I Want You to Want Me (Rock Star Romance #2) (34 page)

Oh, and hang on. She’d spent last night
packing
for her boss. Yes, that meant handling his black silk boxers.

Not only that, but this trip meant more than assisting Irwin. She’d gotten him to agree to let her go off and discover some bands of her own. So she could finally get that promotion. But now, the day before departure, he was telling her she couldn’t go. Because . . .

“Wait a minute. You want me to
babysit
?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not. You’re not changing nappies. You just need to look after her.”

“You want me to babysit your daughter.” She said it dully, lowering herself onto the plush leather couch. “I’m twenty-five years old, I’ve worked for you for eight years—” She flashed him a look. “Even as a high school intern I did more for you than your own secretary. And your best use for me is babysitting.”

“You make it sound so trivial. This is my daughter we’re talking about. And you’re more like a mother to her than her own mother.”

“I’m four years older than her. I’m not like her mother.”

“No, you’re better than her mother. And something’s off with her.”

Emmie narrowed her gaze.

“More so than usual. You heard her. She’s all screechy.” His phone buzzed, and he quickly answered it.

Coward.

She needed to get a handle on this situation. Heading to the window, she glanced out, pressing close to look down to the street twenty-seven floors below. If she focused on the steady stream of pedestrian traffic, the yellow cabs, the exhaust-spewing buses, she could tell herself he really was just looking out for his daughter. But she knew better. It was so much more than that.

Oh, hell, she couldn’t hold it back. The unbearable pain of being shut out again rolled in and threatened to just
crush
her. God, it hurt.

She wanted in so badly. Why was it so elusive? All these feelings . . . God, it was her childhood all over again. Being shut out of her dad’s world for not being creative enough, for not really
getting
him, had made her too sensitive to these slights. Because, truthfully? Artists didn’t have a lock on creativity. She had it, too, just in other ways. The whole reason Irwin valued her as his assistant was for her ability to think outside the box. She’d proven herself an Amoeba a hundred times over. So why did he hold her back? Sure, he needed her in this role as his assistant. But she could do so much more.

She knew she was lucky to work for the top A&R guy in the business. At the best record company in the world. She didn’t take it for granted, but she also knew it was time for more. If she actually stayed behind and babysat Caroline, she’d never break out of this role. At some point, she had to take the initiative and actually say no to one of his demands. She had to force him to see her in a more creative role, or she’d never have the chance to explore that side of herself. To unleash it.

Besides—
hello
?—he couldn’t function without her, so how could he get through the next six weeks on the other side of the world?

She spun around, pointing a finger at him. “What are you going to do without me?”

He looked alert then. Most of the time he had a dozen very important ideas going on in his head all at once, so it was nearly impossible to gain his full attention.

Those sharp blue eyes pierced her, and she knew she had it then.

“Right,” he said to the caller. “Emmie will get back to you later.” He stowed his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. “I’m taking Bax with me.”

Had she been standing on a trap door? Because the floor gave way, and she was in free fall. Baxter Reynolds had started as an intern five years ago. When Irwin hadn’t shown any interest in promoting him, he’d attached himself to Bob, one of the other A&R guys.

And
now
Irwin was showing an interest in him? Instead of Emmie?

She didn’t know what to say. “Bax?” How was
Bax
better than her?

His phone buzzed, but he ignored it as he came right up to her, close enough that she could smell the Christian Dior cologne she kept stocked for him. He brushed his hand down her arm. “I’m sorry, Em. As much as I need you with me, I can’t leave Caroline alone.”

“Where’s her mother?”

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? I can’t really count on Claire. But I
can
count on you.”

See? When he did that, she caved. Irwin loved his daughter, and who else could he trust to look out for her? His entire family lived in England. Flighty, gorgeous, sexy Claire Murphy flitted around the world on a whim, barely touching down long enough to take care of anything but her most immediate and impulsive needs.

But Emmie needed more. She needed
in
. She couldn’t stay his personal assistant forever. So what should she do? Of course, if Caroline were in any danger, Emmie would have to help. But the girl was twenty-one. And, sorry, but Emmie simply wasn’t her mother or her big sister.

She didn’t want to let Irwin down. But she was continuing to let herself down if she never took the next step—which meant taking charge of her own career.

She needed the promotion. “I’m not going to babysit Caroline, Irwin. You need me in Australia, and I need to go to Australia to see the bands I’ve been researching.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Truth is, you’ve set everything up perfectly, as you always do. You’ve got my every moment organized and arranged to the point that I
don’t
need you there.”

“But you need Bax?”

“You’ve given me the list of bands to check out, along with the scheduled times to meet them. So, yes, I need Bax.”

“I researched those bands.”

“From the privacy of your office. Bax
lives
it, Emmie.”

“You’re saying I’m not good enough to be promoted?” She felt the sting of it, like he’d doused alcohol on a blister.
No, no, no.
That was bullcrap. She
was
good enough.

“I’m saying that I need you right where you are.”

“And I need a career. Not just a job.”

His phone buzzed again, and this time he checked the caller ID. “I have to take this.”

“No. Please, Irwin. Not until we settle this.”

“It
is
settled, Em.” He said it gently. “I’m taking Bax.” He punched the button on his phone. “Yes?”

“Then I quit.”

Irwin’s eyes flared. His features burned crimson.

She stood there, letting the words settle around her. The only sound was her own breathing, the only movement the wild and erratic beating of her heart.

Had she actually done it? Quit her coveted job?

“Wait, wait, hang on a moment,” he said into the phone.

“I’m sorry, Irwin. I can’t keep doing this. You have no intention of promoting me.”
Standing on the periphery hurts too much.

“You can’t quit.” He turned back to the phone. “Let me get back to you.” Without waiting for a response, he hung up. “You can’t quit.” He looked utterly lost and baffled. “Why would you quit?”

“I’ll find my replacement.” She turned to go.

“Good God, Emmie. You cannot leave me.”

“You’ve given me no choice.”

“All right, just stop this. Stop it right now. I can’t function without you, and you know that. You’re threatening me. That’s not a good way to get a promotion.”

“It’s not a threat. I told you I needed a career, and you told me you needed me right where I am. Fetching your Americanos and cajoling your landlord into letting you keep amphibians in your penthouse apartment isn’t a career. I can’t be your personal assistant the rest of my life. You get that, right? I’ve loved working for you, but it’s supposed to be a stepping stone. You’ve just shown me it’s a cage. I deserve more.”

He had a strange expression, like he was listening to an incoming message from an ethereal source. “It’s not right for you.”

“What isn’t?” He’d punched the accelerator on her pulse, making it rev so fast she went light-headed.
This is not happening.
He was
not
shutting her out of this world.

“A&R.”

“I . . .” She found it hard to take a full breath. But he was wrong. Of course it was right for her. She pretty much did the job anyway. Maybe not discovering the bands, but . . . oh, God. She needed to breathe.
Deep breaths
. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve been doing it for eight years.”

“Em, look, I have to get to the studio. You simply can’t quit. I won’t allow it. We’ll find a way to compromise, right? I want you to be happy.”

“I’m not happy babysitting your daughter.”

He winced. “Loud and clear.”

“I need to know there’s a place for me here other than going through your laundry room and drawers looking for a missing cashmere night sock.”

Looking pained, he touched her arm, ignoring his buzzing phone. “Let’s both think on it. Come up with a solution.”

“Am I going to Australia with you tomorrow?”

“No.”

She bit down hard on fear. It was scary as hell, but she had to do this.

“Emmie . . .”

She turned and walked out of the
room.

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