Page 71 of Songbird
I’m good at not smiling when I don’t want to, but it’s never been this hard to keep a straight face—or my hands to myself. “You’re welcome, Miss Thorne.”
We follow John along wide halls and across a covered courtyard to a self-contained part of the house with three enormous bedrooms and two full baths. On the other side of a white-painted door is a king-size suite with a four-poster bed, extra-wide stand mirror, and a man dressed top to toe in well-fitted black, his long hair slicked back and gray at the temples, his forehead smooth and lashes dark.
He’s fussing with fabrics flung over the bed, a younger guy at his side shifting and rearranging things as directed, but he glances up at our arrival, and his eyes grow bright.
“Mio passerotto,” he exclaims with his arms flung open. “It is so good to see you.”
Rosie takes two steps in his direction, but mine are longer.
“Finn,” she says, setting a gentle hand on my arm when I block her way. “Marco and I are old friends.”
She darts around me and into the old guy’s embrace, and he hugs her with an amused look for me over her blonde head.
“New bodyguard?” he asks dryly.
“Not exactly,” Rosie replies lightly as she moves back a few steps. “Finn worked for me on tour. He’s recently returned.”
“Ah.” Marco presses a finger to the side of his nose. “Part of the spring clean?”
“The spring clean?” she asks, then grimaces. “You mean the breakup with Chip. What have you heard?”
He waves a hand at Rosie’s clothes with eccentric flair. “Strip, darling, and let me see you. We’ll talk while I measure that gorgeous little figure of yours.”
I scowl as Rosie peels off her skirt and tank, sending a little extra heat in the direction of the designer’s beady-eyed assistant who drops his eyes and scurries for the measuring tape. I keep scowling as Rosie, wearing nothing but a thin lace bra and panties, steps onto a small dais arranged in front of the mirrors. I know it’s ridiculous and she’s only doing her job, but nobody’s ever more vulnerable than when they’re naked around strangers, and I’m uncomfortable with any hint of Rosie’s fragility right now.
“You areglowing, darling,” Marco gushes as he circles Rosie with a discerning eye. “I have never seen your skin so fresh. Where have you been these last three weeks? I couldn’t get hold of your team when you missed your fitting for the benefit concert next month, but you must have been having lots of fun to forget all about me and then show up today with a face as pretty as this.” He gasps and smacks his cheek. “Have you had one of those ponytail face lifts? Isthatwhy you’ve been missing for weeks? Oh, that’s so smart. Get in while you’re young before all that skin has a chance to sag.”
The guy’s a tool, and I grit my teeth so I don’t accidentally say so.
Rosie meets my eye in the mirror, then dips her chin with a blush. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Marco, but any glow you think you see is thanks to three weeks of rest, lots of spring sunshine, and loads of water.”
I smirk to myself.And multiple orgasms.
Marco snorts as he clicks his fingers for the measuring tape, which his assistant places in his open palm. “Three weeks off? I can hardly afford that now, can I?” He winks at Rosie. “So, you’re no longer engaged, my love?”
Rosie lifts her chin while Marco loops the tape around her thighs, snapping numbers to the assistant who scribbles them down. “No, I’m not.”
“Good. I can stop holding a grudge that you chose a nobody to design your wedding gown instead of me.”
I growl, then turn it into a cough when all eyes in the room turn on me.
“Give it a rest, Marco,” Rosie says. “You know I love you.”
“Hm. Maybe, but not Chip, eh?”
I’mthis closeto telling this guy to back off when Rosie plants her fists on her hips. “What have you heard?”
“Everything, darling. You know that.” At Rosie’s exasperated sigh, he rolls his eyes, but by the smile on his face, I’d bet he’s loving every minute of this. The tape goes around Rosie’s waist. “Okay, fine. But you didn’t learn this from me.”
He leans in, pretending to whisper, but his voice reaches all corners of the room. “I was at an industry party three nights ago, and an associate at Chip’s firm swears that you’ve already begged him to take you back. It was all a mistake, so says this associate, and the boytoy you were banging behind Chip’s back dropped you the minute things got serious. Now you’redesperateto reconcile because you’renothingwithout him.”
I cross my arms, in control on the outside, fucking fuming underneath the cool façade.
“You know that’s a lie, right?” Rosie says. “I’m happier now than I have been in years.”
“Of course! You’re too good for that horrible man, but…”
“But what?”
