Meet Me in Venus: A Steamy Second-Chances Romance Novella

Chapter 8- Endings Aren't Always Forever (Tink!)

Jacob

One year later...

The press had set up outside the domestic flight departure gates. As soon as Shelia and I walked in, they ran to me.

Sheila did her best to keep them at bay, forcing them back as their cameras clicked and flashed in my face. When I stopped moving and they gave me a little space, she handed me a folder. "Can you handle this, boss?"

I nodded. "I'll be fine."

She offered a sad smile, then pulled me into a hug. "I'm going to miss working for you," she whispered. "You'll text me when you arrive?"

"Of course. Thank you for everything you've done for me." I watched her back away from the group and exit out the automatic doors. One lone photographer chased her, but she held up a hand and slid into a waiting limo.

I turned back to the reporters. "What's up, gang?"

They fired questions at me. The one that seemed most common lingered in the air, waiting for my answer. "Is it true you're leaving the music business?"

It wasn't true. While I toured the world, I started writing songs for other artists. I had a knack for it and soon decided the performing life wasn't for me. I was composing up a storm, but I also longed for freedom of movement.

So when I returned from the tour, I'd satisfied most of my outstanding contracts and wiggled out of a couple more, sold my condo, paid out severances to my staff, and packed my guitar and my duffel bag.

"Yes," I said to the reporters, because it was the easy answer.

"Where are you going?"

I flashed my Pressler grin that they loved. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

They laughed. I knew they'd find out, but I wasn't going to offer the information.

After I vaguely answered their questions and dodged others, I headed to my gate with the help of airport security. Sheila texted me that I was trending, and that news had broke that I was officially out of the game. As I boarded the plane, in a coach seat like a regular person, I never felt so alive. I was so in the game.

Percy, himself, greeted me at the gate in Denver.

"To what do I owe the honor?" I teased.

He held out a hand. "You're our most treasured guest. I didn't trust your safety to anyone else." After a quick handshake, he grabbed my duffel and we moved briskly through the terminal.

Outside, the snow fell in sheets. "So. Am I your only treasured guest this Christmas?"

Percy lifted a brow as he hoisted my duffel, and then my guitar case, into the trunk of the Lincoln Town Car. "Are you expecting someone, Mr. Pressler?"

"No." I wasn't either. I couldn't help thinking that maybe Riya would happen to be in Venus again for the holidays. That maybe she'd be drawn there, like I was this Christmas. "Just hoping."

Percy was quiet on the way to the Hotel. I didn't mind. My world had been so noisy lately, that the silent, snow-covered streets of Colorado were a welcome change.

As we entered the revolving door into the lobby, Percy waved a hand. The same bellhop minion from the year before arrived. "Stuart will take your bag to the penthouse suite."

The suite I'd shared with Riya.

"Would you like to unwind in the bar?" He gestured toward the dark sanctuary off the main lobby. Images of Riya a year ago, dropping that glass, flashed through my mind.