I take a seat next to Jett and look around the room. “So, have you knocked out a few songs this morning?” I joke, trying to break through the tense atmosphere.

West chuckles. “Yeah, babe, we’ve nearly finished the whole album.”

I love his teasing tone and play along. “Awesome, so I can have Jett all to myself in a few days?”

“Well, if he’s not down with that, I’ll happily step up and take his place,” West flirts with me.

Wanting to change the course of the conversation to avoid Jett’s jealous streak coming out, I say, “Seriously though, have you had a productive morning?”

Hunter joins the conversation. “It’s usually a slow start when we first start working on a new album and this time isn’t any different.”

That seems like code for ‘it’s been shit this morning and we haven’t been productive at all’ but I don’t pursue it any further. Instead, I change course again. “I’ve almost finished editing the photos from your concert. They look great.”

My statement catches Van’s attention and he gives me a dazzling smile that almost knocks me off my seat. It’s a rarity and I can’t help but wish he smiled like that more; he really is a gorgeous man and when he smiles, it takes my breath away. “I’m looking forward to seeing them,” he says, his eyes firmly on me, and full of warmth. In that moment, I imagine that any woman who is able to capture his attention must love it when he looks at her that way.

I give him a smile. “I’ll have them for you soon.”

“Thanks,” he says before sinking back into his moodiness.

Jett’s watching him with a thoughtful look and then he turns to me. “You free tonight?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d cook for you tonight after you made me that amazing stroganoff last night. If you’re free, that is.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh God, I shouldn’t have said that, should I?”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” West interjects. “The dude has a big enough head. He doesn’t need you making it bigger. Hell, we don’t need you doing that.”

Patting Jett on the chest, I agree. “Mr. Rockstar here definitely doesn’t need me telling him how good he is, but damn, have you tasted his stroganoff?”

Jett chuckles as West shakes his head and says, “No, but I have tasted some of his other stuff and I’ll give him his dues; he can fucking cook.”

Turning my attention back to Jett, I ask, “So, dinner tonight?”

He kisses me and nods his head. “Yeah, sweetheart, dinner at your place tonight.”

“Any idea what time you might be finished here?”

“We’ve got the studio booked till six, so sometime around then.”

West interrupts again. “How the hell did you end up with a woman like Presley? She’s gorgeous, she brings you food, and she cooks for you.” He looks at me. “Babe, when you decide you’ve had enough of Jett, you know where to find me.”

Jett scowls at him and pulls me close, holding me tight. “Fuck off, West.”

West simply laughs and flips him the bird.

Standing, I kiss him goodbye. “I’m gonna get going so you guys can get back to work, but I’ll see you tonight.”

He keeps hold of me and kisses me like he doesn’t want to let me go. Reluctantly, he does. “Be ready,” he says with a cheeky grin, and my tummy flutters at what I know he means.

Jett is one horny man and has trouble keeping his hands off me when we’re alone.

Just the way I like it.

Glaring at West, I mutter, “Do you always have to flirt with Presley?”

“Really, man?” He stares at me like I’m an idiot, and it just pisses me off more.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means, where the fuck is this coming from? You’ve never given a shit before if we’ve flirted with your women, so why all of a sudden is it a problem?”

The irritation spreading throughout me is making me fucking jumpy, like I just want to punch something to get some of this fucked up energy out of me. He’s right, but he’s so wrong, too. “I never gave a shit before because those women weren’t my women – they were just women. Presley’s mine. So back the fuck off, okay?”

He puts his hands up defensively. “Sorry, man. You’ve gotta know I don’t mean anything by it though, right? You and me are like brothers; I’d never take something of yours.”

I listen to his words, and I know he means them, but I’m still agitated. Blowing out a long breath, I rub the back of my neck and say, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me lately. I’m all over the place with this shit.”

Hunter and West laugh at the same time, and West enlightens me with his thoughts on the matter. “Dude, you’ve turned into a possessive motherfucker. Hell, I can’t even recall a time when you’ve chased a woman for anything, let alone gone back for seconds and thirds.”

My phone rings and I answer it while mentally agreeing with what West just said. He’s right on the money – I have turned into a possessive motherfucker.

“Jett, you got a minute?” It’s Doug, my financial advisor.