Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
The plan started with me telling him to quit the fucking flirting, but that led to me imagining how he would respond to such demands. Those thoughts led to convincing myself that if we managed our expectation, then maybe we could have a little of what we had before.
But I know better. I know that despite the sex between the two of us being amazing, I couldn’t keep the emotional distance. I have no doubt Archer could, and maybe that’s what he’s after anyway.
“Ready?” he asks, as he slips his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans.
“Yeah,” I tell him, making sure to keep out of arm’s reach when I head to the front door.
I know he’s going to do everything in his power to test my patience. I just have to be strong. When he realizes nothing between us is going to happen, he’ll cancel the contract.
Maybe then I can seriously start working on getting over Archer Bremen.
Chapter 32
Archer
“I bet your lips taste amazing,” I whisper.
Brooks takes another step away from me.
Being me, I shift to the left, putting us closer than we were before he moved.
“Sweet and delicious,” I whisper, my eyes checking on the woman at the front desk.
He keeps his eyes trained across the room.
This is how it’s been for weeks. He’s been in a bad mood since he came back to work, and no level of flirting and teasing has made him smile.
I miss his fucking smile. I miss his eyes on me at random times, not just when he’s actually working.
I thought things would be different when I rehired Blackbridge Security and asked for him specifically, but the man they sent was not the man who left my bathroom that night.
I don’t catch him watching me. He doesn’t lick his lips when I do yoga in the middle of the living room. He doesn’t look jealous when I flirt with other people.
He’s just working. It’s exactly what I asked for, but when I assured his boss, Deacon Black, that I didn’t need the man to pretend to be my boyfriend any longer, I expected more.
I wanted him to touch me because he wanted to, not because he was getting paid. I guess I shot myself in the foot on that one because he’s been a fucking robot.
I’m doing my best to distract myself, pretending that I’m fine, when really this is going to be one of the worst days of my life.
We just flew into California for business, and we’re in the waiting room of the record label that took on Lucid Unrest years ago after buying out our original contract.
The band has made them a lot of money, but we’re not here to celebrate today. In less than an hour, Lucid Unrest will no longer exist. The company had the band trademarked, and we thought nothing of it. They controlled licensing of all merchandise, and in the beginning, we were just happy to get a small cut of all of it, considering we weren’t responsible for any of the overhead. As teens, we saw it as free money.
Now that the band is being dissolved, no one but the record label can legally do a thing with any of it.
“Archer,” the woman behind the desk says, disdain dripping from her tone.
Every other time I’ve been here, Lydia has offered me something to drink. I’ve always been Mr. Bremen. She would bend over backward to see to my needs. Her change in behavior is proof of what will happen today.
I don’t tell Brooks to join me, but I’m grateful when he falls into step behind me. He may not offer any level of physical support, but him being with me when the last nail is put in my coffin is a relief.
I do my best not to show my surprise when I find not only Fletcher but all my bandmates sitting around the large conference table.
I’ve been in the waiting room for nearly an hour, and they’ve been in here?
I take the only seat remaining, knowing Brooks is standing almost directly behind me because that’s where Fletcher’s glare lands.
The other guys in the band refuse to look at me. I know I shoulder all the blame for this happening, but I’d never say that out loud. It holds legal ramifications, and I’m not opening the door for any more trouble.
Their hatred for me grows when we get underway, and we’re informed that we’re each equally responsible for the fees accrued from canceled shows.
Fletcher voices his opinion on that, and the other guys mumble their agreement.
“The contract each of you signed states that all members have equal shares in the band,” the executive at the head of the table states. “That means the good and the bad. There were no provisions in place.”
“We never thought one of us would fuck us over,” my bass guitarist spits. “Hell, we never thought our bandmates would fuck each other.”