He wasn’t giving me a compliment, but it felt like one. Dex was being honest.
I went to bed that night in a new place with Dex’s smell all around me even though he wasn’t there.
He wasn’t there in the morning, either.
Our first night together was a sort of haunting fluke I knew I’d have to get over. Yet my body still ached in places it hadn’t before, and it was because of him.
He left me a text early the next morning—at 6 a.m. to be exact—like that was a normal time to be up.
Dex: You have a HEAT watch programmed on your nightstand for accessing most areas of the resort, including the penthouse. Use it.
Dex: Also, Penelope can cater in your dinners if you want. Send her any dietary restrictions.
It was already quite apparent he wouldn’t be eating with me, but his text drew an even bolder line.
Me: I have it handled.
I went to my rehearsals that day. I worked with my techs. I kept busy.
That night, I called Olive and ate at a resort restaurant with her, too nervous to sit around the penthouse waiting for him. Still, I was home early enough that night to see him working in his office, and although I was sure he heard me too, we didn’t talk. I holed up in my bedroom and read through a whole romance novel because I couldn’t sleep, knowing he was just a room away.
For the rest of the week, I felt my anxiety build. I had a team there now—backup singers, bandmates, dancers. The management was present, and Dimitri stopped by with Bane to confirm everything was working the way it should.
“Dex check the security for the theater?” Dimitri asked. I said I didn’t know. Olive said she’d discussed it with my management team.
So many people helping to run the show allowed for Dex and I to not communicate at all if we didn’t want to. And I didn’t think he did. He’d agreed to this sham of an engagement, but that was all it was to him. Yet having him so near without any words exchanged felt wrong, foreign, and uncomfortable.
Mitchell called to talk about my next album, told me I should talk with Dex about looking over our contracts too. “He saw the addendum regarding you associating yourself with a prominent individual. You know, regarding the engagement. So, that’s all he needs to see, don’t you think? Him seeing your past contracts with us or the one you have for the next six months really isn’t necessary. He shouldn’t ask for that.”
But of course Dex had, because he was organized, efficient, and structured. I had started to notice he was gone every morning and then home at night in his office working. At the same exact time every day.
I was surprised when the night before, he wasn’t home in his office typing away when I arrived. So, I took my time getting ready for bed, waiting to hear the door open, waiting to just feel his presence. I meandered around and realized his penthouse suite was very organized. His food was in compartments in the fridge, his toiletries lined up in the bathroom perfectly like his closet had been.
That night, I wondered where he could be that he would have gone off his structured schedule, and then I told myself I didn’t have a right to know. He lived a neat life where everything had a place, and he wouldn’t mess it up with a contract he didn’t know anything about.
Unless I pushed for it.
“Everything’s going to be changing anyway. Let’s leave the past in the past,” Mitchell summed up.
I sighed. I wanted that too. I didn’t want Dex to know why I’d given him up. My father had squandered so much of our money, and I’d never been strong enough to tell him how much that hurt, that he needed to find help for his gambling problem, that he was hurting the whole family. How do you tell the parent you always wanted to make proud that they weren’t making you proud?
How did you stand up for yourself when all you wanted to do was stand with them?
I wasn’t only ashamed though that I hadn’t stood up to my father, I was ashamed that I hadn’t handled my family’s situation. My father reminded me time and time again that we kept our family issues private, that he didn’t need any help with finances, that we could handle this ourselves.
I continued to believe him. Or just hold on to hope that I could and would figure out how to take care of them on my own.
Dex didn’t need to know anything else about it.
No one did. “I’ll make sure we leave the past in the past, Mitchell.”
“Should we start looking over the contract for next year? Ezekiel stopped by and he’s got a great offer—”
“Not today.” And not ever. This was the last time I signed away my brand to anyone, but I’d hold off telling him I wasn’t resigning. “Let’s not bring attention to that with Dex right now. I don’t want him being a part of that. Do you?”
“No. No. Of course not.” Mitchell was quick to rethink it.
I ended the call with a new mission of keeping the contracts from Dex and more determination to make my career work without Trinity Enterprises.
Swimming out in open water on my own was frightening, like I’d drown and potentially take my father and mother with me. It was easier to feel invincible on my own. Yet, when I considered my family, the idea of professionally failing, drowning, or dying was much more impactful.
