Despite the late hour, sleep hovers beyond my reach. I can't stop thinking about Dimitri; his gorgeous face, that roughness in his voice, how he felt... With a sigh I grab my vibrator from my nightstand. It's only once my limbs are heavy with the aftermath of yet another climax that I'm finally able to drift off to sleep.

At one point in the night my guitar must have fallen over. It caught on one of my curtains on its way down, pulling the fabric slightly to the side. Come morning, this allows a single beam of sunlight through the gap, and it lands directly on my face.
It's an irritatingly cheerful way to return to consciousness, and I definitely haven't gotten enough sleep. I groggily shift so I'm out of the light, and drop my head back to the pillow to get back to sleep. But as I do, I blindly reach towards where Dimitri should be sleeping beside me, to check if he's awake. My mind is half a step behind my body, and neither of them is awake. So when my hand encounters only empty sheets, I feel a stab of panic.

My eyes are open in a flash, searching to confirm that I'm alone in my bed. And my panic morphs into a sinking sense of disappointment when I realise my mistake. That's right, Dimitri isn't here. He went home. Because the universe is a massive cockblock.

I slump back to the mattress with a sigh, wondering if I'll even be able to get back to sleep at this point. I'm lazy enough that I figure it's worth a try, closing my eyes and allowing my mind to idle. And naturally after the first few seconds of blessed darkness, my head begins to play me a scenario where Dimitri had stayed over, and I'd woken up to him. Who knew my imagination was still capable of such a high level of detail?

God, I haven't thought about sex this much since I was a teenager.

I give up on sleep and resolve to go about starting my day. But well... now that I think about it, it has been a while. It's been what, eight months since I last got laid? Ten? That's a disturbing train of thought.

My legs complain heavily as I brace my muscles to stand. Ordinarily I'm of the opinion that I didn't work hard enough if I'm not a little stiff the next day, but this is well past "a little stiff." I'm going to be hobbling around like an invalid. But to be fair, between the extended run and the mind blowing orgasms, my muscles have really been put through the wringer. What I really need is a soak in a bath, but I don't have one. So a hot shower will just have to do.

It's almost ten thirty by the time I'm dressed and perched on the sofa, with my damp hair tied back and a steaming cup of coffee in my hand. It's only once I'm awake and presentable that I allow myself to check my phone, since I know I would have just lain in bed all day scrolling otherwise.

Lissa's sent a voice note!

I was starting to worry, but she was probably busy with work. Or hopefully Christian? Anyway, it's long enough that I'll save it to listen to while I wash the dishes later. My father sent a dry comment noting my lack of a response, and I don't know how to reply to that one either so I just scroll past. And then of course my heart leaps when I register Dimitri's name in my inbox.

Good morning Roza

Surely three simple words shouldn't have me grinning like the Cheshire cat? My eyes dart across the screen as though staring at the text more will encourage more words appear. But I do catch sight of the timestamp. Goddamn, why was he up at 6AM? My finger hovers over his text, about to open it and respond when my attention is drawn to a notification that pops up at the top of the screen. Suddenly my heartbeat picks up for an entirely different reason.

Rent is due. Fuck.

My financial situation has always been a little tenuous. Unfortunately it's one of those things that goes with the territory: I earn different amounts based on how much (or how little) I work. In the busy months I barely sleep, and I have enough money to put into my savings for those other times that I barely earn enough to cover my expenses. I do have to be frugal during the dry spells, but thankfully I have enough connections who enjoy working with me that it's a lot less common these days. Or I suppose, I should say I had enough connections. Now thanks to Mason, my jobs are pretty much dry until Dimitri's tour in two months. Which is... really not ideal.

My heart rate climbs as I open my banking app, distantly aware that I'm chewing my lip. That slight pressure soothes some of my nerves as I wait for the information to load. I enter my pin and hold my breath.

My balance flashes up, clearly displayed at the top of the screen. Or rather, that's where I know my balance has been previously. But maybe they moved things around, because that cannot be the correct number. I blink.

That's...way higher than it should be.

"Oh god," I whisper to myself as I click through my various transactions, trying to find the mistake. My palms start getting clammy.
There are far more charges from my account than there are payments into it, but I'm struggling to focus through the panic that's setting in. I force myself to take a breath and start from the beginning. Okay, here!

An unusually large number came into my account last night, from... Shit. From Dimitri's label. They must have made a mistake with the billing for that last gig. But still, I need to pay my rent today, so I'll just do that first and sort things with the label afterwards.

Once my sacrifice to the landlord gods has been accepted, I shoot Gerry a quick message to ask if he's been paid for the gig. I'm not sure if he's on a job, but I really hope he responds soon.

In the meantime, I text Dimitri.

Morning Comrade. Did you get enough sleep?

I hit send, but after a minute with no response I type a second message.

Your label overpaid me for the gig. I don't suppose you'd know what happened?

Mercifully he reads it immediately, and starts typing a response. But my relief is short lived.

