Page 47 of The Painter and His Poet

“So you’ve said,” I reply, heat burning my cheeks. I’m not used to the compliments, and tonight I’ve had plenty of them. It feels nice, admittedly, but receiving compliments and accepting them as fact are two very different things.

“Do you want a manager?” he asks, easing me to the side when a drunken couple almost stumbles into us.

“Sorry, slippery floor,” the guy replies, the woman in his arms giggling. I’m pretty sure she’s an acquaintance of my mother. Both of them are drunk.

I laugh, partly because of the way the couple stumble off the dance floor, and partly because of Ben’s question. Like I’ll ever be able to make a career out of singing now.

“You know someone?” I ask, humouring him.

“Yeah, me.”

“You?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, I happen to be a bloody good manager. I manage Bandits Bar in town–”

“So you manage abar?”

“Actually, I own the bar and managethe band that has made it famous. Princetown Bandits are going to be the next big thing, and they started out playing at my bar. They still do most nights. I’m in talks right now with a couple of well-known record labels who are currently in a battle over who’s going to sign them and make a shitload of money, but keep that to yourself, it’s kind of a secret,” he says, winking at me.

“Well, that’s impressive.”

“I’m notjusta pretty face,” he retorts with a smirk, and to be fair heisvery good looking with his curly brown, tousled hair, incredibly piercing green eyes, and taut body beneath his well-cut suit. As much as I appreciate his good looks, I happen to prefer his best friend, and Ben seems very interested in a married woman.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I joke back, and his grin widens.

“I rather like you, Harlow Richards. I think you’ll be good for my surly, mostly awkward-as-fuck best friend.”

“Not sure anyone else would agree,” I reply, catching my mother’s eye as she lifts a brow then whispers in Robert’s ear. She steps out of his embrace, and heads towards our direction, but is stopped by another member of the wedding party, thankfully. Still, I really don’t want to talk to her right now, so I gently ease myself out of Ben’s arms, and say, “It was nice talking with you, Ben. Hopefully we can catch up another time?”

“Absolutely, and if you ever decide you want a manager after all, then here’s my card,” he says, reaching into his inside pocket and handing me a black business card with green foiled writing. “This has my contact details. At the very least give me a buzz if you need a friend, yeah?”

I raise a brow. “A friend?”

“Purely platonic, I swear,” he grins.

“I’ll think about it,” I reply, taking the card from him and giving him one last smile, hoping my mother doesn’t follow me.

Thankfully when I cast my gaze over my shoulder, I find that Ben has snagged my mother for a dance. I catch his gaze and he winks, and I let out a sigh of relief.

Deciding that I need a moment to gather myself, I grab my bag from the table I left it at, tuck Ben’s business card inside it and head towards the ladies room, giving polite smiles to some of the wedding guests as I pass them by in the hallway. It was sweet of Ben to offer me the opportunity to sing at his bar,but I’m not sure that would be a good idea, mostly because my mother would hate it.

Then again, what would be the harm? She agreed to me singing at her wedding, albeit reluctantly, would it be so bad to do it again in a more informal setting? I don’t even have to hide behind my alter ego Friday Love, and the thought of being able to sing freely as myself is, admittedly, quite tempting.

Truth be known, singing today has given me some much needed confidence, and whilst I still don’t particularly like the attention, I’m not immune to the compliments I’ve received over the course of the evening, even if I still find them difficult to accept.

Musing on the idea, I step into the ladies room and head to a stall. Closing the door, I take a seat on the toilet, not actually needing to relieve myself but needing a moment’s peace.

I’m still reeling from my interaction with Sterling in Dalton’s office, and despite everything, I can’t just switch off my attraction towards him, or the connection I feel. I’m struggling with all the conflicting emotions, and honestly, it’s a lot to deal with.

The worst thing is that I don’t have anyone to talk to about it other than Sterling who is, apparently, more than willing to pursue a relationship despite the fact we are now, for all intents and purposes, family. I don’t have any close girlfriends to discuss my predicament with, and even if I did have a better relationship with my mother, I can’t talk to her for obvious reasons.

Right now I feel incredibly lonely, and this whole shitstorm has only highlighted just how alone I really am. Heaving out a sigh, I press my eyes shut willing the tears forming not to fall. Feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to change anything. I need to think rationally and without emotion, and I can’t do that if I’m constantly tempted by a man I cannot have, which will beawfully hard to do considering I have nowhere else to live. Living in Adaga Hall with Sterling is going to be challenging to say the least.

“These shoes are killing me,” a female voice mutters, her footsteps clicking on the marble floor just beyond the closed door.

I know how she feels, I’m dying to head back to my room so that I can strip down and relax in a bubble bath. I’m about done with socialising for one day. Deciding it’s about time I do that, I open the cubicle door and head for the sink to wash my hands even though I don’t really need to.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a pretty, petite woman with striking strawberry blonde hair with pink streaks highlighted throughout. We haven’t been introduced formally, but I believe she’s called Daisy and is the younger sister of Drix. I only know that because Dalton had pointed her out in our brief conversation earlier when she’d looked our way and had thrown him a glare which he had returned with a wink.

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