Page 3 of Goodbye Note

“You convinced me, and I’m the most jaded motherfucker in this room.” He sounded far too young to be an exec. But then who was the mysterious stranger?

I knew his voice from somewhere, but I couldn’t place it. “What are you hiding from?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment, and I almost thought he was giving me the cold shoulder. “Life. Everyone. I get overwhelmed at these things.”

“What makes you come then? You someone important?”

He had to be someone to be here. But who?

“Some people think so, but that’s not as important as you think.” His tone was inviting, urging me closer.

I gave into the chemistry, immersing myself in the shadows. “I need more information.”

“What kind of information?” Amusement colored his tone, bringing a smile to my lips.

“What side of the business are you on?”

“You mean talent or industry?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I should be offended you’d believe I could work on the side of the devil.”

“My apologies.” I laughed, and he turned toward me, leaning against the wall. “But it’s hard to tell in a place like this.” I hoped he wasn’t really offended.

“You can’t tell the difference between us and the suits? I’m wounded.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“It’s going to take more than an apology to make it up to me.” The dark stranger lowered his voice, making me lean in to hear him.

“And how will I make it up to you?”

“Have a drink with me,” he said close to my ear.

“Anything you want.” I meant it. Whoever he was, I’d already decided I wanted to know him.

He made a tsk sound. “You give away far too much, far too easily, but—since it benefits me—I’m going to allow it.”

“Allow it?”

“You heard me.” He shoved off the wall, straightening to stand a few inches taller than I was. He had to be six three or four. His height wasn’t imposing but confident with a lean build. He slipped his first and middle finger into the hood and pulled it back, bringing his features into view.Between the scar from the bottom corner of his left eye to the right side of his chin and his golden shoulder-length hair, there was no mistaking him.

I stifled a gasp. No wonder he’d worn his hood up.

Varian St. James. Only a villain had a name like that. Or a rock star.Everyone in this room would recognize him immediately.He was even more beautiful and harsh in person, which said something because the guy had a helluva stage presence and a reputation as a cold dick.

Why was he even here? His band Dopamine-Fiend was everything mine aspired to be. They’d just come off a massive tour with Death Nostalgia, and the rumor was that they were working on another album and an arena tour.

“You don’t have to—” he started when I didn’t say anything.

I shook my head before I found my voice, not letting him finish. “No—I take making amends very seriously. A drink is the least I can do.”

His lips curled, pulling at the unnaturally white skin of the scar, revealing the signature crooked smile he’d had since he was a child. His parents were famous musicians, and he grew up in the spotlight.

Rumors said it happened at a party thrown by his parents, when he was six years old. A party he had no place being at, but no one knew the details of when or where it happened because it had been covered up and he hadn’t been seen in public for years after.

“What do you fancy?” he asked, leveling me in a stare.

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