Page 17 of Saving the Rockstar

His eyes met mine briefly over the fan's shoulder. Without thinking, I stepped forward, placing a firm hand on the guy's elbow.

"Asher appreciates the support," I said coolly. "But like he said, he's got a lot on his plate. I'm sure you understand."

I let a level of steel seep into my tone. A warning. The message was clear - back off.

The fan glanced between us, something knowing in his gaze. "Right. Of course. Well, it was great to meet you, Asher."He flashed one last hopeful smile before I steered him away from the table.

When I turned back, Asher was watching me with an unreadable expression. "My hero," he murmured, just low enough for me to hear.

I felt heat prickle up the back of my neck. "Just doing my job."

But I knew it was more than that. The tightness in my chest, the sudden urge to drag Asher away from all those covetous eyes... it wasn't strictly professional. Somewhere along the way, my feelings for Asher had shifted, grown into something new and terrifying. Something I wasn't sure I was ready to face.

In the following days, I caught myself watching Asher with new awareness. Noticing the way his hips moved as he walked. The elegant taper of his fingers wrapped around a microphone. The intoxicating scent of his cologne when he brushed past me.

It was like a dam had broken inside me, letting loose a flood of confusing, exhilarating want. I'd never felt this way about a man before. Never even let myself entertain the possibility. But now, with Asher, I couldn't seem to shove those feelings back in their box.

Late at night, lying in another anonymous hotel room, I stared at the ceiling and tried to untangle the snarl of my own desires. Was I gay? Bisexual? Something else entirely? The labels seemed ill-fitting, too simplistic to encompass the complexity of what I felt for Asher.

All I knew was that I craved his presence like a drug. That his smile made my heart trip over itself. That the trust he placedin me, letting me see behind his carefully constructed walls, was both a gift and a torment.

I was attracted to Asher. And it scared the hell out of me. Because the one thing I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was that I could never act on it. He was my client. My responsibility. And I had to be a professional. I had to keep him safe, even from myself.

No matter how much it felt like ripping out my own heart.

Chapter 6: Asher

The dull roar of the crowd faded to white noise as I scrawled my name across what felt like the thousandth glossy headshot, my fingers cramping around the Sharpie. It was the same song and dance at every one of these things - grin, sign, pose for a quick selfie, rinse and repeat.

The edges of my smile was now tight as I reached for the next item to autograph. The face smiling up at me from the proffered photo was familiar. Too familiar, with a sickening jolt of recognition slamming through me.

No. No, it couldn't be...

"Hello, Asher," the man purred, and my head snapped up so fast I felt something crack in my neck. "It's been a while."

Carter.

He looked exactly as I remembered, all slick charm and calculated ease in a crisp Armani suit, not a silvered hair out of place. But there was a hardness in the glacial blue of his eyes, a cruel twist to the smile that never quite reached them. The same expression he'd worn every time he'd cornered me in the studio, every vicious little cutting remark disguised as professional critique.

My heart slammed against my ribcage like a caged bird, the air suddenly too thick to pull into my lungs. I could feel the old panic rising, clawing at the back of my throat, the visceral flight response that had been trained out of me through gritted teeth and white knuckles every time he'd dressed me down in front of the techs.

Dimly, through the high-pitched whine building in my ears, I registered the solid wall of heat at my back. Jared, movingcloser, his presence a grounding weight that kept me from floating off. I wanted to sag into it, to let him anchor me, but I couldn't show that kind of weakness.

Not here. Not in front of him.

"Carter," I managed, and if my voice shook a little, I prayed he would chalk it up to surprise of seeing a ghost from my past materializing in front of me. "This is unexpected."

"Well, I heard my golden boy was in town, and I just couldn't resist dropping by to pay my respects." His smile widened a fraction, showing a hint of teeth. "You've done well for yourself, Ash. Diamond-certified debutanda world tour. I like to think I can take a little credit for that. For molding you into the star I always knew you could be."

Molded. Like I was a piece of clay for him to shape as he saw fit, something to be squeezed and trimmed and forced into unnatural contortions. The phantom sense memory of his hands on me, pushing and prodding and bruising, made my skin crawl.

I saw Jared shift out of the corner of my eye, his body angling subtly between me and Carter, and I felt a rush of gratitude.

Carter, of course, ignored him completely, his attention laser-focused on me. "I worried you'd gone a bit soft for a while there, lost your edge," he continued, looking me up and down. "Especially after that unfortunate littleincidentin the studio. When you ran off to lick your wounds like a sulky child. But I have to say, this new scandal of yours?" He made a low, approving noise in his throat. "Inspired. Nothing like a bit of controversy to get people talking."

His eyes glittered, cold and pitiless, and I couldn't suppress the shudder that rolled through me. It was the same look he'd had that day, when he'd ripped into me in front of halfthe label for daring to question one of his production choices. When he'd called me a talentless hack who'd be nothing without him, a pathetic charity case he'd elevated out of pity.

When he'd pulled me aside later, all tender concern and fake apologies, telling me how much he believed in me even as his fingertips pressed bruises into my hips. How he only pushed me because he knew I could take it. Because I was special. Because I was his.

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