Page 19 of Living on the Edge

Or maybe it’s my own shit, since I’m hiding something, and I don’t know how much Sasha knows. The background check was done because of our potential proximity to the royal family, and Sasha is the stepdaughter of a king. They never brought it up, though, so I’ve let it ride for my own comfort. Probably a mistake, but it’s too late to second guess that decision.

“I’ll check in with her regularly and make sure she understands that if her intention is to write a click bait piece, we’ll send her packing.”

“All right. Thanks.”

We talk for another minute and then disconnect.

I wander down to the restaurant in search of breakfast and find Tate there waiting at the omelet bar.

“Who pissed in your cereal?” Tate asks when he sees me.

“I don’t like journalists,” I grunt.

He laughs. “You mean the hot redhead currently on tour with us?”

“Especially her.”

The fucker grins. “So you want to sleep with her.”

“What are you talking about? I’m worried about what she’s going to say about us.”

He gazes across the restaurant and shrugs. “I don’t know—Jonny seems to like her. They’re having breakfast together.”

Of course she’s talking to Jonny—he’s the band’s attention whore. He’s also charming, funny, and a great conversationalist. Good-looking too. As long as he doesn’t have his tongue down someone’s throat, he does a great interview.

Better him than me.

“You’d better behave,” Tate mutters, kicking my foot. “Be nice.”

I have no intention of beingnotnice, but I won’t be nice either. She’ll have to settle for somewhere in the middle. Or maybe I’m the one who’ll have to settle. She doesn’t seem to be thinking about me at all.

I place my order and then sit at a table for two with Tate. I find her in my peripheral vision and?—

Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

If it were anyone else, I’d have slept with her already and gotten it out of my system.

But last night’s conversation left a bad taste in my mouth.

Partly because I genuinely think she’s up to something, but also because I didn’t have to turn it into a confrontation. I could have just played it cool, kept my cards close to the vest and let things play out. Instead, I lost my temper.

Now I’ve alienated her and that won’t be good for either of us.

I should apologize.

I just don’t know what I would apologize for.

For being rude even though I bought her dinner?

For calling her out on her own statements?

For wanting to sleep with her?

“You want coffee?” Tate asks me.

“I’ll get it, but thanks.” I stand up and look in the direction where Ryleigh and Jonny are sitting. I have to pass them to get to the coffee station.

I can be polite, right?

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