At No Man's Command Page 14

  Aiesha made him feel passion.

  She made him feel alive.

  She made him feel like a man who could take on the world.

  He loved her. He knew it as certainly as he knew he was sitting there watching her win over the crowd. She was tugging on everyone’s heartstrings. He could see women dabbing at the corners of their eyes with tissues. He could see grown men swallowing. Choking on suppressed emotion.

  This was what she was meant to do. To sing like an angel, to play her music to make people feel in touch with their emotions. What a waste of her talent to sing to a disinterested audience in a lounge bar. Why hadn’t he stepped in before and got her out of there? Hadn’t she been crying out for help since she came home with his mother? He had turned his back on her. Rejected her, just like everyone else had done.

  All that was going to change. He would ask her to marry him, this time without interruption. He would get down on bended knee and tell her how much he loved her. They would build a future together. Have a family together. The family she had missed out on. The family he would have loved to grow up with if things had been different.

  He thought of their children, a little girl with sparkling grey eyes and a cheeky smile, or a little boy with a serious expression and dark blue eyes.

  He wanted it all.

  He wanted to make her happy. To make up for her miserable childhood, for all the disappointments and heartbreaks she had experienced.

  He would be her knight in shining armour. He would be her Prince Charming. He would be her defender. Her protector. Her best friend and her lover. She would no longer have to fight her corner with that hard don’t-mess-with-me look in her eyes.

  He would make her feel safe.

  He would make her feel loved.

  * * *

  Aiesha stood and took a bow after her performance was over. The applause was rapturous. She had never heard anything like it. She wanted to check behind her to see if they were clapping for someone else. Surely it couldn’t be her they were applauding? She had played her own songs. Why? Because she hadn’t wanted to bring any hint of Vegas showgirl into the ballroom. This was her one and only chance to show everyone what she was capable of.

  She had played each composition with her heart behind every word and cadence. She had never done that before. Opened her heart fully to the music, to the audience. To James. She had used her music to reach across the room to tell him what she couldn’t say in person. Hadn’t had the courage to say when he spoke to her earlier. Was he serious about making their relationship real? What did he mean? Did he want to make it permanent? Had she imagined the earnestness in his dark blue gaze?

  What did it matter whether he was earnest or not? She couldn’t bring him down by continuing their relationship. How long before a living skeleton popped out of her family closet and brought more shame and embarrassment to him? Even more was at stake now. He had the Valquez deal to consider. Her background was never going to go away. It would always be there. There would always be a journalist unscrupulous enough to rake over her past. It was better to leave before the real damage was done. Before her hopes got too high. Before she dropped her guard low enough for James to see how she felt about him...

  Cameras flashed and the room was abuzz as she made her way back to the table where James—along with everyone else—was giving her a standing ovation.

  He gathered her in his arms and held her close. ‘You were amazing, darling,’ he said. ‘Truly amazing.’

  Aiesha gave a self-deprecating grimace. ‘I missed a key change in that first bracket. I hope there were no musos in the crowd. So amateur.’

  He held her by the hands, looking at her with a thoughtful gaze. ‘You’re always doing that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Putting yourself down.’

  ‘Yeah, well, best to get in first is my take on that.’

  ‘Miss Adams?’ A man came over with a business card in his hand. ‘I’m George Bassleton. I’m a talent scout for a recording studio in London. I manage recording contracts for up-and-coming musicians. Would you be interested in coming into the studio for a sound test?’

  Aiesha took the card with a hand that was close to shaking. ‘I... Thank you.’

  ‘You could be the next big thing in music,’ George Bassleton said. ‘The new Amy Winehouse or Norah Jones. You have a lot of soul in your voice. It’s unique. Call me when you’re back in London. I’ll set something up.’

  James smiled at her once the man had moved back to his own table. ‘See? What did I tell you? You’re a star in the making.’

  She whooshed out a quick breath. ‘You reckon I could slip out and take a breather for a minute? All this attention is going to my head.’

  ‘Come on.’ He took her by the hand. ‘I know just the place.’

  Aiesha followed him to a quiet alcove behind a huge flower arrangement where two velvet-covered chairs and a small brass-inlaid drum table were situated. James had organised a waiter to bring an ice bucket and champagne as well as a long, cool mineral water with a twist of lime. He waited until she had drained the mineral water before he got down on bended knee in front of her chair. ‘What are you doing?’ she said, glancing around the legs of her chair. ‘Have you lost something down there?’

  He took her hands in his. ‘I almost did lose something. You.’

  Aiesha chewed at her dust-dry lips. Time to get the mask back on, even if it didn’t feel as comfortable as it used to. ‘Hey, I know my music is a tad sentimental and all that but you’re really spooking me. It looks like you’re about to propose to me, which would be a really dumb thing to do for a guy in your situation.’

  His brows came together. ‘Why?’

  She gave one of her tinny laughs. ‘You and me? Are you nuts? We’d kill each other before the honeymoon was over. Nice proposal, though.’

  His hands gripped hers. ‘Aiesha, I love you. I’m not sure when I started loving you. It just...happened. I want to marry you. I mean it. This isn’t a joke or a set-up. I’m serious. I want you to be my wife.’