So, I worked hard that week, and as I finished up a vocal lesson late one evening, I looked over at Olive to ask if she wanted to eat at one of the resort’s restaurants again and have a drink too. “It’s late, but I’m feeling like I need to do something.”
Or I just needed to not be in that penthouse with him, knowing he was on the other side of a door working and not talking to me.
She looked up from her laptop where she was answering my emails and said, “God yes. Absolutely. Let’s eat at the Italian restaurant tonight.”
Dex: Press release is in two weeks. You have a PA I should inform?
Wow. Not a “hi,” “how are you,” or a “was your rehearsal good?” That was fine. I didn’t need it from him. I never had before, and I wouldn’t expect it now.
Me: Send everything to Olive. Here’s her contact info.
Dex: Great. Are you eating out?
I looked at the time and realized it was about an hour after I’d normally have walked in the door. I rolled my eyes. He didn’t care to be around me but wanted to know where I was? We hadn’t talked all week, and I sort of hated living in his space where the ghost of him was all around me. What was the point?
Me: I’m eating at the restaurant downstairs.
Then, I took a deep breath and tried to extend an olive branch by inviting him. Why couldn’t we talk and at least try to be cordial during all this?
Me: Want to come eat?
Dex: Not particularly. There are four restaurants down there. Which one are you at?
He brushed off my invitation so easily that I put my phone away without responding to avoid feeling hurt. Yet, when I tried to pay for dinner later that night, the waitress handed back my card. “Sorry. Mr. Hardy has it covered.”
“Wait. What?” I eyeballed the blonde woman who stood there in an all-black dress with a tight smile on her face.
“I can’t take your card here. Mr. Dex Hardy said you shouldn’t be paying for anything within the resort.”
“Oh, really?” I narrowed my eyes at her.
Olive squinted at her glass for half a second before she said, “We probably want another glass of champagne, then.”
“I have an extra rehearsal tomorrow, Olive,” I snickered.
“Oh, right,” She agreed with me. Yet, I suddenly felt infuriated that he’d avoided me all week just to text me, brush me off again, but then take the time to make sure my meal was paid for.
Who did he really think he was anyway?
“We’d like a whole bottle of champagne. The most expensive bottle you have.” I added, feeling a bit liberated now. It would serve him right for declining me when I was just trying to be nice.
The waitress didn’t even hesitate to rush off for it.
Olive laughed before saying, “Well, a bottle will be nice considering we have to get through all rehearsals with Frankie. We’re going to need all that champagne.” She curled her lip because Olive hated my creative director about as much as I did.
“You’re a great personal assistant.” I nodded and assessed her jokingly. “Really helping me propel my career with Trinity by drinking down here with me.”
She smiled because even if I was joking, she had to know I meant it. “Honestly, if it wasn’t for my college classes and your residency, I’d say we drink through your whole damn contract.”
I couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of me. “‘A Drunken Keelani Nuclear Bombs Her Career.’”
“Wouldn’t be the first childhood star to spiral and want out.” She shrugged. “At least we’d get you out of your hell.”
I sighed. “But then we’d have launched your PR career off a cliff.”
She looked down at her nails. “I’d find other clients. Once I finish this master’s program, hopefully, I’ll get more.” Olive was younger than me and working on her master’s degree in journalism or media management. I couldn’t remember at this point because she’d jumped around one too many times from major to major. All I knew was I’d met her at a party a few years ago and she’d been kind enough to help fix my hair, saying she went to beauty school for a year too.
I asked her to do my hair again the next night, and the rest was history. “Did I tell you that Mitchell and Ezekiel are pushing for another contract?”
“And you’re saying no. Jesus. Ezekiel.” She shivered. “I don’t know how you deal with that weaselly creep.”
She had no idea. None of my friends knew. Sometimes, being a friend meant shielding your friends from the pain your life could inflict on them.
“He’s not around much.” I glanced up and grabbed the bottle the waitress had just brought. I poured us both a generous helping of the bubbly champagne. “Anyway, I’m holding him off as long as possible. So, cheers to that, and cheers to us being here on their dime for six months.”
She clinked her glass and drank a healthy gulp. “Technically it’s your dime, Keelani. You’ve paid your dues ten times over to that record label. And I know you fought for me to come with.”
I hadn’t told Olive, but I was sure she’d gotten wind of how I insisted on bringing my own personal assistant. The fact that the record label tried to control even who was around me, including my closest friends, infuriated me. Yet, I tried my best not to become bitter about it.
