Page 52 of For The Record

He pushes a button on his laptop before getting up and sliding a coffee mug over to me. “First of all, this isn’t a favour. I don’t do favours. And second of all, people are always talking.”

My dry mouth waters when I glance down at the cup. Still, he doesn’t seem like the type to make coffee from a TikTok trend. “Whipped coffee?”

“Raina made too much.” Leo turns his attention back to the meeting.

I eagerly take the drink from him and sit on the other side of the table, not wanting to disturb his meeting. The hem of my dress rides up when I sit down and I notice a cream-coloured stain on the skirt. Grimacing, I think about the amount I’ll have to pay for dry cleaning this Herve Leger bandage dress that Poppy lent me from the closet atLa Mode. “You know, I think this counts as a favour. If you weren’t dating me, would you let me get off of work this easily?”

“Skye, just accept it,” he says. “I doubt either of us will be making a habit of it, anyway.”

My mostly empty stomach twists at his words. We won’t be making a habit of spending time together, or I won’t be making a habit of sleeping in until noon? I shove down my questions and settle for a cautious, “Right.”

He spins around on the barstool. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean?” I drink more of the coffee, feeling the liquid energy course through my veins.

“I meant, I know you’re usually not late and so, I’m not going to make excuses for you or let you get away with this kind of thing again,” he says, clicking another button on his laptop.

“That’s good to know.”

“You seem inordinately worried about playing hooky,” he says, glancing over at me.

I chew on my lower lip. “I’m just… It’s hard enough being the daughter of a famous film director, but also being a pop star’s ex-girlfriend? And your… girlfriend? It’s like all these levels of nepotism on top of each other, and I have to prove myself just to keep people from thinking I’m at Volume because of who I know.”

Leo wraps an arm around my shoulders. “You’re good at your job, Skye. Other people’s opinions shouldn’t matter to you.”

“Easier said than done, but I’ll take your advice.”

“Embrace what you are, Skye.”

“Is that why your last name is Perez?” I say tentatively.

“I always wondered what it would be like to have the problem of nepotism. I considered it, living as my father’s son.”

“Didn’t you?”

“Perez is on my birth certificate. My parents never bothered to change it, but I would always put my name as Leo Aguilar in school. I don’t know why I stopped.” He shakes his head. “No, I do know. I wanted to fit in. See if some of his success would rub off on me.”

“Did it help?”

The gap between us closes a little bit. Even though the apartment I share with Poppy is modest at best, I grew up in houses like this. Though I guess for him, this lifestyle was aspirational. For me, it’s something I tried to escape. Maybe we’re more opposite, then.

“I’m still not sure,” he says.

I place my cup in the sink and sneeze as another gust of AC washes over me. Leo looks up from his laptop, a frown knitting his brows together. He leaves the kitchen, making me wonder if he’s worried about whatever contagious disease I might have picked up in the last twenty-four hours. But when he returns, it’s with a soft-looking cashmere blanket draped over his arm, which he passes to me.

“Thanks.” I wrap it around my shoulders like a shawl. It makes me feel like a child again, when Isabelle and I would play dress-up with our mother’s things. Leo closes the laptop, making my eyebrows rise. “Don’t you have a meeting?”

“I ended it early. Just boring shareholder stuff,” he says with a shrug.

“You’re a shareholder in Volume?” I say, fiddling with the grey fringes of the blanket.

“It’s how I initially got started in the company, actually. I was involved in a lot of venture capital funds and I came upon Volume when it was in its beginning stages, almost ten years ago,” he says. “And then I became more and more involved in the business side of things. Three years ago when Jerry Oliver stepped down, he asked me to take his place.”

“Sounds like it might have ruffled a few feathers,” I say. “You know, since you weren’t originally involved in the music industry.”

He shrugged. “There were a few complaints at first, but I’m still around, so I assume they aren’t too annoyed about it.”

My stomach grumbles again. “I need to go.”That was smooth, Skye.“I mean, back to my apartment. For clothes. And stuff.” Embarrassment heats my cheeks, and I clear my throat, straightening.

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