Collaring Chaz (Dante's Infernal #2) - Joel Abernathy Page 0,70

you waiting long. A photoshoot ran late.”

“Is that so?” Drake asked. Already getting into it, it seemed. “Because I heard you sprang him from rehab just for the occasion.”

I looked over at Drake in confusion, but the way Sterling’s entire demeanor shifted suggested there was at least a grain of truth to it. Chaz was just staring off at nothing in particular, except that I could tell he was doing his best not to make eye contact with any of us.

I’d already barely slept from worrying about him, but that fear took on a new dimension. Rehab? Had Jacob been putting him through so much hell that his habits had gotten even worse? Or maybe it was just the stress of the nonstop pimping ever since Sterling had snatched him up. I doubted this was helping any, and now I wasn’t sure about anything Drake and I had planned.

Not if he was this fragile…

“That’s a confidential matter I’m not permitted to discuss on my client’s behalf,” Sterling said, folding his hands in front of him.

“Really?” Drake challenged. “Because if I didn’t know better, I’d think it was a carefully staged leak to slander the label in the headlines. ‘Cruel, avaristic manager drags former client from rehab to continue legal dispute.’ Something along those lines?”

Sterling paused as if he was considering Drake’s words, his fingers pressed lightly together. “I suppose that is one way they might spin it, isn’t it? Of course, that depends largely on tonight’s proceedings.”

I was beginning to see why they’d fucked, but I couldn’t understand why they had ever split up. They really were a match made in hell.

“Blackmail,” Drake said in a bored tone. “I see you haven’t learned any new tricks.”

Sterling smirked. “No tricks here, love. You’re the one who asked to meet, so I assume you came prepared to negotiate?”

“If by negotiate, you mean take back what’s rightfully mine, then yes,” Drake countered. I bristled at him claiming any ownership to Chaz, before I reminded myself we were on the same side of the table for once. For now. He took a folder from our lawyer and opened it, pulling on his reading glasses as he looked over the fine print. “Especially since it’s become clear you really think you’re going to get away with beginning that tour.”

“I take it you haven’t come to your senses on our generous offer,” said Sterling.

“Generous?” Drake chuckled. “I own the boy’s soul and you think you can just offer me five million and fractional royalties?”

“I wouldn’t turn your nose up at it so soon,” said Sterling. “The projected earnings for the tour are quite a bit higher than yours, and five percent of a fortune is better than a hundred percent of nothing.”

If Drake’s jaw clenched any harder, it was going to snap off. “How many accountants did you have to pay to get that fantasy to jerk off to? In any case, the money is hardly the primary issue here.”

Dante and I both did a double-take at that one. I was pretty sure that was the first time Drake had uttered those words in his life. I looked at Chaz, but if he’d heard, he didn’t even react. He was still about a million miles away, chewing on the frayed edge of his sleeve. It was a nervous habit I had always found adorable, but in light of everything else, it was just proof of how off he was.

“Oh, I’m sure,” said Sterling. “Of course you want him now that he’s all anyone’s talking about.”

“I made him,” Drake hissed.

“You stifled him,” Sterling said with a wave of his hand. “A few months under the right guidance and he’s flourished. You really think you could keep the momentum going even if I handed him back to you tonight? Or would you just go back to having him play backup to your washed-up progeny to save your ego?”

Drake was seething too much to respond right away, but that remark seemed to bring Chaz out of whatever trance he was in, and he frowned at Sterling.

“Please stop.”

Sterling turned his head slowly in the direction of the quiet voice, and the way Chaz flinched flipped some switch in my brain. “Your input isn’t needed right now.”

“What are you, his manager or his handler?” Drake scoffed. “Let the boy speak for himself, assuming he still can.”

Sterling leaned back in his chair, his arms folded as tightly as his posture and the line of his mouth. He didn’t look at Chaz, but