Chapter 5 #2
“Like you said,” he began, his voice wavering with uncertainty as they rushed to cross the street before the lights changed, “I want to create. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Is it?” Harry asked, sending him an almost teasing, sideways smile.
“It is,” Nikky insisted, like he had to defend himself for some reason. “I love music and I love acting. And I’m good at them. Pamela, my foster mother, recognized my talent when I was pretty young and always encouraged it.”
Harry didn’t stop, but he glanced at Nikky, brow shooting up. “You were in foster care?”
Nikky suddenly felt sick. “Um, yeah,” he said. Inwardly, he winced and hoped Harry would let the subject drop.
But Harry continued to watch him expectantly.
“My mother was Russian, which is why my full, legal name is Nikolai” he blurted, glancing around and praying no one was listening in.
“She was one of those Russian brides. My dad went over to Russia to pick her out at some shady event and bring her to the US. He was a lot older than her, and he was abusive.” Harry’s eyes went wide.
“I never knew my father,” Nikky continued in a hurry.
“When Mom got pregnant with me, he accused her of cheating on him and kicked her out. He is my biological father, though. Mom had the tests to prove it.”
“Shit, Nikky,” Harry said.
Nikky hunched in on himself under the weight of his origin story.
“She was supposed to go back to Russia, but she stayed illegally with some friends. I was born, and she tried to take care of me, but since she couldn’t legally get a job, she ended up…
doing things to survive. She also ended up doing drugs.
That’s why CPS took me when I was five.”
“Fuck,” Harry went on. “Is any of that public knowledge?”
Nikky shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not hidden. I don’t focus on it at all in my bio, but I’m sure people know at least part of the story.”
In fact, way back when things were starting to pick up during Cooked, he’d asked his team not to focus on his childhood at all.
He liked Pamela and Brad enough, but he didn’t have some flowery story about how they felt like real parents to him.
And any discussion of where he came from would mean talking about the awful story of his parents.
It took a few seconds for Nikky to realize Harry was watching him in thought. “What?” he asked, bristling with self-consciousness.
“Nothing,” Harry said, shrugging. “It just seems, I don’t know, kind of…sad that you grew up in foster care and now you’ve made this massive career for yourself, but your manager didn’t come with you to London or send any kind of a team with you.”
Nikky’s chest hurt with those words. “Well, when you put it that way,” he pretended to take the comment as a joke and did some of his very best acting to look like he was amused.
“It’s not like I’m here for some big publicity campaign, so I don’t need a whole team.
And Charlotte is coming in a few days, so I’ll be coddled by the end of the week. ”
Harry laughed, but he was also acting. The compassion in the man’s eyes was vibrant.
They reached the front entrance of the studio, but instead of going straight in, Harry stopped just outside and stared at Nikky. As much as Nikky wanted to look away and hide so the man he admired so much wouldn’t see the pain echoing furiously inside of him, he met Harry’s eyes and tried to smile.
“You really want me to help you blast your entire career to bits,” Harry said. Nikky wasn’t sure if it was a question or a restatement of fact.
“Fame isn’t what I thought it would be,” Nikky answered, fully aware of how vague he sounded.
Harry was silent for a few more seconds as he studied him. “But you love music, you love acting, and you want to keep doing it.”
Heat and a weird sort of embarrassment flushed all through Nikky.
He didn’t know what he was doing. His plan to hire someone through Rent-A-Boyfriend to blow up his public image was half-baked at best. He questioned everything now, questioned whether he was spinning out of control without anyone to help and guide him and keep him on the right path.
He worried he was turning into his mother.
“I love music and I love acting,” he said quietly, no idea how to defend himself or justify his choices.
Another uncomfortably intense silence followed before Harry sucked in a breath and nodded. “I think I know what to do,” he said.
Relief bigger than anything Nikky had ever known flooded him. “And what’s that?”
Harry didn’t answer directly. “If you ask me, I don’t think you need to torpedo your career or your public image to accomplish what you want. You just need to change the narrative to stop people like Albion and your fans from putting you in a shiny box where you don’t belong.”
“Okay,” Nikky agreed slowly.
“You need to be the author of your own narrative and to create that box yourself,” Harry went on.
“Sounds good.” Something fizzy and exciting started to build in Nikky’s stomach at the way Harry watched him with mischievous calculation.
“You can have your cake and eat it, too, you just need to shift from lemon drizzle to black forest gateau.”
Nikky laughed. “I have no idea what that means.”
A sly, seductive look spread across Harry’s gorgeous face. “You’ll find out,” he said, clapping a hand on Nikky’s shoulder. Nikky felt tingles spread straight through him to his dick at the touch. “Do you trust me?” Harry asked on.
“With my life,” Nikky answered breathlessly, meaning it far more than he should.
Harry grinned. “Then have fun at your recording session this afternoon, don’t let Albion walk all over you, and I’ll be back to pick you up and take you out at the end of the day.”
“Okay.”
Excitement and anticipation buzzed through Nikky, making him half dizzy.
He could hardly hold still as he and Harry hugged goodbye and as he headed into the studio and back through its hallways to find Albion so they could get to work.
Even if Albion did push him to try out a dozen songs that were wildly inappropriate for the image he wanted to cultivate for himself, which was exactly what the afternoon brought, he could let it all bounce off him like none of it mattered.
Because Harry had a plan.
“We’ve done some really good work today,” Albion said once they called it quits near six o’clock. “I think it’s obvious you’re going to be a massive star.”
“I just want to put out an album I can be proud of,” Nikky replied as they walked together to the foyer. He managed a genuine smile, even though he’d hated most of what Albion had presented for him to test out. “An album with a good amount of my own music,” he clarified.
“Sure, sure. We’ll talk about it,” Albion said, patting his back as they stepped into the wide front foyer.
Harry was already waiting for him by the door. He’d changed into black trousers, a black t-shirt, and black leather jacket that was tight enough to show off his body. He’d also outlined his eyes with dark liner, which gave him a sexy, dangerous look. The smile he gave Nikky made his knees weak.
“You ready?” Harry asked, sauntering forward like he would grab Nikky by the collar and lead him out into the dark of London and into all sorts of trouble.
Albion didn’t approve. “You need to watch who you spend your time with,” he warned Nikky in a low voice. “People have lost careers because they’ve hung out with the wrong crowd.”
Nikky could have laughed. Albion had hit the nail on the head without realizing it.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, breaking away from Albion and crossing to Harry.
“I’m ready,” he answered Harry’s earlier question.
“But now I’m wondering if I’m underdressed.
” He looked down at his faded jeans and logo T-shirt.
Harry’s grin turned downright lascivious. “We can go shopping on our way to the club.”
A club? What kind of club?
Of course, looking at Harry and hearing that they would need to go shopping for something appropriate for him to wear told Nikky a lot about what kind of club.
He was dizzy with excitement.
“Let’s go,” he said, breathless and aching with readiness, and a few other new and exciting feelings.
Harry glanced past him to Albion and winked like he’d just beaten Albion at a high-stakes game.
Albion stared back at him with a flat expression.
There was definitely a war between the two men and Nikky was either going to be a prize or collateral damage. But as Harry reached for his hand and led him out into the cool night, he wasn’t sure he cared. He was about to get exactly what he’d signed up for.