Treasure Me (One Night with Sole Regret 10)

“You will,” Jillian said with a smile. “It’s hard to rise in this business, especially for women and minorities—don’t let anyone convince you otherwise—but instead of fighting the establishment, use it. Use it for your gain, not theirs.”

Dawn wasn’t sure she was capable of using people to climb her ladder of success. She’d rather create her own ladder than patch together the ladders of others, but she had to admit Jillian’s advice was sound, and she was speaking from experience. She wasn’t a composer, but she was part of the Hollywood elite.

“You might think you want to reinvent the wheel here, hon, but take this opportunity. If it doesn’t work out the way you hope, you can always find a different path to the top.” Jillian touched Dawn’s bare arm, and the small action made her seem far more human and far less godlike. “You do want to rise to the top, don’t you?”

Dawn smiled. “Somehow.”

Jillian returned her smile. “Good. Now go out there and tell those men you’ll do what they want, when in reality they’ll be doing what you want.”

Was that how women became successful? Not all, Dawn realized, but utilizing other’s might make obtaining success easier, assuming she could hold her own with the men who were already at the top. She doubted she’d get far if she kept breaking into fits of giggles for no justifiable reason.

“Thanks for the advice, Jillian. I appreciate your guidance. I have to admit I was flipping out a bit.”

“That’s what they want. That’s why they didn’t tell Wes what to expect, why they scheduled this meeting when you didn’t have time to meet with us. Why they invited several people who don’t have anything to do with the movie’s score, myself included. I’d better head back, or they’ll be on to me.” Jillian squeezed her arm and offered her the signature wink that she’d likely trademarked. “You look out for yourself, hon.”

Jillian left, and Dawn stared at the back of the closed door until another woman entered the restroom and startled her out of her thoughts. She went into the stall and sat there long after she’d finished tinkling, wondering if she should follow Jillian’s advice and use this opportunity as a shortcut to her future or if she was even strong and smart enough to do so. When she finally left the restroom—the entire table must be wondering what she was giving birth to in there that would take so long—Pierre was milling about just outside the door.

“I was about to enter and see if you’d drowned yourself.”

She chuckled. “I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. Long time, no see, Teach.” She lifted her arms to hug him, thought better of it and started to lower them again, but he closed the gap between them, drawing her against him for a tight squeeze.

“You’ve grown into such a lovely woman, precious one.”

“Having second thoughts about turning me down now that I’ve grown into my awkwardly long limbs?”

He caught her face between his palms and kissed the tip of her nose. “You do know I’m gay, right?”

Dawn’s face fell. Pierre was gay? No, she hadn’t realized that, but then her gaydar was perpetually broken.

“Your song, ma petite, is miraculous.”

“Miraculous?” She laughed. “You mean ‘Ashes’?”

“That piece was stirring. It deserved the Grammy. This new song, what is it called?”

“‘Blue’?”

“Ah, perfect. Yes, ‘Blue.’ It grabbed me from the first note, ripped my soul from my body, stirred it into a frenzy, smoothed it like warm butter, and put it back inside me at a higher level.”

She laughed. “You always did exaggerate.”

“Non, this is no exaggeration, ma petite. This music you created, it is a gift from God.”

Dawn rolled her eyes and shook her head. Yes, it was her best work, and she knew it was good, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. She hadn’t even polished it yet.

“Are you really gay?” she blurted. “I had such a crush on you as a teen.”

“And it never made sense to me, because I’m as queer as they come.”

“Kellen will be glad to hear that,” she said.

“Please, please, join us to create the scores for this project.”

“Maybe I want to create my own score on another project.”

“Plenty of time for that, ma cherie. You’re young. Everlong and I? Not so much.”

Everlong was pushing eighty, but Pierre was not yet fifty. He had plenty of time to compose. Which reminded her . . .

“When did you start composing? Have you given up on teaching?”

“You, cherie. You inspired me to follow my true dream. You were so young yet so certain of your path. So driven despite your father’s wishes. So passionate and talented. And when you told me you didn’t really want to perform despite how much effort and love you put into every performance, that you actually wanted to write because writing was a true expression of the soul—performing but an expression of the heart, the mind and body—I couldn’t stop thinking about your words, and I followed the path you directed me toward.”

“Me? I was fifteen when I said that.” She laughed and hugged him again. “Who takes a fifteen year old seriously?”

“A man smart enough to recognize true genius.”

“I thought you’d drowned,” Wes said from several steps away.

What exactly did these guys think she did with toilets that would lead to her drowning?

“I almost did, but Pierre rescued me.”

Wes chuckled. “I actually thought you were freaking out in the bathroom. I’m glad I don’t have to go in there after you.”

