalk, Hazel between Christian and me, each holding one of her hands.
We pass people on the street who smile at us as if we’re portraying the perfect family.
The sun’s warm on my face, her small hand in mine grounding me in a way nothing else does.
For a moment, I let myself enjoy it, even as my mind races ahead to everything waiting for me when I get back.
At the café, we grab a table outside. I try to relax and not think about work or what the hell Christian’s doing here in the first place or how long he plans on staying.
Hazel starts chattering about her morning, her words tumbling out between bites of her sandwich.
“Mommy! We went to the park, and Daddy pushed me on the swings so high, I thought I could touch the sky! And I found this big climbing tree, bigger than any tree ever. I was the best climber. Right, Daddy?” she says, barely taking a breath, and I can’t help but laugh.
Christian grins. “The best. She had me chasing after her the whole time.”
I smile, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. “I’m so glad you had fun, baby. You deserve the best days.”
Slowly, I let myself relax, smiling at her stories. Christian chuckles, then leans back in his chair, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Remember the park with the iron fence? And how our little daredevil managed to—”
“Get her head stuck between the bars,” I finish, laughing. “And we were two seconds from calling the fire department because we thought we’d never get her out.”
Hazel groans and ducks behind her menu, peeking out with wide eyes. “I thought I was gonna be in big trouble,” she mumbles.
Christian laughs softly. “Until she got bored and popped her head out like it was nothing.”
We laugh together, the memory warm between us.
Christian’s hand drifts onto mine, casual, warm. His fingers still, like he’s about to say something meaningful. “I thought this might be a good time to bring up—” he starts, his voice soft, hesitant. The air shifts. I tense. What could he want to discuss?
“Dylan!” Hazel springs out of her seat.
I turn my head to see Dylan standing there, his gaze locked on Christian’s hand covering mine before he shifts his attention to Hazel. I pull away from Christian, the moment shattering like glass.
Dylan smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. I was on my way over to drop this off.” He hands Hazel a package and she rips it open, revealing a sticker pack.
“I love stickers!” she says with her high-pitched voice.
“Since you used up all of your other ones on my desk,” he says.
“Are those band stickers?” I laugh, picking through the pile and holding up one with a skeleton gripping a guitar.
Hazel snatches it from me. “This one is so cool.”
Dylan laughs, ruffling her hair. “Just keep these on paper, not on desks,” he warns with a wink.
Christian straightens, instantly on edge. “And you are?”
“Oh, this is Dylan Kernish-Grant,” I say quickly.
Christian’s eyebrows rise in recognition. “Ohh, you’re the kid who used to follow Morgan around at those summer parties.”
Dylan’s jaw tightens, his eyes sliding over to me.
“Well, now he’s the CEO of Stonewall Records,” I add, a defensive note in my voice.
Christian raises a brow, smile tight. “CEO? Do they wear piercings in the boardroom now?” he laughs.
“The industry’s changed. But I get it—hard to keep up with what’s current when you’ve been out of the loop.” He pauses, then adds, “I thought Morgan hired a manny because of the biting incident.”
“I’m her father,” Christian says through clenched teeth. He turns to me. “What biting incident?”
“Hazel got kicked out of her preschool because she bit another kid,” I look at her pointedly. “That’s why we were going to look at a new one this morning.”
Christian tries to maintain a steady expression but the twitch in his jaw is telling. “And he knows about this, but I don’t?”
Dylan grins, his tongue gliding over his lip ring as he flicks his gaze to me. I narrow my eyes at him, pulse racing.
“I was going to tell you. I didn’t get a chance,” I say, turning my attention to Christian.
“You had enough time to tell me to put on a shirt this morning though.”
Oh Jesus Christ, the testosterone is suffocating.
“Christian, you remember the showcase I mentioned?” I jump in quickly. “Dylan’s label is co-sponsoring it with Left Turn.”
“That new artist thing?”
“That new artist thing is expected to draw over a thousand attendees, including industry scouts and press,” Dylan says, his professional voice emerging.
“She’s secured four major sponsors, negotiated live-stream partnerships, and brought in Cirque Noire for custom stage design. So yeah, it’s a pretty big deal.”
I gape at him slack-jawed. I had no idea he’d been paying such close attention. The way he speaks about the showcase—with genuine respect for what I’ve built—is a stark contrast to Christian’s backhanded compliments.
Christian looks at me. “Cirque Noire?” he asks.
“Yeah, Ava helped negotiate for me,” I explain.
“You could have called me,” he says, hurt. “They’re part of the luxury brands my firm specializes in. You know this, Morgan.”
I didn’t want Christian involved in my business here.
“I know, I just… Ava offered, so,” I shrug, not wanting to explain further.
“Well, this has been fun, but I have to get back to the office,” Dylan says, glancing at me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.
“No!” Hazel raises her voice. “Color with me.” She shoves a crayon at Dylan.
He kneels in front of her. “I have to work, but maybe you can come visit me again.”
“I’ll bring my glitter markers and stickers,” she says excitedly and puts a sticker on Dylan’s shirt. He places his hand on it to make sure it sticks.
Dylan smiles and ruffles her hair. “Washable glitter markers?”
“I don’t know.” Hazel shrugs and continues coloring.
Dylan turns to me, shoves his hands in his pockets and says, “See you around, Morgan.”
“Must be past his naptime.”
“Christian!” I whip around to look at him. “What has gotten into you?”
The waiter comes by to refill my water, and it spills over, a few droplets landing onto my skirt.
“Oh!” I jump up before more can fall in my lap.
“I’m so sorry,” the waiter apologizes.
“It’s fine, really.” I wave him off. “I’ll be right back.” I stand up, dabbing my napkin at the wet spot but doing no good.
I hurry to the restroom, pushing through the café crowd. As I round the corner, someone grabs my wrist and pulls me into the family bathroom. My heart jumps into my throat.
Dylan.
“What are you—” I start to say, but he’s already locking the door behind us.
“You need to be reminded he’s your ex,” Dylan says, voice rough with barely contained desire as he backs me against the sink. His eyes are dark with something I can’t quite name—jealousy, need, or both.
Before I can respond, his mouth crashes into mine. The kiss is hungry, desperate—all teeth and tongue and want. His hands grip my hips, lifting me onto the counter in one fluid motion.
“This is insane,” I gasp against his lips, even as my fingers fumble with his belt buckle.
“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, but he’s already pushing my skirt up my thighs, his fingers finding me wet and ready.
Instead of answering, I yank him closer by his shirt collar, biting his lower lip. He groans, the sound vibrating through me as his fingers work magic between my legs.
“Someone could hear us,” I breathe, even as I unzip his pants and take him in my hand.