Page 88 of One More Bad Boy

My heart tightened. “I didn't write that song.”

“What? Then who?”

My fingers clutched at the hem of my dress. “Bach. He—”

“Amina!” Bach burst into the hallway. The wildness in his green eyes locked me to the floor. I couldn't move as he grabbed my shoulders. I was light as a cloud in his grip. If he let go, I'd float up and away and never come back down.

“Amina,” he said again, “Are you okay?” He noticed Sherman and pulled me closer.

“I'm fine. I'm not even in trouble.”

He shook his head at me. “Why are you here? Farrah gave you my letter, you know you didn't have to try and win an award.”

“Did you really think after all my hard work, I'd give up a chance at showing the world what I'm made of?” I was going to say more. I had a whole speech rotating through my brain that I'd arranged last night in the hotel I'd slept in. But when I saw the concern in his eyes, the pure love spilling over, I forgot how to form words. Stretching up, I kissed him with enough enthusiasm that he stumbled off balance.

We came apart, our foreheads touching. “Did you like it?” I whispered. “The song?”

His smile heated me up. “It was incredible.”

“It really was,” Sherman said.

I'd managed to forget about him for a second. Pulling away from Bach, I kept one hand in his as I glared at Sherman. “Why are you still here?”

“Because I'm dying to work with you, Amina. I haven't known an artist with your potential since Laurence.”

I gave a half-hearted laugh. “You stole Beats and Blast from the man I love. I'm not going to abandon him for you.”

Bach's grip tightened on mine, commanding me to look into his surprised face. “Youloveme?”

His shock was delightfully attractive. “If you try and tell me you didn't know that, I'm going to be pretty pissed off at—” Bach shut me up with a new kiss. I went limp as he tilted me in a back-bend.

I gasped for air when he straightened me up and let me go. “I wanted to tell you I loved you in Vegas,” he said. His eyes were burning with lust... with an energy that he now knew wasn't unrequited. “You stopped me. Those words were slowly dissolving me from the inside out, so to finally get to say them, it's like nothing I've ever experienced.”

Sherman made a polite sound. I glanced at him, wishing he'd just leave already. “I don't care if Bach doesn't have a record company anymore. I'm choosing him over you. I'll always choose him, every time.”

Sherman hesitated. “What if we could both get what we wanted?”

“How is that possible?” Bach asked.

“I never wanted to take Beats and Blast from you,” Sherman said. “Your father... Laurence wasn't just a client, he was one of my closest friends. When he left everything to you, I was shocked.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Bach scoffed.

“Let me finish, please.” Sherman adjusted the front of his jacket. I had a feeling that this conversation was difficult for him. “Laurence had a sensitive soul. I watched you grow up for years and was sure you didn't. Until tonight. When she sang your song.”

Bach's forehead crinkled. “That's it? You liked my lyrics, and now I'm supposed to forgive you for thinking I was a waste of space this whole time?”

“Bach, I'm trying to say I'm sorry. I misunderstood what you were capable of.”

“That wasn't why we didn't get along,” he growled. “You hated me because you thought I didn't respect my father enough. And I hated you... because deep down, I knew you were right.”

My heart shrank. “Bach, no.”

He looked at me. I could see the pain bloom in his emerald eyes. “I told you, Sherman was right. I never believed in my dad, not until he didn't need my support because he'd proven me wrong. I sank his company. Sherman is better off with it.”

“I'm not suggesting I give it back to you,” Sherman said. He offered his hand. “I'm asking for you to workwithme. Become my partner.”

Bach's grip went slack; I squeezed his fingers, unsure what to say. But then, this had nothing to do with me. This was between these two men who had a painful history.

“Why?” Bach asked, his voice brittle. “I don't get why.”

“Because I'm not going to let myself become the man I thoughtyouwere,” he said. “You didn't believe in your father, and that haunts you even now. I know that I was wrong about your drive, your talent, and your ability to care for anyone but yourself.” He softened his voice. “You're more like him than either of us guessed. Maybe we can honor his memory by believing in each other.”

I fixated on Bach's emotionless expression. Did he agree with Sherman, like I did, that he was as kind as Laurence? That he obviously cared about others and wanted them to succeed? And that no one could lead Beats and Blast like him?

Bach inhaled until his chest was at capacity. His fingers left mine, closing on Sherman's in a solid handshake. “Dad would have liked that.”

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