“I was freaking out in the bathroom.”

“Understandable. They’re sending the contracts to my office tomorrow morning. You should have time to sign them before you catch your flight.”

Dawn took Pierre’s hand and squeezed. “I’m not yet sure I’m signing.”

Wes blinked at her. “What? You’re kidding, right? This isn’t the kind of opportunity you consider, it’s the kind you jump on.”

“Let her follow her heart,” Pierre said, lifting her hand and kissing her knuckles. He was so dreamy. He was going to make some lucky guy very happy one day. “Her heart has never steered her wrong.”

An image of Kellen flitted through her thoughts, and she smiled. She was certain that Pierre was right; her heart never steered her wrong. And while her head was ready to accept whatever crappy deal these people sent her way, her heart wanted a little longer to consider where this future might lead her.

“I’ll read them tomorrow,” Dawn promised. “I just don’t want you to promise anyone I’ll sign them.”

“You want to negotiate.” Wes’s eyes lit with excitement, and Dawn grinned at him. Nothing excited Wes more than a brutal round of contract negotiations.

“I might. Let’s see what the deal is before we make a move.”

Wes grabbed her head between his palms, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “This one,” he said. “She’s going places.”

Pierre smiled. “Hopefully at my piano bench once more. I have so missed the way she plays. I’ve been to several of her performances, but they’re never as amazing as her private recitals for one.”

And the only recitals for one in her future would be with an audience of Kellen Jamison. Those special sessions always ended with hot and heavy sex and an earth-shattering orgasm. She flushed at the direction of her thoughts. They’d been apart mere hours and already she missed him. Craved him. She wondered how his concert for thousands was going.

“I didn’t know you attended my performances,” Dawn said. “I wish you’d let me know; we could have met after the show.” God, she was lonely after shows. Her reality wasn’t anything like Kellen’s where each show was bookended with fun and shenanigans. A certain level of propriety was expected of her. She might have wine or champagne, but had never had a crowd of fans try to do something outlandish like sneak into her dressing room and wait for her naked, lubed up, and ready to roll. She’d have called

the cops if one had.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after the way you had me fired,” Pierre said.

Dawn scrunched her eyebrows together. “The way I had you fired? What do you mean? You quit. Never even said goodbye to me. I thought it was because I tried to seduce you.”

“I had no choice but to leave after you told your father I had behaved most ungentlemanly.”

Dawn shook her head. “Of course I wouldn’t tell my father that. Especially since it wasn’t true.”

“He showed me your torn dress and told me if he ever saw my face again, he’d have me tossed in prison.”

Dawn couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d been devastated when Pierre had quit offering her private lessons right after she’d thrown himself at him. There’d been no torn dress. And though he’d turned her down, he hadn’t been cruel about it. He hadn’t laughed at her for trying to be an adult when she’d been a child.

So her father had chased Pierre away. She should have guessed as much.

“I cannot believe that man!” And yet, she could. She knew how tirelessly her father worked to rule her life. She was sure there were many more instances of him trying to set her on the path he’d chosen for her even as she’d wandered as far from it as possible.

She grabbed Pierre’s arm, and stared up into his kind eyes. “I hope you believe I never accused you of any wrongdoing—and my father should be the one apologizing—but I’m sorry you got caught between us. I’m sorry he threatened you. I’m sor—”

Pierre covered her lips with two fingers. “Non.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry for believing you capable of such lies.”

“Dawn,” Wes interrupted, “we’d better get back to the table. They’ll think we’re conspiring.”

She wasn’t conspiring, she was fuming. She’d never connected with another musician the way she’d connected with Pierre. He’d understood exactly how to get the best sound from her and made her dream of creating her own music. Her own songs. He was the one who’d given her the confidence to pursue music as a career, not just as a hobby that won her pretty ribbons and trophies.

“Pierre, if I sign this deal, will we be working together or will I be with Everlong?”

“He’s fantastic, cherie. You will learn so much from him. It is he you should be excited to work with, not I.”

“I feel comfortable with you. Perhaps that’s why I thought I was in love with you. I think he’ll just make me nervous.”

“I have no doubt that he will at first. He is not easy to know, but don’t let that stop you from learning from him.”

“And how did you meet him?”

Pierre flushed and pressed a hand against her back to urge her back to the dining area. “Perhaps I’ll explain another time.”

She beamed at him. “Thank you for thinking of me for this opportunity, Pierre. Your faith in my ability took me much farther than you can imagine.”

“This is what I mean about her teaching me to be a teacher,” he said to Wes, who was following close behind them. “She says what’s on her mind. In her heart.”

