You're Still the One (20 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Morning came too soon.

Charlie blinked eyes that felt like sandpaper, idly wondering what time it was. His sleep had been for shit. He’d foregone REM to watch the beautiful woman in his arms long after her soft breaths had evened out. Her dark hair fanned on his pillow, her lithe legs wrapped around his. He’d memorized every detail. And as her smooth eyelids had twitched in a dream, he’d played back the powerful words she’d let slip in the dark.

Arabella was in love with him.

Christ
. Even now, it floored him. The emotion had been lingering in her eyes for a while, but he’d silently hoped he’d been wrong. Lying awake, he’d waited for the panic to set in. The fear that would inevitably send him running, the same one that had him out the door whenever a hookup even hinted she wanted more. It never came. Instead, his chest had filled with a rush of warmth. Arabella Stone, the most incredible woman he’d ever met, loved him. She actually loved
him
.

In spite of his past, regardless of his many screw-ups and countless flaws, she’d chosen him. The realization was as humbling as it was terrifying.

Love brought a new dimension to their situation. It meant hurting Arabella more when she discovered the truth. Charlie had no doubt that she’d find out eventually, that was the way his world worked, but even knowing that, and understanding that she’d soon hate him, he couldn’t bring himself to regret the last few months. Arabella had opened him up to possibilities and made his dreams a reality. She’d changed his life.

Charlie’s only regret was not being the man she believed him to be.

When that frantic call had come in, telling him Abby had been admitted for anxiety-induced vomiting, Charlie’s heart had sealed shut. His niece’s illness was on him. Maybe it hadn’t been his fault, but if he’d visited more, or never left Franklin to begin with, he would’ve spotted the signs. The two of them had always had a special bond, and Abby told him things she never shared with her parents. Had he been around, she would’ve told him about her depression, too.

Instead, he’d let himself become preoccupied with his career, pushing off visits and making excuses for not seeing his godchild, the person he’d vowed in a church to look out for. He’d failed Abby, plain and simple. Arabella wouldn’t be his next victim.

At the sound of her smooth legs sliding against his cotton sheets he glanced down, and Arabella blinked her doe eyes open. “Mmm. Morning. What time is it?”

He brushed her hair away from her forehead and looked around the room. “Hell if I know. I don’t keep a clock in here. I’ve always just used my phone.”

She smiled sleepily and yawned. “Me, too.”

Watching her stretch her long limbs was a test in self-control, but Charlie kept his urges in check. While he would’ve loved nothing more than to spread her thighs and lose himself in her for another couple hours, the sunlight was already making itself known around the window, and he needed to check his phone. He’d made Abby a promise that she could call him, day or night, and he’d always be there.

Reluctantly, he slid out from beneath the sheet while Arabella rolled to grab her phone from his nightstand. Fucking technology. They were all addicted. Most of the time, Charlie hated his phone. It only ever seemed to bring bad news, schedule changes, or tension.

Shaking his head, he stared at the darkened screen with one eye closed. It took him a minute to remember the text he’d gotten at the club. “Oh, shit. I forgot to turn my phone back on.”

Arabella’s eyebrows were drawn together. “Yeah, I did, too.” As she spoke, her device jumped to life, followed by Charlie’s, chirping and lighting up like a pair of freaking disco balls.

The missed calls from Tyler honestly didn’t worry him. His friend always called when he had a new song idea, and he’d understand Charlie not getting back right away. The ones from their agent, Nolan, gave him pause, but even they could be explained away. It was the repeated calls from Blue’s publicist that had dread sinking like a stone in his stomach.

“What in the world?” Tearing his eyes off his phone, Charlie met Arabella’s wide-eyed gaze. “Lana has been blowing up my phone since dawn.
Call me. Are you OK?
And the last text just says,
I’m worried.
What on earth is she talking about?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have a clue.”

But he did have a guess. A horrible, pain-in-the-gut type of guess.

The phone in his hand went off—Tyler again—and this time, Charlie answered. “What the hell’s going on?”

