Page 37 of Heartbreaker

Why is he acting like I’m the one who did something wrong?

“Larry,” I say, “would you get Frankie some fresh popcorn?”

“Absolutely.” He nods and slips out.

Frankie’s immersed in the game and I lower my voice as I move closer to Royal. “You can leave her here until the end of the game. I don’t mind.”

He shakes his head. “She’s my responsibility, which means I don’t let her out of my sight.”

“Okay. I just thought it might be fun for her. You’re welcome to stay as well. It’s not like we have to talk.”

He snorts. “Yeah, you did all your talking to the press.”

“Excuseme?” It’s hard to keep my voice down, but I somehow manage.

“Apparently, we’re writing new songs together,” he says dryly. “Anything to keep your name associated with mine, eh?”

My mouth falls open, and I stare at him. “I’m sorry—I’mnot the one who was caught sneaking out of my hotel room early the morning after…” I don’t finish my sentence. “And maybe that kind of thing is an everyday occurrence for you, but it’s not for me. I have a reputation to uphold. Icarewhat people think of me.”

We stare at each other and I see the wheels turning.

“There were pictures?” he asks finally.

I give him a look. “Oh, so you know all about what I said about us working on new music but not that you were seen leaving my room? Or how I got ambushed by a reporter and I had to think fast because my former publicist couldn’t be bothered to pay attention?” I grind my teeth together then exhale, trying to keep hold of my temper. “And anyway, I didn’t say wewerewriting music, I simply said people would have to wait and find out.”

His eyes burn into mine. “Which is essentially the same thing.”

I shrug. “That’s not my problem. I had to do damage control on the fly. Otherwise, not only did we spend the night together, you snuck out like I was nothing more than another one-night stand. Which is fine—except for the part where it makes me look like some trashy bimbo who meant nothing to you.” For some reason, my eyes feel a little scratchy and I turn to watch what’s going on out on the ice.

Darn it.

Why do I want to cry?

“Wait. No.” He runs a hand through his hair. “That’s not…shit. I—” He’s interrupted as the crowd erupts once again, and this time, it’s Banks who scores.

I keep my gaze on Frankie as she dances around the suite happily, completely ignoring us.

“I didn’t know,” Royal says once things have settled down again and his voice is softer. “For that, I’m sorry. I thought…”

“I know what you thought,” I say when he doesn’t finish. “But that’s not me. And I don’t need to link my name to yours. My name does just fine on its own. Yes, you wrote that song, but I’m the one who made it a hit. The bulk of my fan base are country music fans—they don’t know who Royal Ewing is. And they don’t care.”

He looks like I slapped him.

Dang it.

I take a moment to gently backpedal.

“I just mean, country music fans don’t necessarily follow a rock guitarist like Royal Ewing—they follow Jade Cantrell.”

“Until you told the world that we were writing a songtogether,” he grumbles. “Now they’re following both of us.”

I lift my chin. “I did what I had to do. Just like you did the morning after our night together.”

“Except now we have to figure out what to do about it.”

“We don’t. We can just say we didn’t have time in our schedules and eventually everyone will forget all about it.”

His eyes settle on mine and whatever is lurking beneath those blue depths is hard to read.

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