21
The windowless roomwas supposed to be for privacy, a way to get this deal done and stave off exhaustion. I didn’t expect it to be this hard. I was naive maybe—Jax has been in this industry for two decades, and he makes it look easy. I’m used to being able to make things happen myself. Army of one.
“That’s it. Wicked’s ownership hasn’t come back by now, they’re not going to.” I shove out of my chair.
“If they do and you’re not here to sign, this will be over,” the lawyer weighs in. “Exclusivity will lapse, and everything we’ve worked on will be for nothing.”
He doesn’t say all the money you’ve spent will be wasted, but it’s implied.
A knock comes at the door.
“Yeah,” I bark out.
It opens a few inches, and a man appears with a silver cart covered with bottles.
“Apologies, Mr. Adams, we customarily bring a bar for our VIP guests before dinner.”
I jerk upright. Dinner?
“What time is it?”
He tells me, and the blood drains from my face.
I lean against the wall, flexing my hand. The scars have faded over the past three years since that night in New York changed everything. Now, my eyes crossing from fatigue, the white lines blur.
The image etched in the broken skin—delicate black lines, twisting and weaving—remains clear and steadfast.
The rose, its petals swooping over the back of my hand, its leaves stretching toward my fingers, its vines curling around my wrist.
Annie. She’s what matters. When things are going well, but especially when they’re not.
Fuck. I’m worried about doing right by artists I don’t even know, but I’m not doing right by the most important person in my life.
The truth of that rings through me.
“I need to be with Annie.” I roll down my sleeves and start for the door. While the bar attendant hurries to get out of the way, Jax grabs my arm.
He’s as frustrated as I am. “Don’t make this decision lightly. I know this is the last place you want to be right now. But sometimes the world is bigger than what we want, Tyler.”
I suck in a breath, my heart hammering as I step out into the hall for privacy. He follows.
“I get it,” I state when I turn back to face him. “You want this deal. You want Wicked because of what they did to you, and you want to shape the industry. But I’ve been working on something for years too.” My throat is raw. “And she’s standing out there waiting for me.”
Understanding dawns on his face, but I continue. “What would you do if it was Haley out there? Tell me you wouldn’t say, ‘Fuck the deal.’ She’s worth a million deals.”
He opens his mouth to argue but shakes his head. “You’re right. If it was Hales out there, I would give up anything for her.”
I clap a hand on his shoulder, then dash down the hallway. As I sprint out the door of the villa, I hit her contact on my phone.
It rings once. Twice.
I hang up as I see Haley stalking up the path.
Her mouth opens, but before she can speak, I hold up a hand. “I’m coming.”
I take off down the path, running in the dress shoes I put on during a break between calls.
The sun’s setting, and each second feels as if it takes hours.