Instead, I wiggled in my little black dress that I’d thrown on before we came out. The fabric was thin, but it bunched up when I sat and exposed much more of my leg than I wanted to. I pushed it down one last time and glanced around to make sure no one had seen how it rode up.
“Kee, we’re in a HEAT resort, remember?” Olive lifted a brow. “You don’t have to worry about paps. They need a pass.”
People paid hundreds of thousands to become a part of the HEAT’s exclusive empire. Everyone here wasn’t as concerned about my status, and somehow that made me breathe a bit easier. Even still. “Yeah, I don’t know. Should we leave?”
“We’re sitting in the corner of the restaurant in a very secure resort.” My friend grabbed my hand and squeezed it like she could steal away a bit of my anxiety. “Breathe, girl. We’re good here.”
“So, you want to stay out?” I still worried for her safety or anyone’s with me even more so than my own. We’d been bombarded a time or two before. “We could go back up to the suite if you want?”
“The penthouse with Dex?” She chuckled and then shook her head. “No thanks.”
My phone buzzed right then, and I murmured for her to give me a minute while I stared at the text that had come in.
Dex: When will you be home?
Was he serious? I frowned and then glared at the screen. Like he should care.
Me: I don’t know. Does it matter? You weren’t home last night when I went to sleep.
Dex: You could have texted me.
Me: I didn’t see the need to.
Dex: Where are you?
Me: I’m enjoying the company of my friends.
Dex: Are you with my brother?
Me: Seriously? Your jealousy is showing for literally no reason.
Dex: It’ll show more if you don’t answer the question.
Me: You know we’re not really engaged. I don’t answer to you.
Dex: Kee, I’m not in the mood today. I had a long day at work. Answer me.
Me: Go to sleep and stop worrying about your fake fiancée.
Dex: Won’t feel fake when I punish you for being out with my brother.
Dex: Tell me when you’re going to be home. We need to discuss the press release.
I growled at my phone, at how he thought he could command something from me so easily, how he thought this was about the press.
“Trouble in paradise?”
“He’s such an ass,” I grumbled.
“Dex is texting you?” she inquired, but I was too busy to think about her questions as I silenced my phone, consciously and deliberately not responding back.
“He thinks I’m at his damn beck-and-call because he agreed to this with me. And yet he hasn’t been around ever since we—” I stopped myself. I hadn’t told a soul about us sleeping together.
Olive’s honey-colored eyes widened. “Ever since you what?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re blushing.” She pointed to my cheeks. “Did you— Are you still—?”
“Don’t talk about it!” I shook my head at her. And then I knew—because she was such a close friend and I needed someone to confide in—that I was going to blurt out everything. So, I said, “If we talk about this—”
“Oh my fucking God, you lost your virginity to Dex Hardy and you didn’t tell me. Spill it right now.”
So, we drank champagne. Too much. And I told her all about that night.
“He’s still in love with you.”
“If that’s true, why isn’t he taking the opportunity to sleep with me and teach me everything he knows?”
“Because he’s protecting you from yourself.” She threw up her hands when I squinted in confusion. “Hello. He said he wouldn’t help you turn into a sex symbol, that your voice was better than that.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not what he meant.” And why did that make my heart ache? “Anyway, he barely talks to me. It’s just us figuring out how to exorcise each other, I think.”
“If you say so,” she singsonged. “Let’s get you back to your suite.”
I’d lost the concern I normally had when it came to people watching me. I’d had too much champagne and let go of my worries since I was with my friend. We giggled all the way up to the penthouse, and she squealed when I swiped my watch into the elevator.
“Fancy.”
“Silly.” I shrugged.
“Honestly, it’s probably necessary. You’re both big names. Take the privacy and enjoy it.” She nudged me and then wrapped her arm around my waist. “I’m happy we got here, Kee. This is going to be good for you.”
Somehow, even if Olive didn’t know everything, she knew enough to know a weight was lifting from me. “Yeah, I think so.”
“You might not share everything with me, but I know you’re struggling. You’re strong enough to get through it. You got this. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not strong enough. They don’t know the strength of a woman.”
I tried not to turn into a blubbering mess as I hugged her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I waved her on and was about to use my fingerprint to let myself into the penthouse but the door swung open before I even tried.
“You intend not to answer your fiancé when he texts you about when you’re going to be home?”