If his friend was surprised by the abrupt greeting, he didn’t show it. “Dude, I take it you haven’t seen them yet?”

Shit. That
didn’t sound good. “Seen what?”

Tyler released a heavy breath. “I’m sorry, man, but someone leaked a bunch of pictures from the Fourth of July. We’re looking into it, seeing who sold us out. Cane’s threatening to tear someone apart if it turns out to be one of our so-called friends.”

Charlie swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced at Arabella. “Pictures of what, exactly?” Her brown eyes widened, and he hated the questioning look he saw there. He couldn’t really blame her for fearing the worst—that he’d been caught out with another woman.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t considered an even worse fate.

“Hazy pictures of you and Arabella,” Tyler confirmed. “They’re not the best, but it’s obvious who the two of you are, and that you’re in the middle of an, er…intimate moment. My guess is it happened when we were out front prepping the fireworks?”

Charlie closed his eyes and, like a jackass, nodded, not realizing until Tyler called his name again that he couldn’t see him. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

“Damn. I’m sorry, man.”

Tyler was quiet for a few seconds, and Charlie heard Sherry on the other end apologize, too. They had nothing to be sorry about
.
He was the one who did this. He’d brought someone pure and good into his world, and this was what happened.

“Listen, you take care of Arabella, okay? I’ll see what I can do to calm down Arianne and Nolan, at least for the next hour, and give you a chance to talk to Stone.”

Fuck.
Charlie scrubbed a hand across his face. It just kept getting better. How could he forget about the man holding his future in his hands?

“Right. Thanks, man.” Then, staring at Arabella, he said, “Can you send over the link so we can see the pictures for ourselves?”

Her face blanched, and it was like he’d been punched in his gut. This was what he’d wanted to protect her from. The poison brought by being near him. It was the reason he’d tried so hard to stay away.

“Er, about that.” Tyler hesitated, which was never a good sign. His best friend had dealt with a shit-ton of scrutiny and speculation surrounding his marriage to Sherry. If
he
thought this was bad, then it was. “It’s not only pictures that are posted. There’s an article, too.”

Charlie sank onto the mattress, clutching his phone. “Give me the highlights.”

“Along with her being outed as Stone’s daughter, they also go into the fact that she’s an intern at the recording studio you technically co-own. There’s some implication about sexual favors, inappropriate office relations, and even hints suggesting she didn’t score the position based on her merits, but, you know, on her…”

Back.
Tyler didn’t say it, but he may as well have. A red haze clouded Charlie’s vision.

Cursing, he turned around and punched a hole in the wall. Pain radiated through his knuckles, but he barely felt it. Whoever sold them out, though, was in for a world of hurt.

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

Disconnecting the call, Charlie switched over to the web browser, ignoring the throbbing in his fist. Arabella crawled over beside him and cradled his hand in her lap, gently squeezing it between each of hers and staring at him, silently begging him to look at her. But he couldn’t. He’d done this to her. He’d brought this hell onto her front doorstep, probably literally, and he couldn’t look her in the eyes until he knew exactly what they were dealing with.

It didn’t take long to find out.

Naughty Office Hijinks: Country’s Bad Boy Bassist Caught in Lip-lock with Nashville’s Darling.

Scanning the article, he saw it quickly went from bad to worse. It referenced his former scandal with the mayor’s daughter, trying to tie Maddie and Arabella into some sort of pattern. Charlie didn’t stop Arabella when he felt her begin reading over his shoulder. He just closed his eyes and listened to her quickened breaths, knowing he was the cause of her pain.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault.” When Charlie scoffed and opened his eyes, he found hers overflowing with tears. “Obviously I’m mortified, but you didn’t do this. I lost my head in Cane’s backyard every bit as much as you did, if not more. I’ve grown up around this industry. I know how it works. You’re never safe or truly alone. This is on me, too.”

