CHAPTER 75

It's an unavoidable part of life that other men check out my fiancée.

She's beautiful enough to turn heads on the street, not to mention on stage.

Except when I shift out of my golf cart to see Frank Harvey checking out Emily on the private island where we're getting married, it feels very avoidable.

Before I can reach them, Jacob shifts in front of me and plants a wet hand on my chest. "Slow your roll, T." His voice, low and deliberate, is more of a warning than the words. "You look as if you want to rip his spine from his body Mortal Kombat-style."

My attention drags slowly to my friend's serious face. "Wanna help me?"

"Hell yeah. But you don't want me to help you because it will undo all the groundwork you've laid, and I assume Frank McDouchebag is one of the artists you and Eddie invited here to woo for your deal."

Jacob doesn't miss much.

I struggle for control. It's typically my superpower, but as I see Finn talking to her, control slips through my grasp like white sand from the beach behind me.

Because they were in LA together for several shows, while she was angry at me.

"I never thought I'd have to tell you this, but focus, man," Beck reminds me. "You got the girl."

I huff out a breath, conviction settling low in my gut.

I brush past him, pulling up between my fiancée and the man I evidently have to play nice with for the next three days.

"Frank," I say tightly, taking in the man who looks entirely comfortable in a white linen shirt.

The smile he flashes is one the cameras would love, one that would have every social media person coming in their pants and every Instagram advertiser toppling over one another to tie him to their brand.

"The last time I saw you, you were on a stage and she"-he winks at Emily, which I hate-"was following me to LA."

"We all make poor choices in school."

Emily shoots us both a look before turning to leave. "New bikini," she explains. "If there's a pissing contest, I don't want to get caught in the cross-stream."

A laugh that sounds distinctly like Jacob's comes from one of the patio chairs.

"You'll make a stunning bride," Frank calls after her.

I wonder if he'd be as relaxed after I shoved his head in the pool.

"Let me guess, the niceties are over?" he tosses, turning back to me with a smug grin.

He's standing between you and getting this deal done. And once you get this deal done... you can enjoy the next month worshipping the woman you love.

"After Shannon Cross died, Wicked fell into the hands of executives who cared more about money than artists. Eddie and I have plans to remedy that once our offer is accepted. Young artists are the ultimate future of the company, but you're its present. We can't do it without you." Each word is glass in my mouth.

"This must be a point of pride for the family you're marrying into," Frank says.

"We see an opportunity to help the industry, to save one of the most prominent labels."

"What if it doesn't want saving?"

My arms cross my chest as I try to guess his game. "Then you can go down with the ship. But there are other artists whose careers are only beginning, and I won't let them go without the chances we've both had. Neither you nor anyone else is going to keep me from that."

His eyes flicker, though I can't read the emotion beneath. Eventually, he laughs. "I admire you. If I was set to marry that woman this week"-he looks toward the villa-"I'd have nothing on my mind or my calendar except making her very, very happy."

Every muscle in me clenches.

Frank's gaze drops to my left hand, the one covered in ink, the one that's fucked up. "And it'd be so much easier seeing as how I have two good hands to please a woman."

He doesn't know everything going on, but the comments have my gut twisting sharply, in anger and guilt.

"Ty," Jacob calls, his voice a warning. "Let me get you a drink."

"I could use another too," Frank tosses over his shoulder.

When Frank turns back, I'm close to him. He takes a step backward on instinct, eyes widening before he can stop the reaction.

I reach for Frank's shirt with my good hand. "You thirsty? Let me help."

I shove him backward into the pool.

I'm pulling on a fresh shirt for dinner from the ones already hanging in the closet when I hear Emily's yelp from the other room. I sprint out to see her bent double over one of the huge trunks.

"That was not here before," she mutters.

"The staff brought them from the plane. I'll have them moved."

She lifts the lid, revealing more merchandise. "You have to sign all of it this week?"

"No," I say firmly. "The label didn't tell me they were sending it. It'll keep."

Emily rounds it and heads for me, still in her white towel, her hair dripping over her shoulders. Her cheeks are flushed from the shower.

Fuck, she's beautiful.

Her lips twitch. "You threw Frank in the pool."

I press a finger to her mouth, wincing. "Please don't say his name right now."

"You invited him."

"I didn't..." I groan because it's still my fault he's here. "I don't know how I ended up with that asshole sharing our island the week of my wedding."

"Easy," she murmurs. "My dad asked you to be part of a deal, and without consulting your future wife, you said yes. Through an unfortunate series of events, you invited my ex-mentor to our wedding."

It doesn't feel any better when she says it, and I curse as I pull her hips against mine. "Nothing ever happened between you?"

She arches a brow. "I told you it didn't."

"Tell me again," I whisper. The words are a demand, but my tone is desperate.

"I'm not feeding your ego." But her gaze drops to where my shirt hangs open, and her finger traces the lines of my pecs.

"It's not ego, Six. There's no pride between us."

"Good. What about jealousy?"

Every nerve ending tingles when she touches me, and I lick my lips. "Maybe a little."

She threads her fingers in my hair. "Remember when it was blue?"

I grin. "Yeah."

Emily's shoulders rise, then fall, with a heavy breath. "I liked it blue."

I get the sense she's not only talking about my hair. That she's remembering how things used to be.

Which is its own kind of fucked because they weren't simpler when we were friends fighting our attraction, our connection. They sure as hell weren't simpler when we were starting a relationship behind her dad's back.

Were they?

"I love you," I say. "More than anything. You know that."

Her tiny hesitation is a blip, the smallest slice of time, but it breaks my chest open.

To cover it up, I drag her against me. My lips claim hers, still warm from her shower and tasting of the sweetness of whatever she drank.

What starts off simple turns into something layered and complete in an instant, like a liquor with a million flavors right beneath the surface.

Emily's gorgeous and raw, kind and edgy, and above all... mine. My best friend, my fiancée, soon my wife.

No matter what Frank says.

I won't lose her. But my grip tightens as if I need to prove it.

"Let's skip dinner," I whisper against her lips.

"But our friends and family..."

"They'll be fine."

She's already pulling back, and I swallow the groan of protest as she glances toward the open doors at the back of the villa. Emily steps away, and I'd give a million fucking dollars for her to walk back here and let me make her come against the wall.

I want her. Not only physically, but that feels like the easiest starting point to fix whatever's gone wrong between us.

I follow her out onto our private patio. Lush green trees sway in the breeze, and Annie reknots the towel tighter around her breasts as she peers up into them.

"What is it?" I ask.

Little noises come from the trees-peeps and tweets. Emily circles the tree, craning her neck before her eyes go wide with delight.

"Look!" She points.

I stand behind her, following her directions to see a bright-orange bird hiding amongst the leaves.

"Beautiful," she murmurs. "I wonder what kind it is."

I wrap my arms around her from behind. "A cockblocker."

Her laugh tears out of her, and the bird, startled, flies away.

She stares out at the water, the sun hovering over the horizon. "I've never been as excited for a rehearsal as I am for this one. I want to watch the sun go down on the last day before we're married. I want to look at the sky, the stars, for that moment when the world stops and everything is right. And I want to do it with you."

My chest aches. "Sounds like heaven."

If only there wasn't a day of hell between me and that.