Chapter 22
Everett
Ican see why they’re all enamored by her.
She’s not at all like I expected her to be.
The media portrays her as this vapid, at best, poisonous, at worst, kind of young woman. But she’s completely different.
She almost seems innocent, bopping along to the music.
And I find myself as enraptured with her as the rest of them, watching and cataloguing her every reaction.
“It has a different sound than your other music,” she comments, smiling up at Beckham.
“I had some good inspiration,” Beckham says, flashing her a wink.
She wrings her hands in her lap.
“No one’s ever written me a song like that,” she murmurs.
“Seriously? But didn’t—” Beckham’s jaw slams shut, and he shakes his head.
“Ezra wrote me songs, but they weren’t like... that. They were mostly about how good I was in bed,” she says, letting out a soft huff of laughter.
Beckham makes a face as if he’d just sucked on a lemon.
I find myself fighting the urge to make a similar expression at the mention of her ex.
It was impossible to escape the photos the paparazzi took of her that night when I was doing my research on her. There was so much blood.
Part of the reason I signed Beckham, besides his undeniable talent, was that protective instinct I can’t help but feel to my core.
“Anyway,” Beckham says, nodding towards me. “Everett produced this one himself.”
Andi turns her gaze towards me, but it skitters away a moment later.
The brief glance is enough to ignite a thrill inside of me. I’m the kind of man who loves the chase. And every cell in my body is screaming at me to chase this pretty little omega down so I can learn all the ways to make her chamomile perfume sweeten with honey as it did earlier.
As quickly as the feeling appears, I do my best to stamp it down.
I may have my own... tastes, but the last thing I would do is impose them on a girl who very clearly has a past with violent alphas. I would be too intense for her.
“Aren’t you a record exec?” she asks softly, her gaze flitting back to me.
“Yes. But I worked my way up.”
“Everett started working as a music producer when we were all swimming in our Dad’s balls,” Beckham comments.
Andi stiffens, but I can’t tell whether it’s because of the mention of her father or because it was a reminder of how much older I am than the lot of them.
“Is it ‘cause you started working early or...”
“Because I’m old?” I chuckle.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She blushes, her eyes tightening in the corners as if she wishes she could take her words back.
Too late, pretty thing.
I raise a single brow, my gaze not wavering from her face.
That single statement was enough to reignite the feeling I tried to tamp down earlier. So my age isn’t something she finds off-putting.
“Anyway,” she says, clearing her throat. “The song really was amazing. I can tell you’re really passionate about it.” She glances at me. “Both of you are.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“And what are you passionate about, Andi?”
“Me?” she squeaks, as if I’d just asked her a question as unexpected as what color panties she was wearing now. “Oh, well...”
She shifts her weight, inadvertently pressing her leg further into Leo’s, probably for emotional support.
She’s truly acting like she’s never been asked before.
It’s rewriting all my preconceived notions about her.
Beckham seems to sense the awkwardness in that emotionally attuned, omega way of his. He slides onto the couch next to her, reaching over and resting his arm along the back cushion.
“Oh, I know the answer to this!” he says, leaning forward and brushing some of her windswept hair away from her face. “How about video editing?”
She offers him a soft, sweet smile.
“Yeah, I guess... yeah,” she nods, swallowing hard.
Her gaze bounces around the room, taking in and settling upon nothing in particular. I file away the way she answered the question in the back of my mind. She’s incredibly hesitant. Like she’s afraid she’s going to get yelled at.
It reminds me of the entire reason I wanted to meet her.
As drawn to her as I may be, I have a responsibility to protect Beckham and this team. That means poking a little deeper to see who we’re dealing with, especially if everything the media has ever said about her has been false.
“Maybe it runs in the family. Your father was a fantastic filmmaker, too,” I say, my gaze never leaving her face.
All the boys stiffen. Elijah even lets out a soft grunt, probably because if anyone made a comparison between him and his father, he’d freak out.
Andi’s breath hitches at my comment. She takes a sip from her coffee before nodding slowly.
She meets my gaze. There’s a level of awareness there that showcases how smart she is. She knows I’m poking at her, trying to see how her mind works.
“I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t allowed to watch his films.”
“That’s a shame,” I hum, filing away that information too.
She fidgets with the coffee cup in her hands.
“You probably know more about him than I do,” she continues quietly. “My mom...”
Everyone waits with bated breath, giving her the space she needs. It’s obvious from the curl in her shoulders and the bitter aftertaste in her perfume that this is a difficult conversation. But the fact that she’s still willing to continue means something.
Something good, in my books.
