Giving Chase (Incendiary Ink #1)

24. Don’t Stop the Devil – Eliza

Don’t Stop the Devil

ELIZA

"Your phone is blowing up," Chase observes from my office couch, where he's sprawled with an amused smile. "Mine too."

"Mute it," I mutter, staring at my laptop screen. Every industry blog is running with the story. Photos from the shoot splashed across headlines, intercut with footage from the press conference. That clip from the Grammys is trending again – Chase kissing me on his way to accept Album of the Year, leaving me stunned in my seat as he took the stage.

Michelle bursts in without knocking. "Okay, so TMZ is running with 'Rock's Greatest Love Story Finally Confirmed.' Billboard's going with something more tasteful about your professional history. Rolling Stone wants an exclusive interview?—"

"No," Chase and I say in unison.

She grins. "God, you two are cute. Oh, and Justin's on line one."

I grab the phone before she's finished speaking. Chase sits up, watching me with soft eyes.

"Mom?" Justin sounds like he's trying not to laugh. "So that was quite a press conference."

"Shouldn't you be at rehearsal?"

"Are you kidding? The whole band's watching. You're all over social media. Also, that Grammy kiss is everywhere again." He pauses. "You know, when you told me Chase was finally clean, I had a feeling everything was about to change. Didn't expect him to announce it to the whole industry though."

I glance at Chase, who has the grace to look sheepish. "Yes, well..."

"I'm happy for you," Justin says softly. "Both of you. It's about damn time."

"Thank you, baby. How's the new song coming?"

"Better than my love life, apparently. Although watching you two might give me some good material."

"Goodbye, Justin."

His laugh follows me as I hang up. Chase raises an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

"Apparently my son's going to write songs about us."

He throws his head back laughing just as Michelle returns, tablet in hand.

"The board wants an emergency meeting," she announces.

"No current contract with the band," I remind her. "No conflict of interest."

"Oh, I know. I already sent them a very detailed email about that. Also reminded them that you two, ahem… maintained perfect professional boundaries for fifteen years while he actually was signed to the label." She smirks. "Even included a spreadsheet of the band's profit margins under your management."

"I love you," I tell her seriously.

"I know. Also, Will's on his way up. Something about Chase owing him money?"

Chase groans. "I may have bet him I'd never have the guts to go public."

"When did you make this bet?"

"2006?"

I shake my head, but can't help smiling. My phone buzzes again – more board members, industry contacts, probably some press. I ignore it in favor of watching Chase read something on his own phone, his smile growing.

"What?"

Chase holds up his screen. It's an old article about the Grammy incident, with a new comment from Mark: About time these two stopped pretending. Though after that Grammy kiss, who were they really fooling? #IndustrysBestKeptSecret #NotSoSecret

"I still can't believe you did that," I say, remembering the shock of his lips on mine, the roar of the crowd. "No warning, no hint..."

"You're lucky that's all I did. I had this whole speech planned about how Off the Record was really about?—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"What? Everyone knows that one's about you. The studio at 3 AM? The black dress with the broken zipper?"

Michelle clears her throat. We both start – I'd forgotten she was still there.

"As adorable as this is," she says, "we should probably draft a proper statement. Something professional about?—"

My office door bursts open again. Will strides in, hand already out. "Pay up, Avery. Eighteen years of interest on that bet."

Chase pulls out his wallet, grumbling. "You know, technically the bet was that I'd never tell her how I felt in public. The Grammy kiss should have counted."

"The Grammy kiss was a drunken impulse that you both played off as theatrical," Will counters. "This was a sober confession of twenty years of love. Very different thing."

"He's got you there," I agree.

Chase hands over what looks like several hundred dollars, then points at Will. "You knew. When I made that bet, you knew this would happen eventually."

"Course I did." Will pockets the money with a grin. "Who do you think's been listening to both of you pine for each other for two decades?"

My phone rings again. The board chairman's number.

"Want me to answer it?" Michelle offers.

I look at Chase, still arguing with Will about the terms of their ancient bet. At Michelle, fiercely protective and obviously delighted. At my screen filling with messages of support from industry friends who've watched our saga play out for years.

"No," I decide. "Let it go to voicemail. I'm busy having a personal life."

Chase's head whips around, his smile brilliant. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I stand, gathering my things. "In fact, I think I'm done for the day. The industry can wait until tomorrow to hear how we're going to 'handle' this."

"Ms. Kerr," he says, all fake scandal. "Are you playing hooky?"

"Mr. Avery," I match his tone, "I believe I am. Any objections?"

He's already reaching for his jacket. Will and Michelle exchange knowing looks.

"I'll handle the board," Michelle says. "You two... handle whatever this is."

"Twenty years of foreplay?" Will suggests.

"Out," I point at the door. "Both of you."

Their laughter follows us down the hall. Chase's hand finds mine as we wait for the elevator.

"You sure about this?" he asks softly. "Leaving the chaos for them to handle?"

I watch our joined reflection in the elevator doors like I always have, but now it’s different. It’s out in the open. "The chaos will still be there tomorrow. Right now..." I squeeze his hand. "Right now I just want to be us."

His smile is better than any headline.

"Us," he repeats. "I like the sound of that."

The elevator arrives with a soft ding. We step in together, leaving the industry explosion behind us.