Page 13 of You Rock My World
I clench the pencil in my hand as I write:
No help, hostile divorce.
Why is it hostile? She didn’t want it to end? Did he cheat? No, he wouldn’t do that. I feel ashamed just for having had the thought. My personal feelings are too tangled up in this. And while my professional armor hasn’t cracked yet, it’s been dented. It’s as if someone repeatedly struck me with a morning star mace spiked in messy emotions that I’m not qualified to deal with or strong enough to repel. Where do I get a bigger shield?
This isn’t just another job challenge, it’s a war, and I’m on the front lines without a weapon or a plan.
Dorian speaks up. “Missy and I had drafted a statement, but it needs work. It’s not polished yet.”
I force myself to meet his gaze. His blue irises churn with so much I can’t decipher, and it feels intrusive to pry.
“I should have the draft in your file, then,” I say quickly, tearing my eyes away. “I’ll refine it and give you a few options.”
But Dorian shakes his head, surprising me. “Nah. Missy and I used to work through this shit together. Stay for lunch, and I’ll bring you up to speed on everything.”
Can I even say no? Nadine made it clear I’m at his complete disposal. So apparently, now I’m having meals with Dorian like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
The meeting wraps up while I’m still processing. As the team filters out, I gather my things, convincing myself that it’s just a business lunch.
Dorian waits for me by the door, guiding me toward the kitchen with an easy stride. “I know the last meal we shared will be hard to top,” he says, smirking as he gestures to my bag.
“Are you mocking my vending-machine purse?” I retort, my tone automatically familiar.
“I’d never… but my chef should have something ready soon.”
I study him for a beat, a suspicion growing that this lunch wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment invitation. Dorian leads me to a table by the pool under the shade of a giant umbrella. He pulls a chair out for me, and I sit, feeling like I’m having an out-of-body experience.
As our plates are served, Dorian leans forward, his eyes locking with mine. “Tell me what you need to know.”
I dry my palms against my thighs. He’s giving me full access, and I won’t be able to keep my interest 100 percent professional—not even 5 percent, I fear. I want to learn everything about him. I can finally explore his relationship without feeling like a stake is being driven through my heart. Even if I shouldn’t.
My head is caught between two sledgehammers, cobbling me with opposite messages: Dorian is single. And: Dorian is a client.
Finally available. But more forbidden than ever.
I’m still going to ask everything, because how can I not when he’s sitting across from me like an open book that dares me to turn a new page?
8
DORIAN
One Year Ago
“Falling From the Same Sky.”
Of all the songs Josie could’ve picked, she chose that one. A track almost nobody knows exists. It’s never been on streaming platforms, it’s not even included in the standard version of my third album. Only 2,000 copies of the special edition were ever made, and she has one.
She listened to it andlovedit. The one song I almost didn’t release. Writing it felt like prying open my rib cage and letting the world see every jagged edge inside. Even now, thinking about the lyrics is similar to pressing on a bruise I thought had faded.
I meet her gaze, my throat closing around a question I’m not ready to ask. “Why that song?”
It comes out sharper than I meant, like an accusation, as if she owed me an explanation.
Josie hesitates. “Because it’s about loss.”
Her answer is a clean hit to the throat; it blocks the air in my windpipe and leaves me speechless. The lyrics were never explicitly about grief—they’re abstract, layered in metaphor and symbolism. But I wrote that song after my mother died, each line ripped from a place too painful to revisit. Yet somehow, Josie saw through the veil. She understood.
“I listen to it whenever I need to ugly cry.” She says it so matter-of-factly, like she’s reminding me to water the plants. This is what sets Josie apart—even when discussing heavy topics, she makes me laugh.
