Page 79 of Final Serenade

“No pain, no gain, darlin’.” Dante dropped his arms to his sides and spun to look at me, his eyes flickering across my face. Only a couple of inches separated us and I caught the fresh scent of his cologne and heard him swallow. Everything about him—the plain outfit, the goddamn lollipop, the one-sided smile, the glimmer of sun in his dark hair—was a lie. A facade. Dante Martinez was a can of worms just waiting to be opened.

“If you’re investing your time into something, you better be fucking sure it’s worth it,” he said, the candy rattling softly against his teeth. “You don’t want to waste your effort on some talentless joke. The girl is good, though.”

Despite all the nasties in his feedback, Dante’s validation meant a lot to me. Shitty friend or not, he was still one of the most well-respected musicians in the world. People wanted to be next to him, to be with him, and some wanted to be him.

“She actually did a really great job on the cover of ‘Ambivalent.’ I might have it here.” Overzealous, I exited the player and flipped through the files in the folder.

Dante propped his hands against the table and continued to suck on his lollipop, his head level with mine.

This was me breaking my own rules again. Mixing my work and my personal stuff. And, oh boy, my ambitious side secretly wished for Dante to be serious about getting involved. I’d always wanted someone of his caliber to be a part of this project. This could be a game-changer for Isabella.

Frank found us when we were in the middle of watching the cover video. I heard his footsteps and felt his presence before I saw him. He’d showered and changed. The tips of his hair, still damp, brushed his shoulders.

Dante invited himself to pause the video on my laptop and motioned for Frank to join us. “You should see this, Frankie-boy. Your little do-gooder found some hot talent.”

This wasn’t happening, was it?

I started the recording from the beginning. Frank’s face tensed when the images began to move, but he watched the entire video.

“The girl can sing, huh?” Dante bumped his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he agreed, then added, “I feel threatened. Kids can do my songs better than me.” There was a sliver of amusement in his voice, yet there was also something else. Bitterness. His fingers, long, slender, firm, touched my neck. He was marking his territory in front of Dante.

Despite the generous blasts of AC, the room felt hot and the air became heavy. Disturbing tension hung between us. Or maybe it was between them and I happened to be in the middle of it, but it was there. Every cell in my body sensed the stress of their relationship. Confusion and subtle anger filtered through me.

Dante broke the silence first. “I’ll be in the studio when you two are done screwing each other.” He was on his way out but halted in the doorway, took his candy out of his mouth, and looked at Frank. “You’re bringing her to the party, right?”

“What party?” I questioned.

“The album release party I’m putting together in a couple of months.” Dante whipped his gaze to me. “Gonna be some sick shit, short stuff. You should come. See how we do it.”

He stuck the lollipop back between his teeth and exited the room.

I sat behind the desk with my eyes on the paused images as Frank stood behind me, running his hands up and down my shoulders. He breathed out a sigh that sounded a lot like relief.

“Just so you know”—I quickly collected myself—“I’m not asking you to get involved. I would never do that.”

“Why not?” Frank twined his fingers in my hair.

“Because I can’t. You’re someone I’m seeing. I don’t like to mix my work with my personal life.” That was only half of the truth. The other half was the complication of our relationship. We were a well-kept secret. Getting Frank involved could trigger the public’s interest.In me.

“But you have, Cassy.” His mouth neared my ear, hot and inviting on my skin. “I think what you’re doing is very noble. I’d love to hear more.”

The press of his lips against the back of my neck was an electrical current. My body stilled in the chair, my legs weakened, and my chest filled with kind warmth.

“I’ll see you later,” Frank whispered, and then he was gone.

Chapter Twelve

Three days after my strange encounter with Dante at Frank’s place, Levi and I worked an art show in West Hollywood. It was a small get-together at a private gallery near Melrose. The evening featured expensive appetizers, drinks, a silent auction, and guests smoking weed in the back alley. I loved the vibe and having the ability to mingle and chat with some of the artists. Casual affairs like this were my favorite. It gave us an opportunity to connect with people.

The gallery owner designed jewelry and clothes for the rock ’n’ roll elite. She was a fussy and loud woman who didn’t miss a chance to hug every single person who approached her.

Most attendees were musicians from up-and-coming L.A. bands and their plus-ones. Though the event was invitation only, a small group of eager fans waited to grab a selfie outside. Merch and cell phones in hand, they crowded the main entrance.

We wrapped up at around ten, but the party was still going strong. Music blasted, people laughed, champagne bubbled. I wanted to stay a little longer and socialize, but Levi insisted we push tonight’s coverage fast. He aimed for a full recap and a photo gallery before noon. What my partner didn’t take into account was that I had an hour drive ahead of me and a needy man to cuddle with. Frank had been taking up a lot of my time, and the deadlines I’d been able to meet in the past now seemed unrealistic. Between my affair,Rewiredcommitments, and Ashton, there were very few hours left for sleep.

“I think we should bring Carlos to the rehearsal. We need some candid shots of the band and Isabella’s mother,” Levi shared his ideas with me as we crossed the parking lot.

---