Page 16 of Giving Chase

We sit in tense silence for a moment. Then, before I can stop myself, I say, "I'm sorry. About earlier. I... overreacted."

He finally looks at me, his green eyes intense. "Did you? Or were you just being honest for once?"

The question hangs between us, heavy with unsaid words we both know could destroy us. Destroy everything. Incendiary Ink on the brink of stardom, and I would only be a distraction forChase. It would only complicate things and put everything we’re working toward in jeopardy.

I open my mouth, then close it again, not sure how to respond. Because the truth is, I don't know. I don't know what I want, what I feel, what's right or wrong anymore. And if I can’t say it, I shouldn’t say anything. I can’t muddy the water we’re barely keeping our head’s above or we’ll all drown. Not just me. Not just Chase. Everyone.

Chase sighs, setting down his glass. "Look, Eliza. I know we said no strings. But I'm starting to think that's bullshit. There have always been strings between us. We're just too scared to admit it."

His words hit too close to home. Scared doesn’t even begin to cover it. I can’t give in to my emotions. I can’t give in tohim.It kills something inside of me to not openly agree with him, and I feel that death deep in my soul. I know exactly what I’m losing by not admitting my feelings right here and now, and my heart is pleading with me to just give in - but I just can’t do it. Every path ahead that I see with us together ends in disaster for everyone involved. It’s a responsibility I don’t want. In fact, I want to run as far away from it as I fucking can.

But I can’t.

We can’t do this here. Hell, we can’t do this anywhere. I pull myself together and stand abruptly. "We need to go. You can't be late for this interview."

Chase looks at me for a long moment, then nods, resignation settling over his features. "Sure. Whatever you say, boss."

As we walk to the elevator, I can feel the weight of everything unsaid between us. The roses and chocolates in my room. The ache in my chest. The knowledge that no matter how hard we try, 'no strings attached' might be an impossible dream for us.

The elevator doors close, and I catch our reflection in the mirrored walls. We're standing close, but not touching. Alwaysclose, but never quite connecting. I wonder how long we can keep this up before something breaks.

As we step out into the penthouse where the interview is being held, I push all these thoughts aside. Right now, I need to be Eliza Kerr, manager of Incendiary Ink. Not Eliza, the woman who's falling for her client despite her best efforts. Despite her own rules.

But as Chase's hand briefly brushes mine, sending a jolt of electricity through me, I know one thing for certain: This 'no strings' arrangement is far more complicated than either of us bargained for. And sooner or later, we're going to have to face the truth – whatever that might be.

Bad Guy

CHASE

The valet takesmy keys with a nod of recognition. I wonder if he's an Incendiary Ink fan or if he just knows me as another washed-up rocker trying to relive his glory days. Either way, I force a smile and head into the restaurant, the scent of expensive perfume and seared meat hitting me as I enter.

La Boucle is exactly the kind of place Eliza would choose. Upscale without being pretentious, quiet enough for conversation but busy enough to provide a buffer of anonymity. As I follow the maître d', my heart pounds so loudly I'm sure everyone can hear it.

And then I see her.

Eliza is sitting at a corner table, her back to the wall – always aware of her surroundings, always in control. She's studying the menu, a strand of platinum blonde hair falling across her face. The sight of her hits me like a physical blow, and suddenly I'm transported back in time.

Eliza, laughing at something I said during a late-night recording session.

Eliza, fierce and protective, arguing with label execs on our behalf.

Eliza, her eyes filled with disappointment and pain the last time I saw her.

Guilt washes over me, so intense it makes me stumble. The maître d' gives me a concerned look, but I wave him off. I can't do this. I can't face her, can't confront the hurt I caused, the mess I made of everything.

I start to turn, ready to bolt, when Eliza looks up. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, the world stops spinning.

She's even more beautiful than I remembered. The years have been kind to her, adding a sophistication to her features that takes my breath away. But it's the vulnerability in her eyes, quickly masked, that roots me to the spot.

I've hurt her. God, I've hurt her so much. And yet here she is, willing to meet me, to give me another chance I don't deserve.

The least I can do is face her.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to walk to the table. Eliza stands as I approach, and for an awkward moment, we both hesitate. Then, surprising us both, she steps forward and embraces me.

The hug is stiff, formal, nothing like the warm embraces we used to share. But feeling her in my arms again, smelling the familiar scent of her perfumes makes my head spin. It’s never just one perfume. It’s a mix of Chanel and something else. Something uniquely Eliza. I hold onto her a moment too long, savoring her scent and the contact I've been deprived of for five years.

Eliza pulls away first, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face. I immediately drop my arms, cursing myself for overstepping.

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