Page 18 of Silent Fidelity
But now, I was alone in that same massive bed. Spike was nowhere to be seen, and Richard’s side of the bed was cold, leaving a hollow feeling in my chest. I was still too raw to be left alone after a night like last night. I was a stage five clinger, and they both knew it. Usually, Spike and Richard waited until I was awake to leave the bed.
What changed? Was everything a lie? Had I been tricked by both of them?
My fucking chest was going to explode. As it was, I was already bleeding all over myself, my heart throbbing painfully and lodging itself in my throat. I was spiraling—fucking knew I was—and I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the overthinking and the fear that now, they were both walking away from me because turned out, I was too much fucking work.
Scrambling off the bed and damn near face planting when I got tangled up in the sheets, I hurriedly searched the floor for my clothes from the day before, but they were gone. The backpack Spike and I had packed the day before was sitting open on the dresser, but when I looked, I found it empty of either of our things.
Where the fuck were my clothes? I needed to go. Did they really take my clothes to humiliate me?
Snatching the sheet off the bed, I wrapped it around myself, my hands shaking. Why was it so fucking hard to breathe? Spike had promised he’d never leave me, but where the hell was he at now? Why?—
“Little one,” Richard’s soothing voice sounded from the doorway. I spun around to face him, breathing too fucking heavily. My head was swimming, but the sight of him had tears streaking down my cheeks in relief. He was here. He hadn’t left. He was dressed for work in fitted black slacks and a black dress shirt, his hair perfectly styled, but he hadn’t left me.
“Richard?” I croaked.
He hurried forward and wrapped his arms tight around me, crushing me to his chest. I sniffled, my fingers curling into the soft fabric of his dress shirt, uncaring if I wrinkled it.
“Easy now, little one,” he crooned, his hand coming up to cradle the back of my head. “It’s okay. Just breathe. We didn’t go anywhere. We were just trying to surprise you with breakfast in bed, and I had a phone call to do damage control for another artist. But we did not go anywhere,” he swore.
I sniffled and swiped at my cheeks. He tugged on my hair by the roots, forcing my head back enough for him to lean down and kiss me. I shivered, moaning when he licked into my mouth and yanked my hips even closer. His erection pressed against mine, and I groaned, wanting more.
“As hot as it is to watch you two together, breakfast is ready.”
Richard parted our lips, and I looked over at Spike. Immediately, he frowned, and his brows furrowed in concern as he marched over. Cradling my face in his hands, he gently stroked his calloused thumbs over my cheeks, wiping away my tears. “What happened?” he demanded, looking at Richard accusingly.
“Stupid panic attack,” I muttered, not wanting him upset with Richard, especially when Richard hadn’t done anything. “Thought you and Richard left.” But as I said it out loud, I realized how fucking stupid it sounded.
“Baby…” he breathed, then tugged me into his arms, pressing his cheek to mine. I swallowed thickly. “I’d never abandon you. You know that.”
“I know. I was just being stupid.”
“Your feelings and insecurities are not stupid,” Richard said. He pressed in behind me, his arms wrapping around both me and Spike. “Your clothes are in the bathroom. Why don’t you get dressed and join us for breakfast? I need to go into the office shortly and finish dealing with this shit show waiting on me, but after breakfast, you two are more than welcome to stay here, come with me, or go home. Whatever you want.”
“We probably need to go grocery shopping,” I said once they released me. Spike nodded in agreement.
“Haven’t been home in months, really. Fridge is empty and I’m not a fan of living on take out.”
“Okay,” Richard said simply. “We’ll decide later how to spend the night—whether here or at your place.” He kissed my temple. “Get dressed, little one, and come meet us in the living room.”
With that, he left. Spike cupped the back of my neck. “You good, baby?”
“I’m fine now,” I assured him. Leaning in, I pecked his lips. “I love you.”
His crooked grin was so fucking adorable. “I love you, too, baby.”
13
Richard
I popped two Excedrin tablets into my mouth, then quickly gulped it down with the scalding hot coffee on my desk. But the burn in my throat had nothing on the throbbing happening in my skull caused by this fucking problem that’d been dropped in my lap when I was supposed to be spending the week with my boys.
One of the newly signed pop artists had been caught not only drunk driving but then assaulting three officers, running from the fucking scene through the woods, and then causing a fight in the holding cell once they finally got her to the station.
Her behavior was a breach of contract, and I was damn well fucking letting her go from Nightwork Records. I let a lot slide when it came to criminal behavior, but putting other people’s lives at risk by drunk driving? It was an immediate deal breaker for me.
But we still had to deal with the fallout of signing a controversial artist, and damage control was doing my fucking head in.
To think I had to leave my boys for this shit. That just pissed me off even more. After the morning Kalin had, he needed comfort and reassurance and a shit ton of cuddles. And I couldn’t fucking give him any of that because one of my artists went off her fucking rocker.
