Backstage with Her Ex Read Online Free PDF Page B

to see a familiar face,’ Sasha breathed as she struggled to keep up along the elegant corridor.
    Velvet-embossed wallpaper in golden hues served as a backdrop to nineteen-twenties-style furniture. Petite bronze statuettes of dancers flanked the walls. The price of one of those would pay for the whole choir to fly to Manchester, first class. She was so out of her league, and then some. But, fingers clutching her briefcase, she determined to meet Nathan face to face as a music professional.
    â€˜We get a lot of familiar faces here, sweetheart, for a day or two.’ Giving her just enough time to process the ramifications of that statement, the bear opened the door.
    You’re nothing special , his feigned smile said as he looked her up and down. Standing aside to let her in, he bowed lightly, muttering, ‘Don’t get too comfortable.’
    Like that would happen. Especially with Mr Warm and Fuzzy here.
    She blinked once, twice, not knowing what was more impressive: the expansive suite with panoramic views across London, or the fact that Nate was in it, looking extremely comfortable, standing by the bar. Looking extremely gorgeous too. Relaxed and confident. In control of everything: his staff, his surroundings, his emotions.
    He’d grown in a way she hadn’t. At least she didn’t see herself like that—uber confident and all grown-up—even though she tried to be. He’d probably honed it from absorbing the adoration of thousands of fans, from years of live performances where self-belief was mandatory.
    But regardless of the man he was now she knew his essence, where he’d come from, what he was truly like—the good, the bad and the downright ugly.
    And yet, despite knowing what he was capable of, he was still strangely compelling to be with. Walking leisurely towards her, he smiled. Slim black jeans hung from slender hips, a black faded T-shirt hugged his toned frame.
    She didn’t have to guess what was under that T because she’d seen it over the years in the music press, smoky black and white images of Nate in various stages of undress, on CD covers that bordered on X-rated. She knew all about the sun-kissed carved abs, the thin line of dark hair... Her mouth dried.
    She jerked her head upwards. Big mistake.
    The moment she met his caramel-coated gaze her courage faltered. Why did he have to be so beautiful?
    Was it appropriate to walk over and kiss him on the cheek? Shake hands? But he saved her the worry by stepping into her space and placing a warm cheek against hers. His lips grazed her skin sending ripples of heat through her veins.
    â€˜Sasha. Thanks for coming.’
    â€˜Thank you...too.’ Excellent. Excellent start . Not .
    And then the room seemed to press in as his familiar scent washed over her. This was the kind of place he was used to now. So far from the tiny council-flat bedroom he’d shared with Marshall, littered with guitars and sheet music, posters on the wall of his favourite damaged rock heroes. And a photograph of her by his bed.
    Her throat filled. So many things she’d pushed to the back of her mind, or had simply forgotten. The honest sweetness of their first date. Their innocent journey to first love.
    And now this. Such abject luxury, no wonder he’d offered to write her a cheque without missing a heartbeat. But could high living change a man? Could it tame him?
    She’d read about his wild parties in Ibiza, the spats with paparazzi, riding his motorbike through a hotel reception. She guessed that really he was still the same man underneath the wealth.
    Leading her to a couch that would never fit into the whole of her flat, even if she knocked the walls down, he held a glass of beer and offered her a flute of champagne. ‘Drink?’
    â€˜Thanks. Nice place.’ She raised her eyebrows and gestured to the door. ‘Shame about the company you keep, though. Do you pay him to be rude?’
    â€˜Dario?’