The buzz of a phone drew his attention to the kitchen island. He moved some grocery bags around and found Giselle’s cell vibrating against the granite with the name Chad lighting up the screen.
Troy clenched his teeth and picked up the phone. Giselle had misplaced it early on, but they’d been so caught up in each other since, she hadn’t been looking for it. And the fact that Chad just couldn’t stop hounding Giselle even after the doctor had told him she needed this time off to heal pissed Troy off.
The phone quieted, but Troy’s temper still burned.
Just as he set the phone down, it chirped with a new text message.
“Fucking A.” He tapped the face and pulled up Chad’s message.
GET. BACK. HERE. NOW.
“What the…?” Troy set the knife down and scrolled through Chad’s previous messages, all unanswered by Giselle. He also found a handful from Brook. His gaze darted to the lower bar showing missed calls and waiting messages, and he swore, then returned his attention to the texts, which started about the time Giselle was in the emergency room.
He skimmed through Chad’s rants over Troy keeping him out of her room and skipped to the ones that had come in later, all of them designed to lure Giselle back to work.
Met with Pepsi today. They’re offering a three-month military tour in Asia. Call me.
Anheuser-Busch has approached me about a headliner tour in North America. This is BIG.
Word’s spreading. I’ve gotten sponsorship offers from four big hitters. Where the fuck are you?
I’m on the edge of panic. AEG Live and Live Nation are on board with sponsors. CALL ME!
Giselle, get your priorities in line! This is your career. Stop fucking around.
And the one she’d just received: GET. BACK. HERE. NOW.
“Just fucking beautiful.”
Troy had made enemies of the people closest to Giselle in the past, a mistake he didn’t want to repeat. But this was different. Troy wasn’t alienating Chad because he was jealous or felt challenged. Chad had the Type A personality that fed into Giselle’s ingrained drive to achieve. A drive stemming from a childhood of poverty and strife. Chad wanted her back at work and away from Troy, who Chad saw as interference and competition. But work wouldn’t help Giselle heal.
Only Brook asked how Giselle was feeling, how things were going with Troy, and if she needed anything.
Troy’s head throbbed. He closed his eyes, propped his elbow on the granite, and rested his forehead on his hand. He was sweating. His heart was racing. He was thrilled for this rise in her career and terrified for her at the same time.
These messages told Troy she’d finally done it, finally risen to the level of her idols. He saw her hitting the big time in the very immediate future, and he couldn’t have been more thrilled for her. But it also couldn’t have come at a worse time, because in her current physical and emotional state, that kind of pressure put her on a direct fas track to burnout. The kind of burnout that didn’t just go away with a few days of rest but that killed careers. Killed relationships. Killed people.
He also knew Giselle would work herself sick before she’d take the break she needed. He’d watched her do it over and over again while Ryker had been off playing army and before Chad had ever met her. He could tell that hadn’t changed by the number of concerts she put on, the number of albums she produced, and the number of charity events she participated in. She was one of the most driven people he’d ever met. He respected that, admired it, but he also knew that compulsion had to be tempered or it would run her aground. Run them aground. Again.
To grab hold of these tour offers, she’d jump back on the first available plane, even with a concussion. She’d promise the sponsors the moon, even if her voice wasn’t ready to deliver, even if her body wasn’t ready to handle the stress. Troy was certainly no stranger to workaholism or vices, but his brotherhood of fishermen and then the Renegades had given him the support he’d needed to stay balanced. He could easily see Giselle didn’t have that network. And traveling around the world certainly wouldn’t create one.
He exited to the main message screen where Chad’s GET. BACK. HERE. NOW. stared back at Troy. He wouldn’t put it past this guy to trace Giselle’s phone to get ahold of her.
He pressed the power button, turning the phone off, then pulled the battery out, threw it and the phone into the nearest drawer, and slammed his hands on the granite.
Giselle might think this guy was a great manager, but in Troy’s opinion, Chad looked a lot more like a greedy narcissist, looking to wring every drop of blood he could get from her. How he didn’t see the effect this would have on Giselle in the long run, Troy didn’t understand. Or maybe the guy just didn’t give a shit. Maybe, when Giselle burned out, he simply planned to dump her and move on to the next hot ticket.
But Troy knew attacking Giselle’s agent wasn’t the way to get her to see what he was doing. His best hope was to show her that she could have a life outside her work and still be successful. Maybe that couldn’t have happened in the beginning, but they had a lot more flexibility now, so many more options now. He just needed more time with her. Time to bond. Time to fit. Then, when they’d found more comfort together, he could breach those topics with her.
It was a good plan. The only plan. But he still felt a powerful undercurrent pulling Giselle away even while she was still here, and he couldn’t help but wonder: Was losing her inevitable? Was this draw so ingrained that she would ultimately choose her career over him the same way she had seven years ago? Or would she be able to swim against that current and make the sacrifice required to find balance in her life?
“We need to talk.”
Giselle’s voice startled him, and he jerked his head up to find her standing five feet away wearing nothing but a towel. A very small towel. One that barely covered her breasts and stopped way too high on those delicious thighs.
“I didn’t hear you.” Dragging his mind back to her demand was a struggle. Talk. “Uh, sure.” He moved to the cutting block and picked up a knife. “Dinner’s almost ready. Go ahead and get dressed. This will only take fifteen minutes.”
Giselle stepped up beside him and covered his hand holding the knife. “No. Now.”