Chapter 22 #2
“Ah, there’s that wit. A little rough around the edges, but earnest. I do admire how comfortable you have become in the job and how quickly Cyrus seems at ease with you.
Even considering your questionable history.
And I do think it is sweet that you care so much about his career that you’re willing to play up the tragic love triangle angle. ” She chuckles.
Cyrus tenses beside me.
“What is she talking about?”
“I was going to tell you, but I haven’t had a chance. Apparently, the video of you collapsing and me running onto the stage to get to you has gone viral. My father wants us to play it up for the cameras. The whole star-crossed lover trope.”
Cy’s face screws up, and I’m sure it is the same look that I gave my father yesterday.
“And you’re okay with this?”
I shrug. “I’m not happy about it, but I can see the merit. Sales are up again today. You have three songs in the top ten.”
“I don’t care about that. I want to know how you feel,” he asks.
I swallow, but just then my father returns with a bottle of expensive scotch. I glare at him as he sets it near Cy, but Cy doesn’t take his eyes off my face.
“We’ll talk about it later,” I say, as the waiter approaches.
He hands out the menus, and I’m thankful to have something else to focus on, even for a short time. Anything other than the ballet of insults around the minefield is preferable.
The waiter keeps his attention on me as he lingers by my side to give the specials. He is handsome with warm chocolate eyes, and I blush when he smiles at me. Cyrus shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine as if reminding me he is beside me.
Please…like I need reminding. He is impossible to forget. I’ve tried and failed every day for five years, and he’s still in my bloodstream.
“For the lady,” the waiter says, handing me the wine list.
“I won’t need this, but thank you.”
“Oh, of course. May I recommend appetizers?”
“Yes, please,” Father answers.
I dare a glance at Cyrus as the waiter lists off the five items available. His eyes are filled with a warning that confuses me. Then again, as well as I know him—I’ll probably never understand Cyrus Vale completely.
“Have you made your decision, miss?” The waiter stares at me expectantly.
I smile, but before I can answer, Cyrus cuts in smoothly.
“She’ll have lobster risotto and the house Sauvignon Blanc. I’ll have the same but with water.”
The waiter blinks, clearly confused.
“Very well.”
I narrow my eyes at Cyrus.
He shrugs, unapologetic. “You always order it.”
“How would you even know that?”
He shrugs and smirks. What the hell does that mean?
“I don’t want a drink,” I say in frustration.
He shakes his head at me and leans in close while Anita and my father order.
“I know you are only doing that because of me.” His voice is low, intimate, the kind that slips under your skin and stays there. “Don’t act different around me.” Cy runs his fingers down my bare arm, goosebumps chasing the sensation. “I’m good. I promise. I hang around the band, remember?”
“Okay. I still want to know how you know about the lobster risotto.”
His eyes sparkle with a mischievousness that only he can pull off. “That is my little secret.”
“Or you’re a closet stalker.”
“Maybe I am,” he says and I look away as the earlier heat returns to my stomach. Damn him.
The waiter returns moments later with our drink order and appetizers. Cyrus never takes his eyes off me as I sip my wine.
“So…Haven.” Anita starts.
Great round two is in coming.
“How’s that handsome fiancé of yours? What is his name? Chandler? Chuck?”
“Charles,” I say flatly.
“Yes, that’s it. Charles.” She waves her drink around like she doesn’t really care.
“I cannot wait to meet him. He sounds like the perfect catch. A fancy lawyer from a super-rich family. Bravo. I just can’t imagine him being thrilled that you’re spending your nights on a tour bus with a bunch of half-dressed rock stars. ”
I want to grab my fork and stab her. Cyrus stiffens, his jaw flexing. Leave it to Anita to toss the ticking time bomb.
“He trusts me. That tends to happen in relationships that aren’t built on blackmail, Botox, and greed,” I say, with a smirk.
My father groans and gives me a stern look. But it doesn’t affect me anymore when it comes to Anita.
“I see. Trust. Such a delicate little thing. I hope he’s not too lonely at night without you,” she says, and the barb cuts deeply. She always manages to pick at my deepest fears.
“Anita, enough. This is supposed to be an enjoyable dinner. Not one filled with veiled insults,” Father shocks me as he scolds her. Then he turns his eyes on me. “Lets try for pleasant.”
Anita’s lips press into a firm line.
“That is what I was trying to do,” she says.
“No, you weren’t,” Father says, a bit harsher than before. “We’re here to enjoy a meal, not to trade insults. Let’s try to keep it that way.”
Anita sighs, obviously disappointed to be shutdown, but agrees.
Dinner is complete in three elegant courses. The lobster risotto is rich and hits all the right notes. The filet mignon with rosemary demi-glace melts on the tongue. And for dessert, a honeycomb panna cotta that shimmers in the soft light.
Dad fills the conversation with news of LG Records expanding.
He wants new satellite offices in Paris, Tokyo, and Brazil, hence the recent trip to Brazil.
He says words I never thought would come from his mouth—he’s found the next big K-Pop group.
Two years ago, my dad didn’t know what K-Pop was, let alone have an interest in signing a group.
His voice buzzes with pride and excitement, and I soak it in like sunlight.
Despite our tense reunion at the hospital, I miss these moments. We chat happily about all the artists, but also spend time on the positive news surrounding Venomous.
“I’m excited for you to be part of this, Haven,” Dad says. “You’ve got all the right instincts.”
Anita chimes in with a smile that can cut glass.
“It’s lovely to see Haven taking initiative and being determined. Especially considering how...temperamental some personalities in the industry can be.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, with as sweet a smile as I can muster. “Are you talking about your son or yourself?”
Cyrus chokes on his water.
“Why do you take everything that I say as an insult? It was meant as a compliment,” Anita replies, cool as frost.
We glare at one another, but our waiter has impeccable timing and arrives to clear our plates. This time, he leans closer than necessary and gives me a smile that’s a little too intimate.
Cyrus’s arm snakes across the back of my chair.
“She’s taken, and you’re making her uncomfortable. She’s just too polite to say,” Cy says in a casual tone, but the gleam in his eyes is lethal. “If you look at her like that again, I’ll get you fired and make you wish you’d never met me.”
Cy adds the last part only loud enough for me and the waiter to hear.
My cheeks flame red with embarrassment and I hate that the words make me feel gooey inside.
The waiter blinks, mutters an apology, and disappears.
“Well, that was humiliating. Was that necessary?”
“What? I’m just helping you out,” he comments with a shrug, but his eyes burn with jealousy.
Cyrus Vale has no right to look at me like that. Not now. Not after everything he has done to me.
My pulse thunders, and I need space.
“Excuse me, I’m going to the ladies’ room.”
Anita stands as well. “I’ll come with.”
Oh wonderful. This ought to be good.