Page 53 of You Rock My World
Josie’s fingers grip the armrests, knuckles whitening. “Dorian, if you don’t back up…”
I lean in until my forehead touches hers, the space between us a whisper of heat. “If I don’t back up, what, Josie? You’ll tell me the rules again? Or are you afraid you’ll break them?”
Her breath hitches, and I recognize the conflict in her eyes, the push and pull between caution and desire. She doesn’t answer, but the way her fingers tremble against the chair says everything.
I expect her to push me back. Instead, she surprises me yet again by moving her head to the side until her mouth is a breath from my ear. “You should put your shirt back on before I tell you how many times I dreamed of tracing your tattoos, not just with my fingers, but with my tongue, too.”
I choke on the next breath and pull away coughing. “Are you trying to kill me?” I clutch my chest. “I just lost ten years of life.”
Josie smirks, leaning back in her chair, the picture of innocence. “What? I’m following the rules. Talking is allowed, remember?” She pats my shoulder and offers me a glass of water.
I grab it and take a long sip to cool the fire she’s stoked. Setting the glass down, I raise a hand in mock-surrender. “Truce. You win. I’ll put my shirt on.”
Her grin is triumphant, but her eyes flicker with disappointment as I reach for the T-shirt.
“Well, that’s no fun,” she quips.
“Right, it’s self-preservation.” I pull the shirt on. “Ready for dessert?”
Josie readjusts her chair. “After this, it’d better have a lot of decadent chocolate in it.”
I stand. “Definitely going to fire the chef if it doesn’t.”
Josie opens her mouth to say something when a slow clapping sound cuts through the quiet of the dark garden. Both our heads snap in the direction of the noise. I peer into the darkness, stretching my neck as I scan the lawn, my muscles tensing. My brain immediately leaps to the worst scenario: a fan or a stalker has somehow breached my security. I fear the night is about to turn ugly and do the exact opposite of what I wanted to show Josie—that I can have normal moments.
My anxiety spikes as the sound grows louder. Josie’s gaze darts between me and the shadowy edges of the garden. She yelps as a human shape takes form, confirming my worst fears. The home invader is lurching forward, listing like a zombie straight out of a horror movie. I put myself between the figure and Josie, pulling out my phone and pressing on the emergency app to alert my security team.
The silhouette keeps approaching until it comes into the circle of light on the porch, and Billie Rae emerges like a ghost straight from my past. Except she’s real, flesh and bones, her features set in a mask of snarling fury. I suppress a groan in my throat, thinking I would’ve rather taken on an army of rabid zombies instead of having to deal with my ex-wife while on a date with my girlfriend.
28
JOSIE
At first, the figure emerging from the shadows is a blur, an indistinct outline against the backdrop of the night. But as it reaches the circle of light, recognition punches the breath out of my lungs. It’s Billie Rae. My inner fangirl flares to life, and I have to physically stop myself from blurting out something mortifying like,I loved your latest album!This isn’t a glamorous meet-and-greet. I’m not facing one of my favorite singers, she’s Dorian’s ex-wife. The woman who put him through so much, who hurt him so deeply. And she’s pissed. If looks could kill, we’d already be making our way to the afterlife.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Billie Rae sneers, her brown eyes flashing with anger as they land on me then Dorian. I swallow against my heart hammering in my throat. “So much for not having a side piece, uh, Dorian?”
He steps forward, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Josie and I only work together.”
There are a million reasons he must say this. The chief one that I asked him not to make our relationship public. But it still stings to be described as a mere professional connection in front of the woman he wrote countless love songs about.
“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” Billie slurs, listing to the side and grabbing onto one of the pool chaises for support. She’s visibly intoxicated. With what, it’s hard to say, but Dorian wasn’t exaggerating her problem. Still, I also can’t help noticing how beautiful she is. His ex is jaw-dropping in a way I’ll never be.
“You always lay out fairy lights for your ‘employees,’ Dorian?” She snickers. “Must be real tough business.”
A muscle twitches in Dorian’s jaw. “What are you doing here, Billie? How did you even get in?”
She tosses her blue-streaked blonde hair over her shoulder. “Oh, I have my ways. You should know that by now.”
Every instinct tells me to go to Dorian, touch him, comfort him, but I’m afraid I’m only going to make things worse if I do, so I stay put in my chair.
The silence between them is thick enough to choke on. On Dorian’s face, restraint is battling with frustration. Billie glares at her ex-husband and then fixates on me.
“Isn’t she too plain for you, babe? Since when have you gone vanilla?”
Dorian squeezes his fists tighter and then releases them only to squeeze again, the movement causes the tattoos on his arms to move, the designs coming to life. “Watch it, Billie,” he snaps. “You don’t get to come here and insult?—”
“Everything okay here, sir?” We’re interrupted by one of Dorian’s bodyguards stepping into the garden and placing himself between us and Billie Rae.
