Page 81 of Fa-La La-La Land
“What if what I want is you?” He saunters toward me, and I force my feet backward.
“Not during working hours.” I wag my finger, which does nothing to slow his approach.
“I can’t help it. You’re too damn sexy when you talk business,” he says, voice low and rough, the kind that crawls up my spine and turns my pulse into a drum line.
“Rhys, seriously, we have to have boundaries while we’re at work.” I press my hand against his chest, but my laugh gives away how little I want him to stop. Seb texted that he and Mom are on their way home, which will officially burst this short-lived bubble Rhys and I have been in.
His phone buzzes on the coffee table at our side, and we both look. Danny’s name flashes on the screen. Rhys looks back at me, a question in his eyes.
I nod. “You should take it.”
He huffs, then takes the call while I mouth,Knowyour worth.
“Danny, mate,” he answers, friendly but steady—none of his usual deference. His hand twitches like he’s about to apologize, then steadies around the phone instead. “Power cut out while we were talking. Just got restored. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
I wander into the kitchen, too nervous to listen and afraid Rhys will pick up on it. I don’t want him to think I’m not confident he can win against Danny. I am, but there’s so much riding on this call. Not only Rhys’s career but, potentially, mine. I don’t regret telling him to stand up to Danny and VibeHouse, but the reality of what could happen makes me fidgety.
The hum of the heater blends with the soft crackle of the fire. The air smells faintly of smoke and coffee—warm and comforting. I turn my attention back to cutting, editing, and stitching the videos of Rhys. The more traction they get before Danny plays his hand, the better.
While I work, I try not to eavesdrop, but the living room isn’t far away, and his voice isn’t quiet. Danny, though, is doing most of the talking. Rhys cuts in every once in a while with a “Good on ya, mate” or a “Cheers, Dan,” but not much else that gives me any clue what’s happening. Every time I risk a glance at him, his face is unreadable—the kind of calm you learn only after years of swallowing your own opinions.
After about an eternity—or maybe twenty minutes—Rhys says, “If we can get through the canyon, then we can get to the plane. Won’t make rehearsal tonight, but I’ll be in LA by tomorrow. Then we can discuss details, including Stella’s future.”
My stomach curdles. I can’t tell by his tone whether he’s making the decisions or Danny is. He ends the call with a last, “Cheers, mate,” then slowly turns to face me, staring at his phone. When he finally lifts his eyes, I’ve been holding my breath so long my lungsburn.
“Isn’t there something about crowd surfing at a concert on your list?” he asks.
“What?” I stutter, then burst. “Why are we talking about my list? What happened with Danny?”
His lip pulls at the corner. “Just thought you might want to cross that one off your list at Winter Lights—while I’m singing your song.”
I push away from the table and march into the other room. “Rhys James, are you telling me Danny wants you to sing ‘December Dreams’ at the concert, and you didn’t even have to ask?”
He nods. “And my version of ‘Fa-La.’” He shrugs as if this is no big deal. “He’s sending the jet to pick us up tomorrow.”
I stop before I reach Rhys. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Take the jet instead of a commercial flight? Nah, yeah. Absolutely.”
“You’re not worried Danny’s trying to…”
“What? Spit it out, La-La.”
“Manipulate you?” I recoil at the word, worried the question might poke holes in Rhys’s renewed confidence.
He laughs and ambles toward me. “‘Course he is. But you should’ve heard him on the phone—falling all over himself to take back everything he said in his first message.”
“I thought you didn’t listen to it.” I slide my hands around his neck as his loop around my waist.
“I didn’t. Sounds like he threatened to sue for breach of contract and take me for every cent I’m worth. Gave himself away though, and I pretended I’d listened. Told him we could go that route or we could renegotiate my contract. Reckon the video going viral helped him see things my way.” He’s carried the smell of the still-burning fire with him, and I breathe in the comfort and realness ofit.
“What was that last bit about me?” I straighten the collar of his flannel shirt. I think this is my favorite look of his—wood-fired mountain man.
“Think it’s time you saw your company’s name on merch, yeah? You’ll need something to hand to the clients Danny’s sending your way.” He leans in and kisses my neck, trailing his lips all the way to my jaw, stealing my breath as he goes.
“Really? He’s giving me more clients?”
“Only if he wants me to finish out my contract and make millions on my new songs.” He nibbles at my ear.
