Page 98 of Serving the Maestro

I tossed back half of it, enjoying the burn, refilled the glass and took the bottle with me onto the wide balcony that faced the ocean.

My place wasn’t huge. Property in California—especially on the beach—came at a premium. Although I’d had some minor successes in my career, I wasn’t pulling in the kind of money one would need to have some palatial spread out here. But I loved this place.

Sitting out on the balcony and watching the moon float across the sky as the waves crashed into the rocks never ceased to calm my mind.

Or rather, it hadn’t.

Now, I barely took notice of the big, fat full moon hanging in the sky, so bright it blotted out what few stars managed to pierce the light pollution of a Los Angeles night.

What had happened?

She’d been fine when she slipped away to use the restroom.

More than fine—all hot, bothered, and sexily mussed.

I’d been debating whether to head on out when she got back anyway because I wanted to get my hands on her—really get my hands on her. As much as I liked playing at my club, I needed to have Jazz wrapped around me, and I realized I wasn’t too big on the idea of sharing any deep intimacies between Jazz and me.

She’d come back fucking pissed, wrapped up taut, and ready to snap.

My phone rang.

I ignored it, too irritated and worried about whatever could have upset Jazz. How could I get her to talk to me?

I emptied my scotch glass and poured myself another serving.

The phone rang again.

I ignored it and leaned back, taking another sip of the rich amber liquor, eyes turned inward.

When the phone rolled over to voicemail, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then started swearing because it started ringing again less than thirty seconds later. Slamming the glass on the rattan and glass table, I grabbed the phone from my pocket and hauled it out, ready to turn it off and throw the damn thing into the ocean.

Then I saw Avery’s face on the screen.

“Stop calling, Avery,” I snapped. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

“Oh, honey...” Voice a husky coo, she asked, “Are you and your little whore fighting?”

Rage blinded me for a second, and I went to snarl, but the words clicked in my head. “Why would we be fighting?”

“Oh, don’t play coy, baby.” She sighed on the other end of the line. “She really is pretty, you know. A little...soft. I doubt you’ll be able to get everything you need from her, but maybe I’m wrong. She certainly wasn’t into the threesome I suggested.”

I saw red.

“You talked to Jazz.”

“Oh, not for long.” Avery laughed.

There was a meanness to it I’d never heard before.

“She took off running not long after I mentioned our little...get together this afternoon. She seemed a little crestfallen, Trent. You really do need to explain to her how things work in this world.”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked softly. “I thought we were friends, but here you are trying to destroy a relationship that makes me happy. Why the fuck would you do that to somebody you say you care about?”

A strained few seconds passed, and then she laughed again, but this time, it was forced and sharp-edged.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Trent. It’s not like I went and lied and told her we were married or anything. If she can’t take hearing about your former lovers, then she’s not going to last anyway.”

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