“Found her yet?” Bob, the head of Staffan Aehrenthal’s security team and which the rock star had “politely” insisted Dylan use when he told the music industry’s power couple about his intentions.
Staffan had a distinctly amused look on his face after listening to Dylan’s words of apology. “Are you by any chance treating us like the parents of the bride and you’re asking for our permission to court Bree before offering her marriage?”
Dylan had answered calmly, “If she takes me back, I will want to marry her.”
Staffan glanced at his wife. “It’s up to her.”
When he had looked at Saffi, Dylan had been surprised at the sad look on the woman’s face. It was the first time he had seen the famous fangirl-turned-rock-star’s-wife to be anything but cheerful.
“Can you promise not to hurt her again, Dylan?” she had asked quietly, her blue eyes a lot like his in color but instead of darkness, hers shone bright and clear.
Her innocence was more than daunting, and he could feel her weighing him as she continued to look at Dylan in waiting silence.
“I can’t promise that, but I can promise you that I’ll love her best, love her always, and if I ever do hurt her, it won’t be intentional and hurting her will always hurt me more.”
Cold sweat had enveloped Dylan as Saffi March-Aehrenthal still did not speak.
And then Staffan said dryly, “Drop the act, H.”
Saffi’s giggle had surprised him. “Well, I just wanted to make him squirm. He deserves it after everything he did to my friend.”
ONE MOMENT SHE WAS trying her best to lose herself in the music, trying to feel a little bit more excited that she was in the arms of a young and handsome guy and then the next, someone was tapping on her partner’s back, a familiar voice saying, “Mind if I take my turn with the lady?”
Oh my God.
She drew away quickly, her face paling when it was indeed Dylan Charbonneau standing in front of her, dressed in a hoodie and jeans, dark shades hiding his famous blue eyes.
Classic rock star disguise syndrome, was her next thought and she almost smiled because of it. Rock stars were so delusional when it came to disguises. Did they really think something like this could fool people for long?
It had been a month since she had last seen him, and with him covered head to toe and her in a skimpy bikini, Bree couldn’t help feeling like a slut.
Looking at him was like having all her barely-healed wounds slashed open for the second time. If only it was possible to wish him away, she would have done so.
She didn’t need the past to haunt her again. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need him.
“Hi.” Dylan felt it was his role to speak first. Bree looked stunning, so much that it frightened him to realize it had been such a long time since he last fully appreciated how beautiful she was. Her long silky dark hair with its natural becoming curls, the way her long dark lashes framed her chocolate brown eyes, and how her face was like sunshine when her rosebud lips curved in a smile.
But she was not smiling now.
She was frowning at him unhappily, like he was a blight on her day.
He couldn’t blame her for that.
“Dylan, this is Evan.” She glanced at the other guy apologetically. “Evan, this is Dylan.”
Did she really think he wouldn’t be able to see right through her? She was deliberately omitting titles, further distancing them from each other.
Looking at the younger and shorter guy, he said emphatically, “Her ex.”
Evan smirked, looking at him straight in the eye as he repeated meaningfully, “Ex.”
The bastard would get his ass kicked soon if he looked at Dylan like that one more time.
Wanting to defuse the situation even though she was sure it had more to do with male egos needing a pissing contest to prove their manliness than her, Bree asked Evan, “I think I’ll need that drink after all.” And to stall him from protesting, she swiftly kissed his cheek.
Evan grinned, his eyes darting in triumph towards Dylan before looking back at Bree. “Sure, babe. Be back in a flash.”
Bree carefully avoided Dylan’s gaze after that, saying in a polite voice, “It was really nice meeting you, but—-”
“Let’s dance,” he said grimly, not giving Bree a chance to explain.
His body was hard and tense as he pulled her against him. She briefly considered struggling but knew that just wouldn’t be the best way to make herself known in her future school. And so she remained stiff in his arms instead.
“I miss you.”
“Stop it,” she said wearily. “It’s over—-”
“I’m not letting it be over until I show you I’ve changed,” he shot back, his arms tightening around hers. “I mean it this time, Bree. I’ve changed. I’ve...” He sucked his breath. “I’m ready to believe in us.”