“Yes, things are great, thank you.”
“I heard you two had quite the fight in the lobby of the hotel the other night.” His voice is quiet, searching, and pissing me off.
How the hell does he know about our fight?
“As two people are bound to do when they’re around each other twenty-four-seven without any space. I don’t need a fucking handler.”
“No one said you did. Zoey is simply there to facilitate all of your events and she just happened to mention that when she was leaving the ballroom and heading—”
“Call your dogs off me, Robert.” I shove up out of my seat and eat up what space there is in the tour bus. “How would you feel if someone had been documenting your and Sylvie’s every move?”
“They would have seen how a real relationship works,” he says quietly making me feel like an ass for even asking, but hell if I need a father figure. “That there are fights and you get irritated. That sometimes it’s not all roses but you get through it and everything in between.”
If I could bang my head on a brick wall, I would because he’s just not listening.
“You’re missing my point, mate. I warned you the last time you stuck your nose in my business that I won’t have it. Partners or not, you only get a small piece of me and Harlow. The rest is our damn business.”
“Wait. That’s brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Come again?”
“Still ad campaigns are good because they create an image people relate to, but it’s the watching people go through ups and downs that make people come back for more and care. You just gave me an idea about how to keep this campaign fresh and alive so that every time your events are reported on, they get new life.”
Jesus. Those words alone scare me. “What do you mean?”
“Sit tight on this. I need to make some phone calls and see if I can get something rolling for tomorrow. Then I need to—”
“Robert?”
“You’re gonna love it!”
The call disconnects.
And I groan.
The man really is going to be the death of me.
“Robert?” Harlow asks and then hisses when she takes her first sip of her coffee.
“How’d you guess?”
“The groan. The look on your face. Your protests. Those all might have given me a hint.” She sits on the arm of the couch. “He’s a sweetheart though.”
“Is that what you call it?” I chuckle a self-deprecating laugh.
“He is. Be nice to him. He’s harmless.”
Leave it to a woman to fall for his harmless routine when I know damn well how calculating he can be.
“You wouldn’t call him that if he was calling you every other day trying to meddle.”
“What I don’t understand is if he’s that much of a pain in your ass, then why did you ever let him invest in the first place?”
I stare at her for a beat, tempted to tell her to stop speaking before I make a stupid decision and let her in on what’s going on.
“It’s complicated,” I murmur.
“Most good things are.”
“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL him.”
Jack’s laugh rings through the phone and I know my best friend is taking some kind of sick pleasure in watching this all play out.
“It’s just one little reality TV-like bit.”
“Do I look like I want to be on reality-TV?” I ask.
“I can’t see you through the phone, but the ladies love you so if there is some kind of vote off the island type thing, you’re probably safe.”
“This isn’t funny.” I stare at the screen again, TRUST ROPES BONDING COURSE, where Robert made an appointment for one this afternoon.
Christ.
“It kind of is. What’s that saying about when lies catch up to you?”
“When lies catch up with you, you punch your best mate in the face? You mean that one?” I ask more than frustrated at the message I woke up to today from Robert. The one I haven’t even gotten a chance to tell Harlow about yet because she’s off getting her nails done and isn’t answering.
“Maybe it’ll be fun,” Jack says.
“Fun?” I laugh and run a hand through my hair. The thought alone has me sweating through this damn shirt. “Dangling from ropes high in the air and trusting that Harlow is going to catch me if I fall isn’t exactly the most comforting of feelings.”
“I sure hope you’ve treated her well or else… oops, she might forget to catch you.”
“Not fucking funny, Jacko.”
“Is it that hard for you to trust someone or—”
“Maybe it’s the fucking falling to the ground and breaking my neck part of it,” I snap and then pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration.
“Look at the bright side. You’ll be out of the tour bus, you’ll be getting some exercise, and you’ll get to see that fine ass of Harlow’s in a harness where I’m sure every curve is accentuated and then some.”
“I’ve already seen them, thank you very much.”
His laughter rings off. “No shit? That didn’t take you long at all. Then again, it’s you. Anytime after day one is considered a long time when it comes to Zane Phillips.”
“Well, if we’re going to play the part . . .”