Page 30 of Knot Just A Fan

“Actually, I grabbed it. It’s right here in our office. We’re having a band meeting right now though so I’ll have a courier return it to your home.”

A band meeting. In their office. Right now.

No one’s ever accused me of wasting time when there’s a chance to let my emotions wreck something irrevocably.

I button up my coat and stuff the last of the flaky pastry in my mouth.

CHAPTER 14

Ronan

I crossone ankle over my other knee and Enzo points and laughs like a five-year-old.

“How short are those trousers? When is the flood, mate?”

“Ha-ha,” I say without humor, but my eyes flick up to Ash, who’s pacing by the office windows in the upstairs of the rented townhouse that’s been his office since we moved back here.

“Actually, I grabbed it. It’s right here in our office. We’re having a band meeting right now though so I’ll have a courier return it to your home,” he says.

My ears prick up. I glance around and the most obvious topic is the beige duffel covered in scuff marks with the plastic tag looped around the handle. I lean forward in my chair, closest to Ash’s huge wooden desk, then recognize the bag as I read Briella Phillips’ name on the tag.

Oh, bollocks.

Grayson’s not paying much attention. He’s been on another planet since the gig, but I know this meeting is going to send him spinning right back to this one, ready to pounce on our asses and beat us to a pulp.

But there won’t be much time to do more than that. Our first gig of this tour is in three days. We need to rehearse and getmoving or we’ll be a laughingstock. We’ve gotten rusty. I felt it at the NYE gig. We’d had three months off, after a month of packing up and saying goodbye to our LA home. We’re out of practice, and even with a few spotty rehearsals since we’ve been back, we haven’t been at it like we normally are. We’ve grown fat and lax. At least, technically speaking.

“What was that about, then?” I ask casually, sending darts at Enzo who just shrugs. I take a deep breath. I started this so now we need to deal with it. I know it’ll blow over eventually. Grayson usually gives in to stuff.

But then, “stuff” is usually about me or Ronan. Not Grayson himself.

Ash stands with his back to the window, looking at all three of us. “Briella Phillips. I brought her bag back from the ballroom and she’s asked for it.”

Grayson looks up from his steepled hands for the first time since we dragged our asses here after Ash’s message that we have a mandatory meeting. Now.

“Why don’t I just drop it off on my way home? I drove. These two idiots took the bus just so they could hit the pub on the way back.”

Ash’s eyebrows narrow. “You can’t be out drinking every night. This isn’t party time. This is time to work. Some of those openings were sloppy the other night and we need to sort that shit before tour. We’ve got three days. That meanslay off the booze.”

Clearly he’s talking to me since Enzo doesn’t drink. But he always accompanies me when I do.

“And no—” says Ash, turning to Grayson. “Not a good idea to go to her place in person, since we’ve moved on. Just let it lie. I’ll pay someone to do it, dude. So.” He claps his hands together because I reckon he thinks it makes him feel in control, like ajudge banging a table with a gavel. “Since we’re on the topic, that’s why we’re here, anyhow. Damage control, and then?—”

“Moved on?” Gray’s voice is dangerously low. “The fuck does that mean?”

He’s sitting up now, head swiveling between me, Enzo, and Ash. No one speaks. Enzo broke it to Ash what we did, and why. And Ash could do nothing but agree—after covering his face with his hands. He hated the idea of us sneaking behind Grayson’s back, and having to train up a new photographer. But we had final say in matters like this.

It’s done. Let’s move on, was all he’d said. One thing I like about him is how unemotional he can make things when he needs to—for the sake of our sanity and focus, at least.

He clears his throat then rubs the bridge of his nose. “That’s why we’re here, Gray. She and Enzo and Ronan had a run-in after the gig. They dismissed her. Can we take care of this business so we can move on, please?”

Grayson stands up, the chair squeaking on the wooden floor. “Excuse me?”

The room goes silent and we all stare back at him, and for a minute I’m reminded of the presence Grayson Cove carries with him. He’s not the tallest of us. That’s me. He’s not the most muscly. That’s Enzo. But he can be the most intimidating bastard I’ve ever met, with those dark-rimmed glasses, that dark brow like an eagle ready to pick you out of a mouse hole and devour you. He can go from the warmest guy in the room, the best conversationalist, to—well, this.

He doesn’t get angry often. And those are the scariest types.

“Who’s the pack leader?” His voice silences us. “Who’s the leader of this band?” He turns to face Ash. “Not you. You manage us, and you’re our mate. But at the end of the day, you’re also our employee. Why wasn’t this run by me before you decided todismissthe photographer I trained and hired a fucking decadeago?” His volume rises through to the end, and I see Enzo grit his teeth and bug his eyes out, away from all of us in a,Yikes, mankind of way.

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