Torn (The Fosters of New York 3)

There's only one woman I want to see today. Unfortunately, I had to say goodbye to her just now on the sidewalk outside her studio.

I kissed her there, with people brushing past us, in a hurry to get to wherever it is they need to go. I wrapped her in my arms, wishing I could follow her up to her studio and sit in the corner while she takes pictures of whoever hired her for the day.

Back at her apartment, I'd watched her dress. She knew my eyes were glued to her the entire time but she didn't miss a beat. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, applied some mascara and lipstick and dressed in a modest, light blue dress that was anything but simple on her.

She was stunning, so fucking stunning that I wanted to stand in the doorway of her place and block her from leaving. I never wanted to walk out of there. My body ached to have her again.

I told her I'd call her. The doubt she felt was written all over her face. She thought it was a one night deal. She seriously thought I could fuck her once and walk away. I don't know how a man could do that. I need another taste soon, and then another.

I cross the street as I walk towards my building. I have to change my clothes, pull myself together and somehow have a business lunch with my manager.

She called when I was at Falon's, demanding that we talk about the European dates I cancelled. I can't think business right now. I can't even think about my fucked up family. All I want to think abo

ut is Falon and when I can see her again.

***

"You don't get to decide those things, Asher." She taps her fingers over her phone's screen. "This isn't just about you."

"I'm Asher Foster," I say it just the way it sounds, laced with arrogance. "I decide when I perform."

She puts her phone down an audible thud. "We signed contracts. Those contracts have provisions if you don't show."

"I get that." I lean back, crossing my legs at the knee.

I didn't want to meet in this restaurant. I would have been happy to have this conversation in my apartment but Dita, my manager, insisted we meet in public. I know what that's about. It's not her love for the sea scallops at Axel NY. It's the handful of paparazzi that hang out across the street, waiting to snap the picture of anyone even remotely notable who walks in or out of this place.

Dita is the first to shove me in front of a camera if it means I'll get more coverage in the media. She lives and breathes by the notion that no publicity is bad publicity. She's a fucking fantastic manager, but we butt heads. I wouldn't trade her for anyone else at this point. The woman knows her stuff.

"You think that if we pay the fines for backing out that everything is great." She snatches her phone from the table before swiping her finger across the screen again. "You're going to get a reputation for being a flake. Is that what you want?"

A flake? What the fuck is her problem?

"I backed out of two dates for small venues in Europe, Dita. If we're going to be blunt they were test runs for the real deal. We all considered them dress rehearsals for the tour." I glance at the menu. "This isn't going to make or break my career. We'll reschedule. They'll still get their shows."

She huffs because she can't possibly argue the point. I'm right. I know it. I'll get our social media manager to release a twenty second clip of me playing my new, and still unreleased, song in the recording studio and that will shift everyone's focus from the postponed dates. It's simple.

"I want your family in Europe for the kick off of the world tour."

"No," I say firmly. "That's not going to happen."

"Why not?" She volleys back without even raising her gaze from her phone. "It's a great opportunity to showcase your family bond, Asher. We'll snap a few pictures after the show and they'll go viral. You know how your fans love the Foster family posts."

"My brothers are busy," I lie. "They don't have time to go to Paris for that. It's out of the question."

"I just emailed both of them." She waves her phone in the air, the brightly lit screen dancing in front of me. "Once they confirm, we're all set. Your folks already agreed to be there. I asked them both weeks ago."

I scratch the side of my head just as the server approaches us. "It's my decision whether they're there or not, Dita. You can't keep going behind my back to set up shit like this."

"What's your problem today?" She motions for the server to stay even though he's about to turn and walk the other way. "They're your family, Asher. Why the hell wouldn't you want them there?"

Even though it's a rhetorical question, I answer it. I don't care if she's ready to order her overpriced lunch. I'm the one paying for this fucking farce anyways. "I'm telling them not to come. That's final."

She laughs. "Whatever problem you have with them, fix it now. They want to be there, Asher. That night is as important to them as it is to you. They're your family."

CHAPTER 23

Falon