The Last Love Song (A BWWM BDSM Romance) (16 page)

I felt like I'd been struck. This whole time I'd been worried about what the tabloids would say about me if we were found out, what the effect might be on my career. But now Vaughn was almost definitely going to lose his job. I felt sick.

"I'm so sorry," I said to him, too shocked to even tear up on his behalf.

He shrugged. "It was a gamble."

A gamble? Was that all?
"Vaughn." My voice cracked.

But he turned and left without looking back.

I couldn't stop replaying it all over in my head. At first I was devastated. Everything we'd done, all the things he'd made me feel, and I was nothing but a gamble to him? This was nothing but a game? I'd never harbored any fantasies about making it a long term thing, getting married and having babies, that would have been downright ridiculous. But it was too real, too raw and intense to mean nothing at all.

But when the tabloids dug up his "dirt" the very next morning, it became apparent that there was a lot more going on with him.

"Bad Bodyguard: Zenaida's Beau Charged With Negligent Homicide." It was a sensationalist headline, of course. The case had happened eight years ago and the charges never stuck. He was never even indicted.

But he was right. This was dirt. People would jump on this news like rabid dogs.

And I'd had no idea. But of course, I'd never asked him. We'd never talked about much of anything.

I researched what I could about the case. Apparently he'd been a bouncer back then, but some heiress paid him to keep an extra eye on her teenage son at a concert. There were drugs, fights, and chaos, and the kid ended up dead.

My stomach churned as I read it. How awful it must have been for everybody involved! The mother accused Vaughn of standing by and doing nothing while her son took drugs, claimed that being a bodyguard for a teenager meant protecting them from themselves. Vaughn said he had no knowledge of any drugs being taken and that short of standing with the boy at the urinals, he'd done all he could to watch out for him.

I slammed my laptop shut. I could either keep reading every dirty detail or I could ask the source himself. The magazines and news articles wouldn't answer the real questions I had, which were "How did you deal with it?" and "Are you doing okay?"

We were flying back home that night without him. He'd already checked out and disappeared, so I had to cross my fingers and hope that his company would know where to find him. Or that they would at least give me his phone number.
Maybe Lexi has it
. I would deal with the girl's meltdown if it meant I could get in touch with Vaughn.

The atmosphere on our jet was chilly, to put it mildly. Pauline and Lexi especially avoided speaking to me in more than a few clipped words, or even looking at me for that matter. Why did they care so much, anyway? A little affair like this wouldn't hurt my career for long, and therefore wouldn't hurt theirs. I suppose it created a little extra work for them but they would have time while we were gearing up for the tour.

"Don't worry," Gavin said to me once we were in the air, "They'll all get over it."

"They'd better," I mumbled, glaring from behind my sunglasses. Or else Zenaida the Queen of the Pink Slip would have to make a reappearance. I hadn't fired anyone in almost two months and their disapproving frowns were making my trigger finger itch.

Maybe it was time to remind them of who I was. I didn't shrink away from anything. And now that I'd faced Camden, I could honestly say that. I didn't shrink away from
anything
.

"I want you to get me Vaughn's phone number and address," I said to Lexi, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Lexi looked like a deer caught in headlights. But Pauline spoke up for her. "Do you really think that's a good idea? You did read the papers this morning, right?"

I stared her down. Maybe she was my long-time manager and even on occasion a friend, but she was not coming between me and what I wanted. I hadn't worked as hard as I'd worked so someone could tell me that it wasn't a good idea to see someone that I wanted to see.

Lexi finally put an end to our face-off. "I have a number," she said, "No address and there's no way the company will release it to me. But I can text it to you."

"Right now?"

She sighed and pulled out her phone.

◦◦◦

I didn't try to get in touch with him right away. Truth was, I had no idea what to say. He'd been so casual about walking out and had disappeared so quickly - would he want to hear from me at all?

There was only one way to find out. Maybe I just wasn't ready for the answer yet.

Luckily I had a grueling rehearsal schedule to distract me. The tour was three months away - it might have sounded like a lot of time, but I knew how fast it would go by.

And I knew I wanted him there with me, on the road. He made me feel safer than any security team before him every had. That news story be damned - it was tragic but it was a long time ago, and no article on the internet could tell me what had really happened - only Vaughn himself could do that.

It was a whole week before I finally worked up the nerve to send a message. I stretched out in bed, sore all over after spending the day learning a series of new steps and high-kicks to a remix of an old song. The television was on but it was muted. And Vaughn's gift lurked in the back of my nightstand drawer.

