“No, of course not,” she said. She didn’t add the fact that Noah hadn’t mentioned the one brother he should worry about. The former Navy SEAL named Michael.
Wanting to change the subject, she asked Jax if they were going to a recording studio to rehearse or to The Garden.
“Directly to The Garden,” he answered. “Xavier wants to show you the layout. He has a large suite, and you’ll probably rehearse there.”
The closer they came to The Garden, the more nervous she became. Her stomach was doing flip-flops.
“The last time Xavier and I were in Boston, there was a huge snowstorm,” Jax commented. He continued to talk about their trips to Boston until they were circling the street close to the entrance.
“When I pull up, two guards will accompany you to Xavier. Keep your head down and walk between them. You’ll be all right.”
“Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
“Sometimes a few rabid fans get past security, and they can be pretty aggressive. Since the concert isn’t until tomorrow night, there shouldn’t be any problems, but better to be prepared. We aren’t going in the front entrances.”
The secrecy added yet another layer to her nerves. A few minutes later they stopped at either the side or back entrance—she couldn’t tell which—and two big, muscular guards rushed forward to escort her. They wore black suits with white shirts and striped ties. The bulge under their jackets indicated they were armed. Yikes, she thought. Maybe she should have brought some firepower of her own after all. She wished now she had relented and let Michael come with her. He would get a kick out of all the security, and knowing him, he’d find ways to improve safety.
The guards nodded to her but didn’t speak. They led her down a maze of concrete floors, fluorescent ceiling lights, and beige walls. They passed one door after another after another. By the time they stopped in front of Xavier’s door, she had no idea where she was.
“I’m never going to be able to find a way out of here, am I?” she asked.
One of the guards smiled. “Probably not, but don’t worry. We’ll show you the way.” From his accent she thought he might be a born-and-raised Bostonian.
A young man in jeans and a gray XO concert T-shirt opened the door, and when the guards who’d escorted her remained in the hall, she turned to them and said, “Thank you, gentlemen.”
They looked surprised by her gratitude. Both nodded before the door was closed.
The suite was crowded with Xavier’s staff. She counted four women and twice that number of men spread around the sofas, tables, chairs, and two desks that filled the area. It was a warm inviting space with plush beige carpet and white walls. Bold, contemporary paintings added color.
The suite consisted of two large rooms. She wondered how many more staff members were in the other room and if Xavier had arrived yet.
Everyone stopped talking and stared at her when she walked in. They all seemed frozen, and it was horribly awkward. She didn’t know if she should introduce herself or wait for one of them to snap out of it.
She finally broke the silence. “Hello. I’m Isabel MacKenna.”
That seemed to do the trick. A man in his thirties, wearing a sport coat over his jeans, jumped to his feet, nearly overturning the desk chair in his haste, and rushed over to shake her hand. “Yes. Isabel MacKenna. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Then why do you all look so surprised?”
Xavier O’Dell answered her question. He walked in from the other room and stopped just inside the doorway. “You’re very pretty, Isabel,” he said, his voice deep and husky. “You took their breath away.”
Wow. Just plain old wow. Isabel didn’t know if she was gawking or not, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She could describe him in one word: perfection. He was tall and lean, yet muscular through his wide shoulders. He had dark hair, intense gray eyes, and a flawless bone structure the Greek gods would weep over. Even his lips were beautiful. She had seen him on the screen countless times, but he looked even more amazing in person. There should be a golden haze all around him, she thought.
Laurant was right. Xavier really was a sex god. The way he smiled and the way he moved . . .
there was a definite bad-boy allure about him. And dear God, his voice . . . it was so sensual. His voice alone could seduce a woman. It was certainly having an effect on her.
But he was no Michael. Xavier didn’t make her knees weak or her pulse quicken. He didn’t make her want to kill him, either, the way Michael did.
Now, why had that thought entered her head? Why was Michael always interfering?
Xavier shook her hand and quickly introduced her to the men and women in the room. She didn’t remember a single name, but at least she was able to stop staring at Xavier while she met each one.
An older gentleman stepped forward to shake her hand when Xavier introduced him. “This is Robert Davison. He’s one of my attorneys and has papers for you to take with you. Have your attorneys read them over and then sign if you agree with the terms. If not, we’ll negotiate. All right?”
“Yes, all right,” she agreed, then asked, “What are the papers for?”
“The purchase of your song,” he explained.
“Oh yes, of course.” She could feel her face heating up.
“We’ll rehearse first, and then I’ll show you the stage. It’s going to be a little overwhelming for you, I imagine.”
“She’s going to need a name, Xavier,” a young man with freckles and a warm smile announced.
Confused, she said, “I have a name. Isabel—”
“Isla. It’s spelled i-s-l-a, but pronounced ‘Eye-luh.’ That’s catchy.” He added, nodding,
“Memorable.”
“She’s already memorable,” another man said.
“What about El?” a woman with pink braces on her teeth suggested. “It’s just as catchy.”
Xavier raised his hand. “Isabel, these two are Calum and Amy. They’re part of my creative team.
They’re always looking for an angle.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll come up with some other nicknames if you don’t like Isla or El,” Amy promised.
Everyone started talking at the same time. Isabel was thoroughly bewildered. She couldn’t make sense out of what was happening. She had a name. She didn’t need another . . . did she?”
Xavier put a stop to their brainstorming. “Her name is Isabel. It’s a beautiful name and we’re not going to change it.” He then took her elbow and pulled her into the other room, shutting the door and leaving the chaos outside. It was time to go to work.