I didn’t have friends. I didn’t even have family I trusted. I’d never felt more alone in my life.
So I’d finally made the decision to not renew my contract, step away from the constant performances, and realign. I’d told myself that everyone who worked with me would find the next big act to work with, and I could step away secure in the knowledge that I’d contributed to their careers. I told myself I would start fresh and put down roots. Then maybe, finally, I would have the quiet time and solace I needed to be able to breathe through the pain of my past mistakes and learn how to forgive myself so I could move on.
That’s when the first note came, throwing me solidly against my past.
“You’re all clear.”
Lost in my own spiral, I started at the sound of the male voice behind me before turning to face the man Ronan called Harm. “Thank you.”
With his deep-set eyes more haunted than Ronan’s, Harm nodded before his gaze cut to my neck and arms. “Please wait with security in the hallway next time we clear your suite.”
Embarrassment flushed my cheeks. I’d heard him say something when I’d barreled past him in the hall, but in my rush to get to the other suite before I cried in front of anyone, I hadn’t paid attention. I’d let myself in, then Harm was entering right behind me, telling me to wait.
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I needed to remember the very reason we were all here. A single well-placed bomb, and I wouldn’t have the luxury of getting lost in my own thoughts ever again.
Harm studied me a moment. His hair was neatly trimmed, and his clothes were perfectly pressed, but he looked like a barely contained wild animal. I didn’t know if it was the feral look in his eyes or how his arms were bulging out of his short-sleeved T-shirt, or how he smelled slightly of the woods in winter, but it was difficult to make eye contact with him without instantly wanting to look away.
As if reading my wariness around him, Harm blinked, and his expression turned pacifying. “He’ll keep you safe.”
Disarmed, I gave him a short laugh void of humor. “He?” I waved my hand toward the door of the suite where another equally muscled man who worked with Ronan stood guard. “I’m surrounded by the best security money can buy. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Hopefully.
“I meant Ronan,” he clarified.
My throat suddenly tight, I didn’t acknowledge what he’d just said. “I would like to be alone now.”
With a simple nod, he retreated, and a moment later, I heard the soft click of the suite door as it shut.
I tried to take a calming breath, but my heart was racing, my fingers were tingling, and I wondered for the millionth time if every step I’d ever taken since signing that first contract was a mistake. Inhaling, telling myself all of this—the bomber, the inhuman schedules, the living on the road, the people surrounding me that didn’t care about me, just the brand created by a record label—it would all be over soon, and I would be able to breathe without anxiety.
Willing myself to believe it, inhaling again, but slower so I didn’t hyperventilate from the panic that’d been slowly eating away at my defenses, I turned toward the churning ocean view that mimicked my mood.
Caught up in wishing I could go downstairs and feel the sand between my toes and the wind on my face and taste the salt air that smelled like him, I was startled by my cell quietly ringing.
Pulling the nuisance out of my pocket, I frowned when I saw the unidentified number on the screen. Always trying to preserve my voice, I never spoke on the phone. Everyone who had my private number knew to text or email.
Hesitant, I answered. “Hello?”
“We need to talk.”
Deep, commanding, Ronan’s voice gripped the girl I’d once been and flooded her with memories as my heart rate shot toward the atmosphere.
The connection feeling intimate after ten years of not having a single call from him, I wanted nothing more than to talk. I wanted to lie in his arms and stare at the stars and chat for hours as I confessed every sin, dream and desire I’d ever had to the one man who was once my best friend. But that wasn’t what he meant. “This isn’t the number I texted you on the other night.”