The Last Love Song (A BWWM BDSM Romance) (18 page)

"I'd put money on that motherfucker himself," I said, mentally cursing my hot-headed idiocy. If only I'd thought this through a little more, if only I'd been a little less vague... fucking "forgiveness?" Who
wouldn't
assume I was talking about Camden?

"Any damage control ideas?" I asked, grimacing.

"Premiere the song early," the both said. "Or fuck it, let it go," Lexi went on. "Rumors are good, they'll build hype. Camden is the only one who needs to know that it's not about him."

"And how, pray tell, do we do that?" I asked, looking between them both. I was rapidly losing my patience.

Gavin grinned. "You could release a sex tape!"

Lexi and I both silenced him with glares that could have boiled water. "Are you drunk?" she asked him. He hiccuped.

"We'll let the rumor mill have its way for now," I said, resting my head in my hands. The damage was going to be much worse if Vaughn never responded at all.
Well, then I can write an angry song about being too good for him in the first place, anyway
. "Fuck it. I'm tired. I'm tired of all of it."

They didn't bother answering that claim. I made it at least once a month.

I was startled awake when my phone rang later that night. I'd fallen asleep as soon as I hit my mattress and was sure nothing but the devil could wake me. Apparently a tinny techno beat could do it, too.

Groggily, I grabbed it from where I'd left it on the floor and rolled back onto the bed, holding it above my face.
Vaughn
. Now I was awake.

I answered. "You got my message?"

"You sure it wasn't meant for Camden?" he chuckled. The rich rumble warmed my damn heart. How could I be in over my head already?

"Don't be a dick," I said, laughing.

He grew serious right after. "Why did you do it?"

"Write it or announce it?" I asked, covering my eyes with my arm. "To reach you."

"I thought I was clear last time we spoke, sweetheart." At least he sounded apologetic about it.

"I thought you might at least like to hear the song," I said, sitting up in my bed.

There was a pause.
Here it comes again, his damn speech about why this can't go on
. Finally, quietly, he said, "Okay."

I took a deep breath. This was big - I wondered if he even realized how big this was. My fans would know. Anyone who'd ever asked me why I refused to write love songs would know. In the entertainment world this was monumental.

Love will let you let go,

Honey, let go with me.

This ain’t a fairytale, but maybe it may be.

I tapped out the beat on my knee. I never sang much a cappella but I could imagine the music in my head. Hardly a finished version, but the lyrics were the most important part right now.

Wild dreams and hot possibilities,

Not a love story, but maybe it may be.

I sang the whole song for him. It was short. I'd probably be adding another verse or two before I took it live. But it was from the heart, and I could feel it in my voice, every little bit of hope and longing and desire.

He must have heard it, too. I knew when I was really selling a song, I knew what my voice could do. So if this didn't get through to him, nothing else would.

Gathering all my hopes and laying them at your feet,

Not a love story, but maybe it may be.

That was it. I'd done my best. If he rejected me now I would have to let go, because that meant that there truly was nothing there. For him, at least.

"That was beautiful," he said. "I mean it."

"But?"

"But... fuck." I heard him take a deep breath. "You really want to start something here." It sounded as if he couldn't believe it.

"I want to try." When he didn't answer, I went on, "If you don't want to then you don't want to. I just had to put it all out there before giving up. And, well, there it is."

"Okay," he finally said with a great whoosh of air, like he'd been holding his breath. "Okay. Fuck, it's not like I can get you out of my head, anyway." He chuckled again. "For something that was supposed to be no more than a sex thing, this sure has gotten complicated."

I laughed at that. "Shit, Vaughn, sex is as good a place to start as any. The song's about a beginning, not a til-death-do-we-part."

"Yeah? So where would you like to start?"

I dropped back against my pillows, feeling light with relief. "Let's just... talk."

We kept that first conversation light and easy. And it really did feel like a first conversation - I learned some pretty basic things about him that I'd gone months without knowing. Like the fact that Vaughn was not his first name, it was his middle. His full name was Michael Vaughn Grayson, but he'd known so many Michaels growing up that he decided to drop it.

I told him about growing up in Philadelphia with just my mother and my sister, and how they both still lived there. Though they were in much nicer apartments than the one we'd grown up in - just because they wanted to remain in their home city didn't mean I'd let them live in anything but high style.

We stayed away from the heavier stuff - our respective scandals, his deployment. Those sorts of conversations could wait until we saw each other, face-to-face.

