“Mr. Cross will be with you momentarily,” Bailey replied and sat back at her desk.
“Are you going to wait out here during the meeting?” Billie asked Eli.
“I can come with you if you want and sit off to the side.”
“I’d like that. I had another question…”
Billie’s words were interrupted by the appearance of a man that was familiar to Eli even though he was sure they’d never met before. Wearing faded blue jeans, a matching denim shirt, and a beaded necklace around his throat, the man walked with a purposeful stride that was confident and quick. Thick brown hair with threads of silver was styled in an undercut and emphasized his cut cheekbones and pale blue eyes. He wasn’t part of the band, but this was probably…
“Ivan Cross, Wayward Lane’s manager. Nice to meet you in person, Billie, instead of just virtually.” The manager paused and shook Billie’s hand, then turned to Eli. “And you must be Eli, from Spartan. Thanks for the heads-up text.” Ivan had a crushing grip, just like his boss, Mason.
“Well, if you’re good, we’re ready for you.” Ivan motioned to the hallway.
Billie turned to Ivan. “You don’t mind if Eli sits in with us,do you?”
“Of course not.”
“Who am I presenting to tonight?” Billie asked as Ivan escorted them down a long hallway and into a dimly lit meeting space. Papers were strewn over the top of the large table along with several mugs.
“Sorry for the mess. Brodie and I were working here earlier,” Ivan said as he gathered up the papers. Eli noticed the lines of words and musical notes. Holy shit, Wayward Lane’s next hit single might be lying in that pile of paper.
“And to answer your question, tonight it’s just me, Brodie, and the band’s PR rep, Hammond Vicks. The rest of the guys are recording, so you’ll meet them next time. The tour is only two months away, so we need to get our asses in gear.”
Billie and Eli sat at one end of the table and Ivan the other. The door opened and Eli had to muster up all his security training to remain impassive at the sight of his favorite singer. Brodie James, lead vocals of the latest and greatest band in the U.S., sauntered into the room with a cocky swagger, like he owned the place. Which he probably did. Tall and broad, in ripped black jeans, a purple t-shirt, and neon green running shoes, Brodie looked casual and relaxed. His black hair was cropped, with an intricate design shaved into the sides. He wore his trademark eyeliner, which made his hazel eyes pop. A second man followed Brodie into the room. This must be the PR rep Ivan mentioned. The man had a pinched expression on his sullen face that brought the vibe of the room down a few notches. Eli noted how the man’s eyes assessed then dismissed him. That was nothing new.
Ivan stood up and made the introductions. “This is Billie Rourke, the fashion designer, and Eli Morgan, from Spartan Security. Billie, Eli, meet our lead singer, Brodie James, and our public relations rep, Hammond Vicks.”
Handshakes were made all around.
“You’re quite the cutie,” Brodie murmured as he held onto Billie’s hand and blatantly perused his body. Eli’s protective instinct took over, and he glared at the rock star, who glanced at him and winked.
“I know, but thank you anyway,” Billie replied with a quick grin. Brodie barked out a laugh, releasing Billie’s hand and grabbing a seat beside Ivan.
“How about when we’re done here, you and I go grab a drink?”
Billie shook his head. “No thank you. This job is too important to me to screw it up by screwing around. Pardon my language, but I think we need to set clear boundaries right now.”
“Ignore Brodie’s antics,” Ivan replied. “He flirts with anything that has a pulse.” Ivan glared at the lead singer, who was now staring at him in return.
“I wouldn’t have to if I had your complete attention,” Brodie replied with a sneer as he leaned in closer to Ivan.
“I cater to you 24/7. How is that not attentive?”
“You’ve always got your clothes on.” Brodie’s smart-ass reply caused everyone but the PR rep to chuckle. The atmosphere shifted as Eli watched the intense stare-down continue between the provocative rock star and his older manager.
“Enough adolescent humor. Let’s get down to business.” Ivan grumbled.
“Yes, sir,” Brodie replied and licked his lips.
Fuck, this was more entertaining than Eli anticipated.
“See? I can behave.” Brodie paused as he leaned back and continued to eye fuck the manager. “I just need your strong hand to guide me. Us temperamental artists need stroking on the regular or we get cranky. I mean, my ego needs stroking.”
Ivan’s face reddened and Eli suddenly felt like aninterloper in a very private conversation.
“Are you done?” Ivan asked Brodie as he rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, tugging the ends. Poor Ivan had his hands full dealing with smart-mouthed Brodie.
“No, Van. I could go all fucking night.”