“It’s called being a blabber mouth,” Dawn said, sliding into her seat. She’d missed dessert and coffee, but everyone just seemed happy to see her. I can do this, she told herself. I can make this work. I can work beside these masters and learn and grow, and it doesn’t matter if I have to share the credit for the work we create. The journey is more important.

She couldn’t wait to tell Kellen.

“We’ll need your answer by Friday,” Dr. Everlong said. “That’s when we go to Venice and get to work.”

Hold up. “Venice?”

“Wait until you hear the scope of this project, cherie. We’ll be busy for years.”

Years? “But what about Kellen?” she blurted.

“Who?”

“My boyfriend.” The man her heart told her to follow while at the same time telling her to follow Pierre to Venice. Maybe her heart wasn’t so wise after all.

Chapter Fifteen

Kellen held his phone in his hand, staring at the screen, waiting for Dawn’s call. It was after midnight in Mississippi, but just after ten on the West Coast. He wasn’t sure how long meetings with Hollywood producers took, but he’d promised himself he wouldn’t interrupt Dawn’s important dinner, no matter how much his life had turned upside down in the hours since they’d parted.

When his phone dinged with a text message, his breath caught. It was her.

When is rockstar bedtime? Are you still up?

He didn’t bother texting her back, just called. He needed to hear her reassuring voice, because no matter how cool he was playing to the guys, on the inside he was freaking out and he couldn’t even share that with Owen, because Owen had locked himself in the bathroom of their hotel room and was in there talking to Caitlyn or jacking off or slitting his wrists. Who knew?

“You will not believe the night I had,” Dawn said, her excitement and glee tangible even over the phone.

“I had quite the night myself.”

“They want me to co-write the scores for an upcoming fantasy trilogy with Dr. Andrew Everlong.”

Andrew Everlong? Even Kellen knew who he was. Dr. Everlong had come up with the mood-evoking theme music from the Space Trek movies—all nine of them. “Wow,” he said. “That’s huge! Congratulations.”

“I’m not sure I should take the job, though. I won’t be able to see you much if I do.”

There was no way in hell he was standing in the way of that kind of opportunity. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll figure out a way to make us work.”

Especially now that he was probably out of a job.

“And I’m worried that I’ll end up as a ghostwriter of sorts. I do all the work, Everlong takes all the credit.”

“So you didn’t jump on it?”

“No. I want to at least sleep on it. If I take the job, I’ll have to go to Venice next week.”

“Prague, Venice. What’s next, Rome?” He chuckled, his chest swelling with pride. She was so accomplished, yet so down to earth about it. A rare woman. He’d be an idiot to let her go, but an even bigger idiot to stand in her way.

“Maybe. Everlong wants to draw inspiration from centers of renaissance art and culture. I’d rather be inspired by you.”

Yep, a rare woman. She filled him with such hope and longing.

“So how was your show?” she asked.

“We’ll get to that in a minute,” he said. “I want you tell me everything great about this contract they’re offering you. Just the great stuff.”

She shared her list—a long list—of how working with Everlong would be a learning experience. How she’d see a side of composing she wouldn’t get to see any other way. The money was good apparently. Their writing team was all but guaranteed to win awards. She’d meet great, talented stars and see amazing sights and . . . Kellen knew he couldn’t compete with that. And he didn’t want to. He wanted her to reach for her stars.

“Oh,” she said after several minutes of fanning her own flames of excitement. “Pierre will be there too.”

“Pierre?” Why did that name sound familiar? And then he remembered making fun of the name when Dawn had told him about her unhealthy obsession with her music teacher and how he’d rejected her attempts to seduce him. “The Pierre you were in love with as a teenager?”

“Yeah. He’s actually the one who encouraged them to contact me.”

“So you saw him?” Kellen’s hands were sweating. Between this new job opportunity and the potential for her to rekindle an old flame, he was starting to feel that he should discourage her. For his sake. But even the thought was disgustingly selfish of him.

“He was at the dinner, and he encouraged me to sign the contract. He’s started composing too. Actually, he said I was the one who gave him that dream. I didn’t even know he was considering it. And he’s been working with Everlong for a few months now. I think they’re lovers.”

Kellen c

hoked. “What?”

“Yeah, apparently my gaydar is broken. I had no idea Pierre was into men.” She laughed. “Maybe that’s why I never felt threatened by him.”

So Kellen didn’t have to worry about Pierre stealing his girl. At least not romantically.

“And now that you’ve weighed all the positives, what are the negatives?”

He could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “This is why I didn’t want to sign that contract until I spoke to you. I knew you’d help me approach it logically.”