Viper (Fallen Angel #2)(47)
I missed him. Yeah, I missed Viper, and I practically ran out of my apartment and down the stairs to where he was waiting in the back seat of the car MGA had sent. But before I opened the door that led outside, I took in a deep breath. My stomach flipped at the thought of seeing the man I’d gone too long without. It almost felt like I had first-date jitters or something, which was crazy considering we wouldn’t exactly be alone on the ride to the record company’s offices.
My phone buzzed again.
Viper: You’ve got five seconds or I’m coming up.
Impatient fucker, I thought with a smile as I threw open the door and headed out toward the SUV idling by the curb. I jumped in the back seat, in the open spot beside Viper, and once my ass hit the leather, Killian said, “About time. I thought V was gonna go all Hulk and carry your ass down.”
I raised a brow at Viper. “You driving everyone nuts?”
“No more than usual,” he replied, giving me a smirk that told me exactly how much of a menace he’d actually been. As I gave him a long once-over, I noticed that despite his protests that MGA could kiss his ass, he’d dressed up for the meeting. Or as dressed up as Viper generally got—black boots, black jeans, and a black shirt he’d left half unbuttoned. It wouldn’t matter what he wore; the man would always be the most stunning person to walk into a room, and with the eyes of the other guys on us, I had to tear my own gaze away or risk the possibility of making a move.
As if he could sense my struggle, Viper placed his hand on my thigh, resting it there like it was the most normal thing in the world as the guys began to talk about what they’d been up to since we’d been back. I couldn’t hear any of it, though. My mind and every part of my body was now solely focused on the hand on my thigh. It was a possessive move, not one a simple fuck buddy would do, and I wondered if Viper even realized he’d done it.
One way to find out.
I moved my hand to cover his and waited for him to pull away. He was mid-conversation with Slade and didn’t flinch or even look my way, but lifted his fingers up, grabbing hold of mine and interlacing them.
Stunned, I swallowed, looking down at our hands. He’d only done this once before, back on the beach in Miami after I’d FaceTimed with Imogen and the conversation had turned a bit heavy. We were alone then, and we definitely weren’t alone now.
Feeling someone’s gaze on me, I looked up and met Killian’s eyes. Unlike me, he didn’t seem surprised by what he saw. In fact, his mouth tilted up slightly on one side, as if he were pleased by Viper’s actions. He winked at me before turning his attention back to what the others were saying, while I sat quiet and unmoving so Viper wouldn’t notice what he’d done and pull his hand away.
Twenty minutes passed in the blink of an eye, and once we arrived, we filed out of the SUV, and I missed the warmth of Viper’s hand immediately. But now wasn’t the time to think about that or him, because in a few minutes, I’d be coming face-to-face with Marshall Gellar. I craned my head back to look up at the Keystone Building, where MGA held their offices.
“I wonder which floor they’re on,” I murmured, mostly to myself.
“The top five,” Viper said. “Gellar’s office is the corner one right there.” He pointed to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows on the highest floor, and then we all made our way inside to go through security before loading into the elevator.
It was odd, but I’d felt more nervous about seeing Viper again than I did about meeting the man responsible for putting out our album. Maybe because I knew the others could handle whatever was lobbed our way, since they’d been working with him for so long.
Once the elevator doors opened, we were ushered into Mr. Gellar’s office, a massive room that overlooked the East River. His chair faced away from us, but from the sound of his voice, it seemed he was on a call, so we quietly took up spots in front of his desk and sat there taking in the gold and platinum albums adorning one wall. More than five of those belonged to TBD, and I let myself visualize our Fallen Angel album taking up residence beside them. It was gonna happen. I could feel it.
“Guys,” Gellar said, spinning around in his chair and setting his phone in the cradle. Then he stood and came around the desk to shake Killian’s hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting. You fellas need anything? Drinks?”
As he went down the line to greet each of us, we shook our heads, and when Gellar stopped in front of me, I mustered up some of the charm and confidence my parents and Imogen claimed I had.
The CEO of MGA was lean and tanned, with a headful of salt-and-pepper hair and the intimidating stare of someone who knew how to do business. His handshake conveyed that much as well—firm and unyielding.
“You must be Halo,” he said, smiling at me, but it wasn’t an overly friendly smile. It was more what I imagined a wolf looked like as he lorded over his prey.
“It’s good to finally meet you, Mr. Gellar,” I said, and a roar of laughter left him.
“Mr. Gellar? Call me Marshall.” He gestured for us to sit as he walked back to his oversized chair—throne, more like—and then he wasted no time getting down to business. “Gentlemen, I have to tell you, I’ve listened to your album…”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Killian holding his breath, and I found myself doing the same. Sure, we’d heard he liked some of the things we sent his way while we were in Miami, but shit, what if he’d changed his mind? The pressure in the room was intense.