Page 81 of Not Another Love Song

“Oh, nonsense,” Mr. Lorenz said, waving his hand. “You know the studios are open to any of my clients.” His eyes turned on her. “But Miss Jackson…is not a client yet.”

Gwen blinked at him, feeling a shiver run down her arms. Yet.

“Like I said, I can pay.” Alex’s voice was firm.

Mr. Lorenz walked around his desk, taking his seat again. “I know you can. But I’m just thinking of the bigger picture here.” He settled in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. There was a glare on his thin glasses. “If you’re going into the studio to record for something outside of the Roses, it should push your career forward, Xander.”

Alex’s fingers tapped on the arm of his chair. “They’re just demos—”

“I’ve reached out to Hilary Hahn,” Mr. Lorenz said.

Gwen’s eyes widened, and she almost whipped around in her chair to check if her idol was standing in this very room. Alex was very still next to her, and it took everything in her to keep from looking at him.

“She’s very interested in working with you on a duet,” he continued. “Her next album is coming out this spring. We could push for the track to be included.”

Gwen could feel her heart hammering. That would be amazing exposure for Alex. Not to mention the money he could get as composer and performer on an album that size.

And Hilary Hahn playing the violin part on Fugue No. 1 would be magic—

“This duet is with Gwen. I won’t be playing it with anyone else.”

Gwen looked at Alex. His jaw was set, tendons twitching along his neck. Why was he being so stubborn about this?

“You should consider it,” she said to him. “That’s a great move for your career.”

“Listen to your girlfriend, Xander—”

“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my collaborator,” Alex hissed. She felt the words slice at her.

Silence stretched over the room, and Gwen felt like something had disappeared, leaving her hollow. Her face heated, but she didn’t dare look at Alex. She kept her eyes glued to Lorenz as he smiled slowly.

“Apologies.” He shrugged. “I made assumptions.”

So had I, Gwen thought. She quickly thought back over the past week of sex and food and music, and she had the sudden twisting realization that perhaps it didn’t mean anything more than that.

Alex was quiet next to her, scarcely breathing.

“Look,” Lorenz said, leaning forward on his desk, “if Gwen is interested in furthering her career with solo engagements and creating a brand for herself, then she and I can discuss signing a contract of representation. If not, then no—you will not be recording together at my studios.”

Gwen was just wrapping her mind around what kind of brand could be created for her when Alex said, “Gwen, will you excuse us?”

Her skin chilled as she glanced at him, his eyes locked on Lorenz. She nodded and stood on shaking legs. “It was great to see you again, Mr. Lorenz.”

“Leave your email address with Hunter at the front desk. I’ll send a sample contract for you to look over if you’re interested.”

His lips tugged in a grin, but his gaze was on Alex, who was curling his fingers over the arm of his chair.

She excused herself, pulling the door shut behind her. The hallway seemed to swim before her as she walked past the Grammy Awards and platinum albums out to the lobby. Turning her thoughts to Lorenz’s offer of representation helped distract her from the other, more painful thing.

Alex didn’t seem eager for Gwen to sign with Lorenz, and neither had Nathan. He’d told her to tear up his business card.

But Gwen couldn’t help but think about what Lorenz had just offered—solo engagements and branding. Despite her pride and enjoyment with the Pops, Gwen couldn’t ignore the desire to be a solo artist. A true equal to Hilary Hahn, Sarah Chang, and Lindsey Stirling. Lorenz could do that. That’s what he’d done with Alex, after all.

Reaching the lobby, her steps halted, and she shook her head. Lorenz might have turned Alex into a star, but along the way he’d lost his name, his family, and even himself. Did she want to run the risk of that happening to her as well?

The dark-haired boy behind the reception desk didn’t even look up at her, typing away on his phone as she stood dumbly in front of him.

What am I doing here? The thought struck her between the eyes. If she wasn’t a client, and she wasn’t waiting for her boyfriend—

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