Rock Reclaimed (Rock Revenge Trilogy 2)

“K.” She didn’t even glance back at me.

All righty then.

I took a step, then another before swallowing hard. I didn’t want to just stroll out of there and leave her thinking I wasn’t concerned how she’d be in the wake of what happened. She was putting on a brave front, but I knew she wasn’t as close to over it as she seemed. “If you ever want to talk—”

“I’m not a one-night stand sort of woman. But it’s flattering.” Her tone sounded anything but flattered.

More like disgusted.

“I wasn’t asking for sex.” I rubbed my inner forearm until I caught myself and exhaled. “If I’d wanted that, I would’ve tried a lot harder.”

“So, you don’t want that?”

“Bloody hell, woman, am I not a flesh-and-blood man with a pulse and a cock?”

“I?

??d say so, judging from some of those YouTube comments I read onl—” She broke off, but it was too late.

I grinned. “You read up on me. You looked at the videos and checked out what was being said.”

“It’s just business. I was hired to take photos,” she said quickly. “Just for work.”

“Oh, so you normally look to see what’s being said about your subjects after you take their photos? Seems like a lot of effort, but I’m sure your employer appreciates that you go the extra mile.”

“I don’t have an employer. Oh, God, get out of here, will you?”

I planted my feet. “But we were having such a nice chat—”

“Ian,” she warned. “Time to go.”

When I didn’t move, she shoved me bodily across her flat with those surprisingly strong hands of hers. I could have stood my ground, but she laughed when I gave the slightest resistance. She was still laughing as she pushed me into the loo and pulled the door shut.

I grinned as I unzipped. Damn if I didn’t like that woman.

More than I’d ever expected.

I hadn’t expected any of this.

Eight

“Your stop, pal.”

I pushed the sunglasses up on my head as I looked out the window at Ripper Records, looming over the car in the darkness. Even without being able to see the rest of the buildings at the complex from here, this one seemed gigantic.

Quite a lot for a poor London boy to take in, even on a second viewing.

And this was about to be my record company. I hoped.

“Thank you.”

“It’s twenty.” The driver looked back at me as I reached for the door handle.

Oh. Right. I wasn’t riding around in limos quite yet. But my plan to have someone at Ripper Records pay for my Uber was thwarted by the fact the receptionist’s desk wasn’t being manned by anyone at this fair hour.

“Look, mate, let me just call my—” Manager? Not yet. Friend? Certainly not. Acquaintance? Hmm. “Associate, and she’ll bring down the fare.”

“You can’t pay twenty bucks?” The guy snorted. “Though in that outfit, I can’t say I’m surprised. But the accent explains a lot.”