Page 53 of Finding Emotion

“So corny,” Skylar muttered, but warmth returned to her fingers. Her breathing evened out as she pictured him blushing wherever he was as she tapped out her return message, adding an eggplant emoji onto the end.

Her hand didn’t shake at all when she reached for the door. It was just dinner. That was all. She just had to have it with two assholes.

The Diamond Oyster wasn’t the type of restaurant Skylar would have chosen. “I hate seafood,” she muttered as she passed Mandy.

Her manager fell into step beside her. “I verified that they have alternative selections.”

Skylar wondered when she’d had time to, since they’d only been contacted an hour ago. She hadn’t wanted to do the videos in the suite in front of Damon and had decided the tinted windows in the limo were perfect for the composition. At least Damon had been gone from the suite when she’d run up to change into business attire, which included her normal boots but paired with leather pants and a jacket. She liked that the jacket clinked with each step as much as her boots.

The assholes weren’t waiting in the lobby for them. No, the restaurant had private dining areas for those that could pay, and Jack’s father could always pay. Neither man stood when Skylar and her manager were led into the private space. Behind them was an aquarium, but it didn’t hold the typical type of fish. The staring octopus almost distracted Skylar from her returning nerves.

Jack looked away from her as she crossed the room. His face and upper arms had a pudginess that he’d never had before, which surprised her. He’d been on her case about her weight all the time when they performed together.

His father, George Casemore, owner of Casemore Records, was as built as she remembered. He looked like he belonged behind a bulldozer, not in a suit. With close-cut salt-and-pepper hair; hard, emerald eyes; and a square jaw, she’d been intimidated by him ever since she met the man. So had Sorcha. That was why Sorcha hadn’t turned down his son joining the band. That and the additional backing it had scored them.

Casemore’s smile appeared pleasant enough as he steepled his fingers. “Good evening, Skylar.”

“Is it, though?” Skylar asked, sitting in the chair the restaurant’s employee held out for her and hoping like hell she didn’t fall on her ass. He tucked her in at the table like the professional he was.

Casemore’s lips had thinned. He turned to the server that had appeared at their entrance, ordering a bottle of wine.

“Skylar doesn’t drink,” Jack reminded his father. He still hadn’t looked at her.

“Ah, that’s correct.” Those hard eyes of his focused on her. “How could I forget such an expensive rehab program? What will you have instead, my dear?”

“Sparkling water is fine.” Skylar’s eyes found the server. “The extra fizzy kind.”

“Water is my preference as well,” Mandy said as she also sat.

“Ms. Stetson. I mentioned you could excuse yourself from this meeting.” Casemore frowned at Skylar’s manager.

Mandy shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it since you indicated this was a continued discussion of Skylar’s upcoming tour schedule.” Her eyes flicked to Skylar before returning to the record label owner again.

Skylar frowned. “I already said no.”

“And I’m here to tell you to reconsider.”

“Tell me, Georgie?” Skylar’s throat grew tighter. “After the shit Sorcha just pulled, you’re lucky if I don’t sue you for breach of contract.”

Jack paled. “Sorcha never specifically—”

Casemore’s hand slammed down on the table, making his son and Mandy jump. Skylar had gotten used to his antics during the time she’d been with Jack, at least enough to never give his father satisfaction over her reactions again.

The server had paused in the doorway, her sparkling water in hand. Skylar waved him over, happy for the prop. He disappeared afterward, not staying to take their orders.

“My son has addressed his wife,” Casemore assured her.

Skylar had known they’d gotten married. The speed of it hadn’t surprised her. Sorcha had always gone after what she wanted.

“Like that makes me feel better,” Skylar muttered, sipping from her glass. The bubbles tingled down her dry throat.

“This is not about your feelings.” Casemore’s gaze flicked toward her manager, and his lips tightened. “This is business.”

“I’m making your label plenty of money.” Skylar didn’t look at Jack. “More than Winter Dust Storm is bringing in.”

“But neither combined makes as much as I made before.” Casemore tilted his head as he studied her. “Skylar, your music has not exactly hit the top ten. The sound you’ve adopted is well received, but quite… niche.”

Skylar’s hand tightened on her glass. “You can’t be asking what I think you’re asking.” Her eyes flicked to Jack. “Not after your son—”

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