It indicates a baseline level of genuine trust that’s hard to find in this industry. The fact that she’s even capable of it, especially with someone like me—a virtual stranger—in the room, is a good sign. A sign that her mother and this soul-sucking industry haven’t made her a shell of a human yet.
“You can tell us, Andi,” Beckham murmurs, reaching out and resting a hand on her thigh.
“My mom is good at having her way,” she says, setting her coffee down on the table in front of her. “And her way demonized anything to do with him. She has a bad habit of demonizing anything she doesn’t like, including me sometimes.”
“That must’ve been a terrible environment to grow up in,” Leo says, his voice taking on the uncharacteristic hint of a growl.
“Yeah, it was pretty shitty,” she says, letting out a tired huff of bitter laughter. “But she’s my mom.”
“Blood doesn’t mean you have to lie there and take it,” Eli grunts.
Her gaze cuts to him and lingers there as she soaks in his words. She blinks in shock as if this is the first time she’s heard that too.
What kind of childhood must she have had for her to react this way to what we’re saying?
We’re not saying anything revolutionary.
“I mean, it wasn’t that bad,” she says with a shake of her head. “I don’t think it’s like she sets out to hurt me. She has her reasons.”
Her automatic defense of her mother screams that she’s been saying lines like that for years.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you guys this,” she mumbles with a shake of her head.
Leo shifts closer to her on the couch, and she eases into his side, seeking comfort from him as she stares off into space.
“So, I actually had a pretty crazy question to ask you,” Beckham says, twiddling his thumbs nervously.
“Oh?” she asks, blinking at him. Her lips quirk up in a small smile. “Crazier than some of the other things you’ve asked me.”
“Ehh, maybe not crazier. I’m still waiting on your answers to said crazy questions, by the way,” he says, flashing her a wink. “I was wondering whether you’d like to direct the music video for the song I just showed you.”
The air goes still as she freezes.
I raise a brow, eyeing the two of them with surprise.
Beckham didn’t run this question by me first. Which probably means he cared enough about it that he didn’t want to get the idea shot down, which I would’ve certainly done before meeting her.
“Really? You’d—you’d trust me enough to do that?”
“Of course I would! I know it was a pretty crazy time, but you were a natural at that ad campaign we did together. I really want to see what you’re capable of with full creative control. You’ve got a gift, Starlight, it’d be a shame for you not to shine.”
She stares down at her hands, picking at the cuticles past her expertly manicured nails.
“Wow, I’m honored,” she murmurs softly. “I’ve never had an opportunity like this before.”
“Why not? Beck is right, you really do have a gift,” Leo adds.
“My mom... She’s never let me do anything like that. The most I’m allowed to do is those vlogs I make for social media.”
Something clicks in my mind. I’ve met some incredibly vindictive people in this industry.
Gina Sterling, though I’ve never met her personally, is probably near the top of that list. And everyone knows how much she hates Andi’s father.
It wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that Gina Sterling tried to get rid of every trace of Edison Wade, her ex-bondmate. Unfortunately for her, it seems like some of his talent was passed down to their daughter.
Maybe it was inevitable, considering how much skill the man has himself.
“Well, forgive my French, but fuck her,” Beckham says with a huff, running a hand through his hair. He winces when he sees the twisted expression on her face. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean that. No, that’s a lie. I did, but I didn’t have to say it like that—”
“No, it’s okay,” she says, reaching out and resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’ve just... never had someone say that about my mom. At least not in defense of me, you know?”
“Well, then I definitely mean it,” he says, an easy grin appearing on his face. “So, what do you say? Can I count on the Andromeda Sterling to direct the music video for my next single?”
“Sure,” she says, the tenseness in her face melting away into a soft smile of her own.
“You know, I’d normally think you’d run such big decisions by me,” I hum, raising a brow at Beckham.
“Thought you’d say no,” he says, wincing sheepishly.
“I likely would have,” I drawl. Andi stiffens beside him, eyeing me warily. I purposely soften my expression when I turn my gaze to her. “But that’s changed—now that I’ve met you.”
There she goes, blinking those gorgeous eyes at me again. A soft blush crosses her high cheekbones. I want to learn just how far down her blush goes.
Fuck, I obviously have a significant amount of pent-up energy stored up if every other thought I have when I look at her is sexual.
“I’m glad I meet your approval,” she says with a soft huff of laughter. “Just what I was aiming for.”
Even her soft snark makes me want to bend her over my desk.
I can’t help but want to see more of her, but based on the intensity of my reaction, maybe that’s not a good idea.