Say You're Mine - Layla Hagen Page 0,25

was saying. If I didn’t get a message, I was wondering what he was up to. And that had to stop, as I was doing a disservice to my clients.

***

On Tuesday, I woke up with a solution: I’d just leave both my phone and my smartwatch in my purse. But right now, I had Brayden on my mind. We’d agreed to talk at seven thirty.

I snapped a picture after the second coffee, sending it to him along with the caption “I’m ready.”

I sat on my fluffy couch, staring at my phone. My face exploded into a grin when the screen lit up with his name.

“So punctual,” I teased.

“I don’t want to waste a minute.”

“How come you get up so early?”

“We have a gym routine.”

“Now that I’d love to see.” Holy shit, did I say that out loud?

Brayden chuckled. “Always happy to give you a private show.”

I groaned. “Maybe we should rethink this talking in the morning thing. My thoughts are even more unfiltered.”

“I like that.”

We chatted about everything from my breakfast to his plan for the day. Before I knew it, I had to leave.

“I want to hear your voice tonight. Let’s talk after my TV appearance,” he said. “This wasn’t enough.”

“Okay,” I whispered, knowing I was going to think about the phone call the whole day.

***

During every break, I rushed to the closet where I kept my bag, checking both my watch and phone to see if I had any messages..

I was so excited, I couldn’t even explain it, especially since we hadn’t talked about the elephant in the room. I didn’t bring it up, and neither did he. But I was enjoying talking to him too much. Perhaps we could get this flirting out of our system by the time he returned, and then we’d behave.

At lunch, Sasha texted to ask if I could meet her for drinks after work so we could discuss the next steps. I agreed to it because I had no plans.

They’d done another Facebook live video yesterday from Nashville. I’d looked through the comments and wanted to discuss them with her. The talk show they went on yesterday was also streamed on YouTube, so I read the comments there as well. They weren’t as enlightening as the Facebook lives, because the band didn’t have control over the content.

I met Sasha in the lobby of the Plaza Hotel, smack-dab in Manhattan. I knew the building from my guided tours, as it appeared in a lot of movies, like Home Alone 2 and Sex and the City, but I’d never been inside. It was all plush expensive carpets, crystal chandeliers, and golden accents. The place dripped with old luxury.

Sasha was wearing a knockout black cocktail dress. I’d only ever seen her in office clothes before and noticed how lovely she looked tonight. I hadn’t wanted to change at the office, so I’d dressed casual chic this morning, with a knee-length red dress that had a deep V neckline. My favorite part was the black belt around my middle.

Just to be on the safe side, I left my phone in my purse, on mute, so I wouldn’t be tempted to look if I heard a message. I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about this thing between Brayden and me, and until I knew what it was, it made no sense to bring it up now.

“How come you’re not away with the band?” I asked after the waiter brought us peanuts and the menus.

“Good God, I don’t always travel with them. It would be so exhausting. They don’t need me with them in person. I’m always available on the phone anyway. I’ll travel with them during the first part of their tour, but I don’t go away every time. Now, let’s see what you’ve got before we start on the cocktails.”

“Sure.” I took the iPad out of my purse, and of course I couldn’t resist and also checked my phone. My stomach bottomed out. I didn’t have any new messages. Then I remembered the talk show had started. God, I was in trouble.

I showed Sasha the psychological profiling I’d done on the band and their fans and highlighted what they had in common. I’d also made a list of topics they could tackle during their live videos, or even in interviews, if the host was cooperative. It was all designed to fill in that gap the label had identified—the fans wanted personal tidbits from the band, not promo material thrown at them. And if they responded well