After ripping each others clothes off, of course.

I laid awake for several long minutes after finally saying goodbye and hanging up. A smile played across my lips. I felt oddly happy. Not that I wasn't happy with my life - I was damn near thrilled with it. But maybe this was what my mother had been nagging me about for so many years - that little empty hole in my life that I felt guilty for being sad over. And now Vaughn was squeezing his way in.

My good mood carried over into rehearsals the next day. We'd rented out a much larger studio so we could start practicing with the light show and getting those cues down. Every sound echoed through the huge space - every clack of my heels, every bar hummed.

Even Lexi noticed a difference when I showed up. "What put a smile on your face?" she asked. But her own smile immediately warped into a frown before I could say anything. "Did you see him again?"

Would the girl never get over it? "We spoke," I said primly.

"Zenaida, I really need you to give us a heads-up on this kind of thing," Lexi said, sighing heavily. "You know the tabloids love this shit and they're going to be begging us for details. We'll have to issue some sort of statement at some point."

"We're talking," I said, "That's all any of those nosy assholes need to know right now."

"But what kind of talking? We really ought to have some sort of meeting about-" Her voice tapered off as my blood rushed in my ears. Someone was in the studio that didn't belong there. Someone carrying a bouquet of yellow roses.

I drifted toward them like I was drawn by strings. "Who let him in here?!" I heard Lexi shout behind me. The security guys were already on him, hustling him toward the door while he looked at me over his shoulder.

It wasn't Camden. One of his cronies, then.

"Bitches," he spat as they shoved him hard. He stumbled out into the daylight - but not before hurling the flowers to the floor, sending them sliding in my direction. "This is how you treat your man's boys?" he shouted at me.

Then the door was slammed shut in his face.

One of my dancers retrieved the flowers before I could and marched to the nearest garbage can.

"Wait!" Shaking myself out of my daze, I caught up with her and grabbed the card out of the bouquet.

It said, "Glad you're finally coming around. Can't wait to hear the song. Love, Camden."
Fucking Camden. And fuck me and my fucking song!

I sighed. "I guess I need to put him in his place again."

“They’re just flowers,” Lexi said. “Maybe he’s just reaching out because he wants to work together. Didn’t you hear? The label-”

“Just flowers?” I pronounced each syllable, each letter, with all the disdain I could muster. “Just flowers?”

Lexi sighed and schooled her face into stillness. “We could hire more security.”

I'd let her do that. Absolutely. If I never saw another fucking yellow rose again, it would still be too soon.

But I
would
have to face him again. I'd have to tell him eye-to-eye that the song wasn't for him. Nothing else would convince him - and even that probably wouldn't be enough.
Way to go, Zenaida
. I'd never been the sort of girl to let my heart win out over my head, but now I'd really gone and done it.
It's going to be a long tour
.

◦◦◦

I didn't tell Vaughn about the flowers the next couple of times we spoke. He'd gotten a new job and was away for the time being, working a security gig for a buddy who was kind enough to hire him.

"Not sure how long I'll be," he said, "It's just some state politician doing speeches and rallies all over Rhode Island, but they keep changing the dates around."

"Well, it's a small state, so hopefully it won't take too long," I said.

"Yeah. Much as I'm liking this 'talking' thing we're doing, I can't wait to get my hands on you again."

"Oh?" I teased, "You don't want to take me out to dinner, or go dancing, or see a show? You just want to show up and maul me?"

"Yes," he said. His voice was a touch lower. What's he thinking about over there? "Fucking first. Dates after."

"That's a little backwards." I sounded a touch breathless myself. We hadn't really gone here in our conversations - not yet, even though it had been almost two weeks. We'd been trying to politely get to know each other a little better, talking about the things that we thought normal couples would talk about.

But there was nothing "normal" about either of us.

"We started out a little backwards, don't you think?" Yeah, his voice was definitely getting husky. And it was turning me on.

“Tell me what you’re wearing,” he said.

I was laying in bed in a nightshirt, but I said, “A thong and a lacy pink bra.”

“Liar.”

I sighed. “A shirt that reached me knees. No underwear, though.”

“I like that better.” I heard him grunt as if he was moving around.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking off my underwear, too.” I could picture it. Those thick thighs, that perfect cock - how I wished he was there in the room with me. I rubbed my wrist at the memory of the one and only time we’d fucked.