Nothing to Lose

FOUR

FOUR

“Where have you been?” Jane screeched the moment Roxie walked into their apartment.

“Dinner with Porter. I told you I was—”

“We were calling and calling,” Toria said from the couch.

Jane hurried over and put an arm around her to rush her across the room.

“My phone died,” Roxie said. “What’s going…?”

The television. Talk at Sunset. The audience going wild. Oh, this was familiar. Zairn. Damn, he appeared through the curtain hot as ever. Some things would never change. The man was delicious. Even after a day of business, a night at the club, and screwing her a couple of times, he always managed to remain deliciously hot. Oh so hot.

He raised a hand in greeting, sending the rapture of those present through the roof. Drew Harvey went to meet him. The two men shook hands and exchanged a few quiet words on their walk to the couch.

With much less decorum, Jane pushed her onto the middle seat of their couch and sat down next to her. Toria waved the end of a phone charger in her face. Without taking her attention from the screen, Roxie dumped her purse and connected the phone to the charger.

“Zairn! Zairn!” Drew Harvey called over the audience, though that only got them cheering louder.

The host laughed. Zairn, by contrast, sat there wearing the smoldering smug expression that betrayed his confidence. He was getting exactly the reaction he expected; exactly the one he adored.

“Asshole,” she whispered, pulling her feet onto the couch to fold her legs in front of her.

“Why the hell didn’t we think about getting tickets?” Toria asked. “You could’ve gotten tickets!”

Maybe. No. Roxie couldn’t be anywhere near that studio.

“My friend,” Drew said, reaching over to pat Zairn’s knee as the audience calmed. “Geez, how are you not deaf already?”

“I live my life at this volume,” Zairn called over the audience and held up a flat hand to them. “Thank you. Thank you, that’s enough.”

The audience accepted his instruction and quieted. No surprise. He was like the people whisperer when he used that low, soothing voice.

“Wow,” Drew Harvey said. “That’s some superpower.”

Zairn raised a shoulder and sank back to relax on the couch. “Years of practice.”

“Controlling hordes of people in your clubs,” Harvey said. “Talking of controlling people, there’s supposed to be someone there next to you.” Both men looked at the vacant seat. The comedian at the other end of the couch fixated on it too. “You couldn’t persuade Miss Kyst to join you?”

As he turned back to the host, one side of Zairn’s mouth rose, but he licked his lips to hide the reaction. Something he frequently did, though it wasn’t often successful. Especially when she was the root of his amusement.

“No one persuades Miss Kyst to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

He straightened his tie over his shirt buttons, which made her look at it for the first time. “The tie,” she murmured.

It was the same one she’d tied for him on the day they met Greg and his colleagues in Boston.

“She didn’t want to come?” Drew Harvey asked.

“Miss Kyst has done plenty for Crimson,” Zairn said. “She prefers to deliver her messages through her stream.”

“Present tense?” the host asked. “Will she be continuing her streams? She was extremely popular and drove record numbers of users to your website.”

“I think she’s eager to return to life as normal.”

“You think? Have you discussed it with her?”

“Personally? No,” Zairn said. No, because who had time to talk when the alternative was crazy, hot s*x? “The Crimson Tour was taxing for all of us.”

“But you’re not getting a break. You’re on your way back to New York, to get the club ready for its New Year’s Eve opening, aren’t you?”

“Not yet,” Zairn said. “We have to check out a few potential sites for the next Crimson location, and there’s unfinished business in Tokyo.”

“That’s right. You missed Tokyo, Miss Kyst was ill.”

“That’s correct.”

“Calling her ‘Miss Kyst’ feels too formal. She’s been in our living rooms, our bedrooms. She became a friend to all of us. Do you think she’d object to us calling her Roxanne?”

“She wouldn’t. Though it’s not her name,” Zairn said. “She goes by Roxie.”

“Roxie, okay,” Harvey said. “Sorry, Roxie…” He glanced at the camera for the apology and then returned his focus to the guest. “There’s so much we have to get through that blurting this out is—”

“Roxie and I have dealt with many direct and insensitive questions about our relationship. We were friends. We had good fun. She’s an easy woman to get along with… most of the time.”

“And did you…” Drew raised his brows and bobbed his head, suggesting something more intimate.

“If I had, do you think I’d talk about it here on national television, Drew?” Zairn asked, easy and relaxed as he teased the host.

“She’s an attractive woman.”

“Gorgeous,” Zairn said. “Any man would be lucky to have her affection.”

“But you didn’t…”

Zairn laughed. “Let’s talk about your social life… when was the last time—”

“Okay,” Harvey said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Just doing my job here, man.”

The two of them laughed off the interaction, but Roxie noticed the twitch of tension in Zairn’s shoulder.

“Relax,” she whispered. “It’s not personal.”

Drew Harvey turned to the camera. “We have to take a quick break now, but there will be plenty more from Zairn next, don’t go anywhere.”

As the show went to break, her phone vibrated in her lap, indicating it was turning on again.

“Okay, now you have to dish the dirt,” Toria said.

“He got offended when Drew Harvey got her name wrong,” Jane said. “Did you notice that?”

Scrolling through her phone, Roxie found a certain woman’s name and pressed call.

It rang just four times before Astrid picked up. “Roxie?”

“Who chose the tie?” she asked with a smile on her face.

“I, uh… I don’t know. Are you watching?”

“Yes,” Roxie said. “He needs to relax. They’ll move on to Kesley and Vegas next.”

“I think he’s doing great,” Astrid said. “We worried he’d blow the whole interview. He’s been snappy all day.”

“Tired,” Roxie said, closing her eyes. That was no excuse; Zairn was used to operating on little sleep. “Are you flying out tonight?”

“In the morning,” Astrid said. “Kesley’s waiting at the club for him.” Of course she was. Kesley needed support and leaned on Zairn. Roxie understood. He was a capable guy and excelled at taking care of people. “Have you seen the pictures?”

“Pictures?” Roxie asked, frowning. “What pictures?”

“Of you and your ex going into his hotel earlier.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “Those people need to get a life.”

“Mr. Lomond wanted me to call you about additional security. If you’re going to be socializing with the man prosecuting the case, he thinks you should have close quarter protection.”

“I don’t care what he thinks,” Roxie said. “I won’t live my life in fear. Someone should take Joseph Gambatto down. What he did to that woman… what she lived through was horrific.”

“I don’t know what… Maybe you should talk to Mr. Lomond about it.”

“If Z wanted to talk to me, he wouldn’t have asked you to make the call,” Roxie said. Why was such a fury heating her blood? “I don’t want his security. I don’t want his help. I got on just fine before him and plan to do the same after him.”

She hung up and stood, extricating herself from the charger cord to march toward her room.

“Roxie!” Toria called after her.

“I don’t give a damn,” Roxie said without slowing down. “Watch, don’t watch. I’ve had my fill of Crimson and Zairn Lomond. I’m done. I’m through.”

There was no reason for her to be angry about Zairn’s words or him farming her out to Astrid. They needed space. On the day they’d parted, she’d declared there would be no calls from her to him. She had no intention of going back on her word. That was it. Over.