“We are, but you can’t expect to be able to start bossing me around and telling me what I can and can’t do. That’s never going to happen, Jett. I won’t ever let a man boss me around again.”

He rakes his hand through his hair. “I’m not fucking bossing you around. I’m just asking to be told what’s going on in your life.”

“No!” I yell, pointing at him, letting the anger take over completely, “You’re shitty because I was talking to Diesel. You’re shitty because you’re jealous. That’s why you’re here trying to throw your weight around, telling me I have to tell you about shit. I was going to tell you and you just have to trust me on that.” I take a deep breath. “And next time you’re all jealous and wild, you need to calm the fuck down and talk to me rationally because if you’d just remained calm and asked me what he and I were talking about, all of this could have been avoided.”

“Fuck!” he roars. “I’m not trying to throw my weight around. I just didn’t like being caught off guard like that.”

“Jett, I don’t deal with jealousy well, so if you’re going to get jealous every time I talk to another male, we’re going to have problems.” I stare at him and wait for his reply. We need to get this under control before we get too far into this relationship and before it becomes a full-blown problem.

He’s not seeing eye-to-eye with me on this, though, and he stares at me like I’m the one with the problem. “For fuck’s sake, I don’t have an issue with you talking to other men. I’ve told you what I had an issue with and it sure as hell wasn’t that you were talking to Diesel.”

I raise my brows. “Oh, really? So, I could go back in there and sit with Michael and Diesel, and talk to them for a while, and you would be okay with that?” I can feel the bitch in me coming out, but I can’t stop it.

“Sure! Be my fucking guest.”

We stand on the footpath glaring at each other for a good minute or two and then I blow out a long breath. “Fine!” I shout and stalk back inside to get my purse. I’m done with tonight. We’re not getting anywhere, and I need some time out. Just looking at him is making me mad at the moment.

I pass Michael and Diesel’s table and completely ignore them as I head to ours. The guys all look up as I approach and my mood is obviously written all over my face because they all shrink away from talking to me as I grab my purse. Once I have it, I turn on my heel and almost run into Jett who is standing a few steps behind me, his angry glare focused completely on me.

“Are you leaving?” he asks, his voice tight, but much more controlled than it was outside.

“Yes,” I mutter as I push past him.

“I’ll take you home,” he says as I walk away.

“I’m fine.” I just need to be on my own and he’s not making this easy now. Damn him and his manners. Even when he’s angry with me, his manners are still there. Who the hell does that?

I keep walking, not even sure if he’s still with me or not, hoping he isn’t, but as my feet hit the footpath, his voice sounds from behind. “Presley!”

Sighing, I stop and turn to face him. “I can get a taxi, Jett.”

I don’t know what he was expecting, but I don’t think it was that. He stares at me for a moment before finally nodding, the set of his jaw hard again. His gaze shifts to the road where there’s a taxi waiting and he moves to it, opens the door for me, and then closes it once I’m in. We don’t say another word and as the taxi pulls away from the curb, I realise this was our first fight.

Shit.

6

Jett

The first thought that hits me as I wake up the next morning is that I’m going to need copious amounts of water and headache pills to get through the day. My head throbs, and my gut feels ill from the mother of all hangovers I’m experiencing. My second thought is that I fucked up big time with Presley last night and once I get this hangover under control, I need to find her and sort that shit out.

I stumble out of bed and head into the bathroom for a shower. I’m almost naked when my phone rings. Hoping it’s Presley, I grab for it, but am disappointed to see it’s Doug. “Hey, man, what’s up?” I ask.

“Jett, the market’s taken another dive, and I think you should convert what’s left of your shares into cash holdings and bonds.”

My gut drops at his words and if I didn’t feel sick before, I feel really fucking ill now. “How much did it drop this time?”

“You’ve lost another fifteen percent,” he says, his voice sombre.

My mind is spinning, trying to think straight. Between the headache and this news, I can hardly begin to make a decision let alone even think about it. “So you recommend that now? Getting rid of the shares?”

“Yeah, now I do. The market is fucked at the moment. It might not take any more hits, but you just never know. You need to go into preservation mode, my friend.”

“Do it.” I know I need to make a quick decision and seems as though my mind isn’t at full speed today, I decide to trust him. He’s never led me astray to date.

“I’m on it,” he says, and we hang up.

I lean my hands against the edge of the vanity and stare at my reflection in the mirror.

This will be okay.

I will fix this.

* * *

West looks up as I enter the recording studio just over an hour later. He grins and raises his brows. “How’s the head?”