  Aiesha got to her feet, almost knocking him off balance in the process. ‘But here’s the thing. I don’t love you.’

  He got to his feet and took her firmly by the shoulders. ‘That’s a lie. You do love me. I see it in your eyes. I feel it when we make love. You love me but you’re too scared to say it because, hell, I don’t know why. Maybe you’ve never had anyone love you before. But I love you. My mother loves you. You’re the woman I’ve been waiting for all my life.’

  Aiesha wanted to say it. She ached to say it. But the words were trapped in her chest. Years of heartbreak and disappointment and crushed hopes had buried them so deep she couldn’t access them. She had loved her mother. She had loved Archie. But both had been ripped away from her, tearing her heart out of her chest each time, leaving a gaping, empty hole that still pulsed and throbbed with pain.

  It was better to get out now while she still could. James would get over it. He would find some other girl from his nice, neat, ordered world.

  ‘I’m sorry, James.’ She steeled her gaze and iced what remained of her heart. ‘Believe me, it’s for the best. You’re a nice guy and all that, but you’re too nice. I’m already feeling bored.’

  His frown was so heavy it closed the distance between his glittering eyes. ‘I don’t believe you. You want what I want. I know you do. Why won’t you admit it?’

  ‘Let’s not make a scene,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t be good for your image. Howard Sherwood might change his mind about recommending you to his posh polo-playing pals.’

  ‘Do you think I give a freaking toss for that?’ he said. ‘It’s you I care about. I’d give it all up for you. All of it.’

  Aiesha wondered if he knew how close he would be to losing it all if she stayed in his life. No one wanted bad b
lood. Not in their family. Not in their social circle. Not in their business dealings. What would happen to his squillion-dollar deal if her father or stepfather gave a tell-all interview to the press? She was surprised one or both hadn’t already done so. There was money in it. Big money. The shame would be back in James’s life. Shame she had brought in like dirty baggage. She couldn’t escape her past. It would always be there like a horrible spectre just waiting for the worst possible moment to appear. ‘I’m going to the powder room,’ she said. ‘I’ll meet you back in the ballroom. We can talk about this later.’

  His eyes took on a cynical hardness. ‘You think I’m that stupid? You’re going to run away as soon as I turn my back. That’s what cowards do, Aiesha. I thought you were stronger than that. Tougher. Seems I was wrong.’

  She stood straight and tall and determined before him. ‘I’m not a coward.’ I’m doing this for you. Can’t you see that? ‘Don’t you dare call me a coward.’

  ‘Go on, then,’ he said through tightened lips. ‘Go. Run away from what frightens you. See how far you get before you realise you’ve run away from everything that matters to you.’

  ‘You don’t matter to me, James,’ she said with feigned cold, hard indifference. ‘Your money matters to me. It’s all I ever wanted from you or any man.’ She put on her bad-girl smirk. ‘Maybe I could look up your father. At least I’m legal now. Do you have his number?’

  His jaw worked for a moment, his eyes turning blue-black with disgust. ‘Find it yourself.’ And, with that, he turned on his heel and left.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Two weeks later...

  JAMES LOOKED AT his phone for the fiftieth time. No missed calls. No text messages. He knew he was being stubborn in refusing to reach out to Aiesha. But he wanted her to stop the game playing. He should never have fallen for that crack about his father. Of course she wouldn’t contact his father—he was too busy sunning himself on the beach at an exclusive resort in Barbados with not one, but two girls half his age.

  James pushed a hand through his hair. Even his mother was having a better love life than him. She was holidaying with Richard in outback Australia, camping under the stars while he was sitting here brooding over the one that got away.

  The press had done their thing over his broken engagement with Aiesha. The speculation had been excruciating but he had done his best to ignore it. He had more important things to worry about. He wanted Aiesha to come to him. To reach out to him. He had offered her his heart and she had tossed it aside like a toy she had finished playing with.

  Had he got it wrong about her? Had she been playing him for a fool the whole time? He thought of the way they had made love. Surely he hadn’t imagined that once-in-a-lifetime intimacy. What about the way she had told him of her worst nightmares and fears? She had opened herself to him in a way she had never done to anyone else. He was sure of it. He knew her. He loved her.

  He pushed back from his desk with a muttered curse. How long was this going to take? He was a patient man but this was getting way past ridiculous. He missed her. He ached to be with her, especially now as her career was about to take off. He’d read about her recording contract in the press. She had her first concert tonight in Berlin as a supporting act for a big-name band who was on a comeback tour. It was massive exposure for her. According to what he’d gathered from the press, if tonight was a success she would be joining the band on the rest of their world tour.

  His phone flashed on the desk with an incoming message. He snatched it up but when he looked at the screen it wasn’t a text, but a news feed coming through on social media. His gut clenched when he read through the article that had been tweeted. Aiesha’s stepfather had given a warts-and-all interview to the press. It was nothing but a pack of lies. It disgusted him to read such trash about someone he loved so much. And of course the journalist had taken it one step further by including photos of his father and Aiesha’s role in his parents’ divorce. There was even a photo of her biological father outside the court where he had been sentenced to prison. The shame of it might derail her on her big night. Who would be there to protect her from the fallout? Who would be there to comfort her? To stop her having a meltdown in case it all got too much?