Then she laughed, a painful, blubbering sound that killed something inside him. “So much for earning my name and respect, huh?” Arabella hung her head. “The one thing I thought I could do right, to go out and prove my worth based on merit, and now all anyone will remember is that I was fooling around with the boss. Related to one, sleeping with the other.” Her slender shoulders shook. “Talk about a screwed-up pattern.”

Charlie wanted to scream. The comparison between her and Maddie, publicly shaming Arabella, hit him exactly where it hurt. The tabloid couldn’t have targeted him better if they’d tried. They had wanted him leveled, and they succeeded.

Over the last nine weeks, he’d actually begun to think he was more than a perpetual screw-up, better than a loser. That he could possibly offer Arabella a life beyond the summer if the band took a hiatus or if she still wanted him after the tour. If she could forgive him for the secrets. But he’d been right before. He didn’t deserve those things, and now, he hadn’t only hurt himself or the kind mayor’s daughter who’d simply been trying to help him.

This time, he hurt the one person in his life who meant the most.

…

Her phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Arabella sent Lana a one word text that said:
Soon.
She wasn’t ready to talk yet, not to Lana, not to Sherry, and especially not to her dad, who’d begun calling incessantly shortly after they’d read the article on Charlie’s phone.

What was she supposed to say? That she’d messed up? That despite his actions to prevent it, she’d somehow wound up in the news anyway? Sorry just didn’t seem to cover it.

As CEO, her dad knew that the press could make or break an album, a tour, or an entire career, and at best, he tolerated their presence as a necessary evil. But that was why he’d always done everything he could to shelter her from their scrutiny.

Arabella Stone was an heiress to a music empire and the surviving child of a beloved icon. Of course the media was curious about her, but her dad had always guarded her privacy at all costs, flat-out refusing to discuss her in interviews. He took her with him to industry events, mostly so they could at least spend
some
time together, and they smiled for the requisite pictures, but until now her biggest scandal involved an unfortunate zit the night Blue was inducted into the Grand Ole Opry.

Yet, here she was, in the center of the biggest storm ever to hit Belle Meade Records, and it was all her fault.

Charlie’s phone went off again and he tossed it on the bed. “It’s Arianne.” He growled his frustration and plowed his fingers through his hair. “She wants to know how the band should respond.”

Ouch. Not how she and Charlie should respond, together, as a couple. How the
band
should respond. Arabella wrapped her arms tight around her waist.

It was silly, hoping that Charlie would suddenly step up and admit they were in a real relationship. Ever since Tyler called, he’d been silent, standing off to the side and stewing in his head. Barely even touching her.

Charlie was always hard on himself, shouldering the weight of the world, but he had to be blaming her, too. Her romantic delusions and juvenile list brought this disaster down on their heads. But knowing he was probably angry didn’t stop her from wanting Charlie to let her in.

While they both stared at the chirping phone on the mattress, Ella’s rang again in her hand. “It’s my dad,” she murmured, which made this call number one hundred and eleven.

The thick knot in his throat bobbed, and a strange look entered his eyes. “I’ll give you two some privacy.” Before she could argue or even respond, he grabbed up his phone and strolled out the door.

What the hell?

The phone rang again in her hand, and she knew she had to answer. But the second they hung up, she and Charlie were having words. She pressed accept. “Hi, Dad.”

“Princess? Are you all right?”

She leaned against the bedroom wall for support.
No.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good.” The sound of a deep breath filled her ear. The calm before the storm. When he was ready to speak again, Ella would be back to being six years old.

“How could you be so irresponsible?” he barked through the line, and Arabella flinched. “Do you realize how bad this looks for the label? For
you
? I warned you not to lose your head around that man, didn’t I? I knew his reputation and I still—”

“Stop it right there, Daddy. This isn’t Charlie’s fault. When are you going to see that I’m a grown woman who can make her own mistakes? Charlie has been nothing but good to me ever since I showed up here. If you got to know him, the real him, you’d see he’s so much more than what the papers want people to believe. If you’d give him a chance you’d—”