Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
The urge to die trying.
Then his forearms stiffen, his hand gripping the glass too tightly. He swallows a big gulp of water and sets it back on the table. One readying breath later, he tells me, “Before we go any further, there’s something I need to ask you to do. I’ve been avoiding it. But it’s kind of…unavoidable.”
It’s the first time I’ve seen him so nervous that he can’t look me in the eyes. I have no guesses what it could be, but my gut drops when he says, “It might be a dealbreaker.”
6
TOM COBALT
I’ve never struggled so hard with this part of my life. Asking a friend to sign an NDA, no issue. Asking RJ to sign one kind of sucked, but I wasn’t dreading it like I’m about to be stranded alone on a leech-infested island.
I hate how much Phoenix’s answer to this stupid question will make or break my dreams. I’ve never had to rely so hard on one guy. He has all my hopes nestled in his hands—and granted, they look like strong, capable fucking hands—but I’m still holding my breath as soon as I ask, “Can you sign an NDA?”
He frowns like it doesn’t compute. Awesome.
“A non-disclosure agreement,” I clarify.
He glares. “I know what an NDA is, nepo baby. I’m trying to figure out why you would need one.” His intense eyes shift around the diner, then return to me. “It’s not like you’ve got adoring fans clamoring for your autograph.”
Okay, ouch.
But he’s not wrong. Duke’s on 10th is at half-capacity. The closest occupied booth is taken by my thirty-four-year-old bodyguard, Ian Wreath, who pretends to ignore us while sipping a drip coffee. The mic in his ear and cord clipped to the collar of his pressed button-down are a dead giveaway he’s private security, but Phoenix has paid zero attention to him.
I’ve gathered Phoenix hasn’t realized that guy is actually with me and he’s not just a random New Yorker ingesting his morning cup of Joe.
I’m not pointing him out.
When Phoenix first sat down, the mint and eucalyptus scent wafting off him nearly sent me over an edge. He looks so clean, like he spent half his morning raking his hands through his hair in the shower and scrubbing a washcloth down his body. I’m trying not to imagine him naked, but fail. Big fail.
It’s almost annoying that he didn’t show up here with halitosis and B.O.
Good hygiene is a baseline standard of mine, and I should be very fucking happy my new bandmate isn’t a walking garbage can.
Instead, I’m trying to thwart apprehension.
It doesn’t help I’m face-to-face with someone who looks willing to chainsaw me in half. He has this brooding intensity that pulls me out of a slouch. I keep feeling off-kilter around him. Like the ground beneath me is about to quake.
He’s not wearing a black baseball cap today. His dark hair is long enough to hang in his eyes, but it’s cut short around his neck. Mostly, I’m caught on his arms. How he’s threaded them over his hard chest. His biceps bulge against a long-sleeved, tight gray tee, and despite sitting upright, his knees are spread open again.
I can tell. Even seated in a booth.
I’ve been trying not to knock knees with him.
As I drag out the silence, I feel his leg jostling under the table. I like how it rattles the saltshaker.
“Unless I’m wrong,” Phoenix cuts into the quiet. “Your fans are waiting outside. Ready to maul you to death.” His brown-blue eyes are fixed on mine.
He knows he’s not wrong.
I don’t humor that scenario.
“The NDA really isn’t about me,” I explain. “Some people in my family have the type of fame that follows and stalks. I want to feel comfortable talking to you about everything, including them. I can’t do that unless you sign an NDA.” I ball up the paper wrapper from my straw. “Also, if you want any chance of being in the same room as my brothers, you’re going to have to sign it. My brother, Beckett, is about ten hundred times more private than I am.”
Phoenix will find this out himself. It’s almost dizzying bringing him in this fast. I can’t even imagine what a Beckett and Phoenix run-in will look like. I’ve barely conceptualized a Charlie and Phoenix combination.
I don’t typically bring guys around my two oldest brothers.
Not that it wouldn’t be entertaining to see their reactions. I just like support when it comes to decisions I make regarding guys I like, and Eliot delivers unwaveringly. In spades. I don’t need the naysayer brothers to pipe in.
Not that I’m hooking up with Phoenix. He is not that. I need to start thinking of him like Warner. My old bandmate was straight, and he knew all my brothers decently well. No big conflict. No issues.