Page 43 of Steal My Breath Away

“Just fine?” Ace repeated, a playful glint in his eyes. He knew he looked more than fine; he looked breathtaking. His shirt hugged his toned frame perfectly, emphasizing the definition of his muscles, and his jacket added a touch of sophistication to his rugged appearance. He looked every bit the part of the charming and capable bodyguard boyfriend.

“You know you look impressive,” I said. “And that’s all you’ll get. I don’t want to inflate your already giant ego.”

I watched him in the mirror as he came up behind me and slid one arm around my waist, his hand pressed firmly against my belly. He brushed my hair back and pressed a kiss to the sensitive dip between my neck and my shoulder blade. “That’s not the only giant thing—”

“Ace!” I knew I should push him away. I had less than a minute to get to the bar. But we looked so good together—him in his suit with his arm around my waist, and me in my sparkly dress, my head tipped to the side as he feathered kisses along the column of my throat.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I don’t want to share you,” he whispered in my ear. “Your hot-girl vibe is definitely working.”

“Ace… we can’t. Not again.” My voice came out in a throaty whisper as desire curled through my body and settled between my legs.

“We can.” He pulled me tight against him and I could feel the ridge of his erection against my ass. “Last weekend was—”

“It was great,” I said, cutting him off. “Really great. We’ve always had chemistry, and we had a great night, but that doesn’t mean everything’s okay now. You left me, Ace. Just like everyone leaves me. And I’m not just talking about four years ago… I’m talking about high school, when you were so cold with me. I felt like I’d lost my best friend, and it hurt even more because I’dalways thought we’d be together. I never realized that you didn’t feel the same way or that I was the last person you’d want to be with. And now, here we are still carrying that baggage. I can handle a hookup but I can’t risk getting close to you.”

I felt him shudder behind me and a maelstrom of emotions ran quickly over his face. “You’ve got it wrong. That wasn’t how I—”

“Haley! Where the fuck are you?” Ryan’s shout echoed from the hallway, and I pulled away, grateful for the chance to put some distance between us.

Ace escorted me out of the changing room, pausing at the door to check the hallway before he let me walk through.

“We’ve got a couple of Cubs here tonight,” Ryan said when I tapped in at the bar. “Their drinks should be ready. I expect a little gratitude. I could have given that section to Cheryl before she left, but I saved it for you.” He touched his cheek, expecting a kiss, and my mouth soured. After it became clear that management wasn’t going to do anything more than give him a slap on the wrist for his bad behavior, he’d become even more bold.

Ace made a warning sound, low in his throat, and I could feel his tension rising as he observed the interaction. Like Matt, his protective instincts had always been close to the surface. Without a word, he stepped slightly closer, subtly positioning himself between Ryan and me.

I could see things going bad very quickly, so I blew Ryan a kiss and turned away, weaving through the colorful chairs and couches to the service bar. Ace took a seat at the end of the bar where he had a good view of the entire rooftop, and for the next hour he watched and sipped his soda while I mingled with customers and served drinks.

By ten o’clock the bar was heaving. Ryan had called in two more servers, one of whom took over for me when I went on stage. I felt the familiar drumroll of my heart, the adrenaline rush that always hit the moment I picked up my guitar. I started with a cover of Radiohead’s “Fake Plastic Trees” and then followed itwith some of my best upbeat covers, drawing in the energy of the Friday-night crowd. I was hyperaware of Ace watching me from the bar, the smile on his lips, the slight nod of his head. I ended with my cover of Vance Joy’s “This Mess Is Mine,” a song about the messiness of relationships and what they mean. Ace’s eyes never left mine.

“You killed it up there.” Ryan put a hand around my waist and kissed my cheek. “Lots of happy, thirsty customers. That’s what I like to see.”

When I returned to the bar, Ace was deep in conversation with a dark-haired man in his late thirties, dressed in a T-shirt and blazer. He immediately stopped talking and introduced me to Stefan Foucault, an A&R executive with Atlantic Records.

For a long moment, I couldn’t breathe. Artists and Repertoire, A&R for short, was the division of a record label responsible for scouting new talent.

“Your cover of ‘Fake Plastic Trees’ was exceptional,” Stefan said. “I felt like I was rediscovering the lyrics as if hearing them for the first time. You’ve got one hell of a voice and an incredible stage presence. Where can I hear more?”

I couldn’t have smiled any wider. “I’ve uploaded all my tracks online.” I handed him one of the cards Aditi had designed for me. She had managed to capture the essence of my musical style with a bold font and a simple elegant colorful design.

“Do you have any original music?” Stefan asked.

“I’ve written and arranged a few songs, but I never thought they were good enough to upload.”

Stefan handed me his card. “If you do get the courage to put them out there, let me know and I’ll have a listen. I think you’ve got real talent, but what’s missing from your music is that raw emotion and personal connection that can transform a song into an unforgettable, emotionally charged performance. The difference between a good cover and a great one is the ability to connect with the emotions of the song, and that’s not easy to do. I feel like you’re holding back, keeping all that emotion containedlike a dam holds back water. But if you were to sing your own music, give usyourstory, your raw emotion, let it go and really feel the music, I think the full power of your voice will blow everyone away, and I would sign you in a heartbeat.”

I managed to stammer out a thank-you and didn’t embarrass myself in the next few minutes as we chatted about music and the state of the industry. I was stunned, shocked, disappointed, and elated at the same time. He liked me but wasn’t going to sign me. He saw my potential and wanted more.

“Thanks for coming.” Ace stood and shook his hand after Stefan indicated he had to leave.

“Anything for Jessica.” Stefan smiled. “Tell her I’ll see her at next year’s Academy Awards, and this time I expect to see her with a gold statue in her hand. I’ve heard good things aboutHeartfelt. The early buzz is that she’s going to be an Oscar contender.”

“I’ll pass the message along.”

I waited until Stefan was out of earshot before I grabbed Ace’s arm. “You know him?”

Ace shrugged. “I know someone who knows him.”

“And you asked him to come here? To see me?” My voice rose to a squeak. “And he came?”

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