Hi Rose, it's Dimitri's PA. He's in a meeting and won't be done for a while, I'll have him call you later.

I feel an irrational surge of frustration at the assistant. Considering I opted not to wake them up to get us condoms last night, I feel like they owe me a solid.

Anyway, considering my options are rapidly drying up, I swallow that generational anxiety and call Gerry outright. Luckily he wasn't working, and he informs me that he was paid as usual.

"Maybe they just calculated a higher rate?" he suggests. "You did do the work of two people."

I give a mildly panicked laugh. "Don't I always?"

"Yeah, fair," Gerry agrees, then sighs. "You could always check the invoice. Mason should have it."

Of course, that's an easy solution. If only it was that fucking simple.

"I can ask him," Gerry offers, correctly interpreting my silence.

"I'd really appreciate it," I reply.

We end the call with Gerry's promise to contact Mason, but I'm not holding out much hope for a prompt response given the spectacular fashion in which Mason got fired. I know exactly where he keeps his bottle of 'bad job whiskey,' having shared more than a few glasses with him after some terrible nights. I'd be surprised if there's even anything left in it after Dimitri's last gig.

Which leaves me with two choices: I can sit around on my ass all day and become a ball of anxiety, or I can find someone in the label to advise me and maybe go down there in person. It doesn't take long to decide which one will be better for my mental health. But who do I speak to? Do I message Dimitri, try to intercept his PA again and ask who to call? That seems complicated.

In the meantime I throw on my leather blazer to look more professional, twisting my ponytail up into a bun and securing it with an indecent amount of bobby pins. And then, while I'm adding a swipe of kohl, it occurs to me that I could call Tasha.

Since Dimitri's in a meeting, I know the chances are that she might be too. But I think it's worth a shot. After the conversation back at Dimitri's place I get the feeling she and I have reached some level of mutual understanding - or a ceasefire at the very least. Plus it doesn't really involve Dimitri or his career, so I feel like she'll be more willing to help. Maybe?

But it seems like my best bet, so I call her. In spite of the calm and logical reasoning that lead me to this decision, my heart is in my throat. I listen as her phone rings a few times. Just as I'm trying to decide whether I want her to pick up more than I want her to ignore my call, I hear her voice.

"Hi Tasha," I say, trying to swallow my nerves.

"Rose? One second, let me just find an empty room."

As she speaks I can hear voices in the background that slowly fade away. A door closes.

"Okay, shoot," she says.

I should probably insert a little small talk, just to be polite. So I decide on :"I'm sorry for interrupting your meeting."

"Don't worry about it," Tasha breezily replies. "I've already gone through all the documentation they're going to cover."

I blink. Why would you meet to discuss something that can be contained in a document?

"Sounds like a productive meeting then," I hedge, trying to keep my tone neutral.

"Well, it's mainly for Dimitri's benefit," she responds. I can hear the laugh in her voice. "Do you need to talk to him?"

It sounds like Tasha's genuinely offering to hand the phone to him, to my surprise. The irony of the situation isn't lost on me. The last time I called her things went very differently.

"Uh, no I actually wanted to ask you something," I tell her. "The label overpaid me for the last gig. I'm thinking I might go down there and try to find out what happened."

"Interesting," she muses. "Personally I'd keep quiet and hope they don't figure it out."

I sigh.

"But," she continues, "If you wanted to come in, ask for Meredith in finance. She should be able to help."

"Thanks, Tasha, I appreciate it."

"Sure thing. Good luck."

"Thanks," I wince. Then we say our goodbyes.

With a solid avenue to follow now, my nerves kick into overdrive. As much as I hate phone calls, I hate going to intimidating new places even more. But obviously the universe has decided that I need to be an adult today, and nobody is going to fix this for me. So I take a breath and grab my keys, promising myself I can stop for a little treat on the way home.

The building is as impressive as I feared, and based on the gorgeously understated sophistication of the receptionist's outfit, I am severely out of my depth. As I'm explaining who I am and why I'm here to this girl who looks like she could be on the front page of a magazine, it occurs to me that while I'm a fish out of water here, this is what Dimitri's everyday looks like.

Obviously intellectually I know he's famous. I can only guess at how much money he must have from seeing his penthouse, there are pictures of him with A list actresses at exclusive events on the internet. But he's always seemed so down to earth when I'm with him, and I've felt like we're on a similar wavelength. I think it's hitting me now that Dimitri the celebrity and my Dimitri are one in the same. And with that comes the fact that on this level at least, we differ greatly.

"Let me just grab an intern to show you the way," the receptionist smiles, bringing my attention back to the matter at hand. And to her credit she does seem genuinely friendly and professional, like someone who enjoys their job. It helps set me a little more at ease.

A few minutes later the intern in question appears at the desk. He looks like he's fresh out of university, clearly young even though he's tall. Clean shaven, with tan skin and curly chestnut hair. His fringe barely brushes the thin wire frames of his glasses.