The thought of that pink monster gave me the idea. A big part of me wanted to hold it up near my cheek, take a selfie, and send it to him. But the thought of that photo ever getting leaked made my insides go cold with dread, so I scrapped that idea.

But how much harm could a few dirty words do?

And what should I say? I didn't want to sound too pathetic, too needy. I didn't want to beg. I had to be careful though - as he'd said so clearly before, he had to be the one calling the shots. I still couldn't believe that I was okay with such an arrangement, but now wasn't the time to question it. Now was the time to bring him back to me.

Hands unsteady, I tapped out the message on my phone - "I'm ready for my next assignment, sir." I took a deep breath before hitting "send." That had to do it. It was the right thing to say - I wasn't demanding anything. I wasn't even asking for anything. I was just letting him know that I was waiting.

And wait I did - all night long. He never responded at all.

Another day, another dance, another talk show appearance. I should have been thrilled. My tour had sold out as soon as the tickets went on sale and the hype was off the charts.

But it was time to face the music, so to speak. The rumor mills kept right on churning and I couldn't put it off forever - I had to do a little damage control regarding the pictures in the hotel that night.

So why not a talk show? Why not talk about it in front of millions while I was still missing him and wondering where he was?

I was the first guest up that night. It had been five days since my text and I'd given up any hope of hearing back. I entertained the possibility that the phone number was wrong or that he simply never saw it, but that was just denying the harsh truth of it - he was through with me.

"Let's have a round of applause for Zenaida!"

I should be above talk show appearances by now,
I thought bitterly as I strode across the stage to shake the host's hand. Harper Moore was new on the late night scene, but was a very good host from what I'd heard. As long as he didn't do the same awkward thing that so many white hosts before him did and try to be cute about repeating hip hop slang and lyrics, we would get along fine.

"Thanks for having me, Harper," I said, curtsying to the audience before taking the seat next to his desk. He circled around to his chair while the audience remained on their feet, clapping and cheering like mad. It was nice to see people so excited to see me - I needed the reminder sometimes that this was all for the fans. It was too easy to lose track and get caught up in industry politics and personal drama - as I very much had been, lately.

"So as everybody knows, you've got a big tour coming up." The audience went wild once again, and he had to raise his voice to get them to settle down. "Tickets sold out in record time, they’re being scalped for record profits. How do you feel, are you excited?"

"I feel blessed. I feel... lucky," I recited, using the words I'd rehearsed backstage with Lexi. "I can't wait for everybody to see the show."

"And for people who couldn't get tickets?" he asked, "Because you know how quickly you sold out, not everybody who wanted to see you is going to get to be there."

"We'll be live streaming every concert," I said, smiling at the audience. That earned another round of cheers.

"What can we expect this tour?" he asked. "Any new songs, any surprises?"

"Oh, Harper, you know I've always got something up my sleeve." Which was ridiculous, because my top was sleeveless. He laughed.

"All right, all right, so, not to change the subject..."
You can't wait to change the subject, liar.
"But can you fill us in on these rumors? I'm sure you've seen the picture online." He gestured at the screen next to his desk where the photo of Vaughn and me was on full display. "Am I right if I say you're having a little 'office romance' of sorts?"

I shot him my most practiced, fierce smile. "Now now, Harper, I am a single woman, so something like this isn't exactly scandalous." The audience laughed. "And you don't know what I was doing there. There's no photos of me in that room. Perhaps I was giving singing lessons!" That brought even more laughter - singing lessons at three in the morning? No one was buying that.

"Well, we heard the unfortunate fellow lost his job."

I looked down at my hands. Of course the security company had let him go right away, having an affair with a client was way against the rules. "An unfortunate consequence," I said, "And one I myself didn't think about at the time."
Appear apologetic
, Lexi had coached,
Don't start ranting against the company or the business or the rules, it will make everything worse
.

"And are you two still seeing each other? Are you an item?"

We are not
, I was supposed to say,
We've gone our separate ways
. My heart seized up - Lexi was going to flip, but I was going off-script. I had to get his damn attention, I couldn't quit and leave things as they were.

"I don't know what we are," I said. Harper blinked at the change but let me continue. "I haven't seen him since the photo was taken. I've been trying to reach him but I haven't had much luck," I said, chuckling at how pathetic I sounded.

The studio was silent at my admission. Harper cleared his throat and went off-script with me, reading the situation well. "If you could say anything to him right now, what would it be?"