  He clicked on his computer screen to bring up a flight booking.

  He would.

  * * *

  ‘Miss Adams?’ The events manager, Kate Greenhill, popped her head around the dressing room door at the concert hall in Berlin. ‘You’re on in five minutes.’

  Aiesha adjusted her droplet earrings, trying to fight the ants’ nest of nerves in her belly. She would have to get used to this if she was asked to join the rest of the tour. Nerves. Panic. Doubt. What if she missed a note? What if her voice froze? What if the audience hated her? ‘Thanks, Kate. What’s the crowd like?’

  Kate grinned at her in the light bulb-lined mirror. ‘Massive. A sell-out. To be honest, I think they’re here to hear you, not the band. The boys won’t be too happy about that. This is supposed to be their comeback chance.’

  Aiesha knew she should be feeling satisfied. Proud of what she had achieved in spite of all the setbacks in her life. She had been booked as the supporting act for the opening concert of the band’s reunion tour. She had an album in production. She had the prospect of fans. Fame. Fortune.

  But she was lonely.

  Desperately, achingly lonely.

  James hadn’t contacted her. Not once. She knew it was for the best. He had to distance himself from her, especially now. Her stepfather had finally sold his story to the press. She suspected he had waited until now so he could go for collateral damage. He couldn’t have timed it better. The lurid tale of her being a smart-mouthed teenage tease who had tried to seduce him had gone viral. The press had subsequently sourced photos from all over the place. It had stirred up renewed interest in the scandal with James’s father, which would cause enormous embarrassment and hurt to Louise and James. There was even a photo of Aiesha’s father being led out of court on the day he was sentenced.

  Lovely. Just lovely.

  Her business manager/publicist assured her that any publicity was good while she was building her career as a solo artist, but Aiesha wasn’t so sure. She wanted to distance herself from her past. She wanted to be known for her music, not for her dodgy bloodline or step-relatives or her past behaviour. It would be different if she were a rock-and-roll chick. But she wasn’t. She was a love-song and ballad singer with a hint of blues and jazz.

  Louise Challender had sent her roses and a sweet message. Aiesha had held the card against her chest and cried so much the make-up artist had hysterics.

  The card said: ‘I always knew you would make it. Love you, Louise.’

  But she hadn’t made it. Not yet. Maybe not ever if the news of her past kept resurfacing like a bad smell at a perfume launch.

  Kate popped her head back around the door. ‘Two minutes.’

  Aiesha let out a rattling breath. She hadn’t done her vocal warm-up. She hadn’t focused. She wasn’t prepared. This was not how she’d thought it would be. She loved writing songs; she loved being in the recording studio working with the team to produce the best tracks she could. But singing her songs in front of huge crowds was not the thrill she’d thought it would be. What was the point of singing those heartfelt words when the only person she wanted to hear them wasn’t in the audience?

  The crowd roared as Aiesha came out to the spotlight, the beam so strong she could only make out the faces in the first few rows. She sat down at the piano, took a deep breath and went into the routine she had planned with her agent.

  But then, towards the end of her performance, she turned on the piano stool and trained her gaze to the sea of unseen faces at the back. ‘This song is a new one. No one has heard it before now.’ She blinked to stem a sudden rush of tears. ‘It’s called “The Love I Ha
d to Let Go.”’

  The roar when the song was over was deafening. Aiesha got up from the piano and took a bow. She had three standing ovations. As she performed each follow-up song she kept reminding herself: This is what you wanted. This is your moment. You’ve wanted this since you were five years old. Enjoy it, for pity’s sake.

  It was supposed to be the triumph of her life. But as she walked back through the bowels of the stage set to her dressing room she felt empty...like a deflated balloon at a children’s party. Useless.

  Kate came in while Aiesha was taking off her make-up. ‘Um, there’s someone here to see you.’

  Aiesha put the discarded facial wipe in the bin next to her chair. ‘I told you before. I’m not doing any press interviews.’

  ‘He’s not a journalist,’ Kate said.

  Aiesha swivelled to look at her. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It’s me,’ James said from the door.

  Aiesha swallowed. Put her hand on her stomach to stop it from falling even further. ‘Erm...would you leave us for a minute, Kate? This won’t take long.’

  ‘Sure.’ Kate smiled brightly. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Challender.’

  ‘You, too, Kate.’

  The silence was as deafening as the applause had been only a few minutes ago.

  Aiesha rolled her lips together, searching for something to say. ‘You should’ve told me you were coming. I could’ve got you complimentary tickets.’

  His dark blue eyes held hers in an unreadable lock. ‘You know me. I don’t mind paying.’

  Her cheeks still had a layer of bronzer on them but, even so, she was sure he would know she was blushing. ‘So, what brings you here? Did you have business in Berlin? It’s a lovely city, isn’t it? I’ve always wanted to come here. It’s weird because now I’m here I can’t walk down the street without worrying someone will recognise me from the tour poster.’ She was talking too much but at least it filled that ghastly silence. ‘That’s the price you pay for fame, huh?’