"Vance, can you please show Miss Hathaway to the finance department?"

"Sure thing." Vance shoots me a smile. "Follow me."

As he leads me up the stairs and through various open plan cubicled offices, Vance keeps up a steady stream of information.

"This room has most of the marketing department," he tells me, gesturing at the office around us that features a pretty cool graffiti mural. "Most of the graphic designers and creative team are here, and they get through the second highest number of energy drinks after the web developers"

"Cool," I reply, taking in the sheer amount of people everywhere and wondering how they can stand to stay in one place all day. "Where are the recording studios?"

"Oh, those are in the basement," he replies with a grin. "We're not supposed to go down there but once a producer asked me to make them a cup of coffee."

He sounds pretty proud of himself, so I make the appropriate impressed noises.

"Anyway, what do you do Miss Hathaway?"

I almost turn around to look for my mother. "Just Rose," I say with a shudder, and he laughs. I can't help but smile back as I tell him: "I'm a sound technician."

Or rather I was a sound technician? I'm not sure if I actually have to start work on the tour to claim my promotion to audio engineer. Nevertheless, it seems too complicated to explain to this poor guy.

"Studio or live?" Vance asks, apparently interested.

"Live," I say simply, but I have to admit it's nice not to hear some variation of the sound guy joke. And he seems more enthusiastic than I'd have thought.

"Cool!" Vance grins. He has a nice smile, and very white teeth. "Have you worked any big shows?" he presses, "Anything I might have heard of?"

I'm not sure why I don't feel like getting into specifics with him. But I find myself shrugging it off with a general answer.

"Here and there, but it's mostly smaller indie stuff."

"Yeah," he sympathises, "I thought working here would be a lot more exciting than it is. I mean," he frowns a little, "I haven't even seen any of the artists. They don't come up here."

I nod, commiserating, and I can tell he'd have continued the conversation. But we seem to have reached our destination.

"Well this is finance," Vance says leading me through another set of glass doors. "They have their own secretary who can help you."

"Thank you," I smile. "I appreciate you taking the time to me help out."

"Oh, it's nothing," he grins back, but he seems to be a little nervous as he continues. "Do you maybe want to grab a coffee with me when your meeting's done? I know a great place across the street."

I'm shocked, but I try not to let it show on my face. I must be like, a minimum of six years older than this guy.

"Uh, I'm actually seeing someone," I say, trying my damnedest not to sound awkward. "But I appreciate the offer."

Vance shrugs, giving me a once over. "That makes sense. Tell him he's a lucky guy."

All I'm able to manage is an eloquent, "Uhh..."

He flashes me a grin as he walks away. "Bye Rose."

I weakly lift a hand in farewell and try to shake off the cringe. Once I decide I'm as unclenched as I'm going to get, I have to explain my situation again to the current secretary, and I'm directed to sit in the waiting room while they call Meredith. I'm antsy enough that I grab a magazine off the coffee table, only to be greeted by a double page feature on Dimitri Belikov. He looks absolutely swoonworthy in the artistic black and white pictures, and he's only wearing a shirt in some of them. I really need to not drool right now. I'm irrationally irritated at how gorgeous he is.

"Rose Hathaway?"

The quiet voice makes me jump as I almost fling the magazine back on the table like it's burned my hand.

"Oh, hi," I manage as I stand up and shake the the proffered hand. "You must be Meredith?"

Her dove grey eyes crinkle as she responds. "I am, it's lovely to meet you. Would you like to come through to a conference room?"
"Thanks, that would be great."

I follow her to a relatively bland meeting room featuring a large dark table surrounded by swivel chairs. The secretary comes in to offer me a coffee which I gladly accept, and a short while later I'm sitting next to Meredith while I take a sip.

"Oh this is really good," I say, surprised. I bring my nose to the rim of the cup and take a deep breath before my next sip.

Meredith laughs. "I'm pretty sure they know that good coffee is a big factor in our team's output."

"I'm feeling more productive already," I agree with a grin. She has a lovely energy, very reassuring.

"So how can I help, Rose?"

"I just recieved payment for Dimitri Belikov's last gig I worked," I tell her. At this point I've said it so many times that it just flows off my tongue. "The number seemed higher than it should have been, so I just wanted to check there wasn't a misunderstanding somewhere."

"Oh, that shouldn't be difficult to figure out," Meredith assures me. "Let me grab my laptop and I can bring up the numbers."

She returns within minutes, and it doesn't take long before she slides the laptop over to me so I can see the screen.

"So we have your base hourly rate here," she hilights a row with a number range I'm used to seeing, "Which was multiplied by the number of hours worked. Plus," she scrolls down a row, "you were reimbursed for equipment that you hired."

I nod. That's all as expected.

"Oh but then..." Meredith pauses and frowns as she continues looking at the screen. "It looks like they added a second rate on top of that."
Wait, what? I lean closer, trying to get a clear look at the table on her screen.

"Yeah, here, see?" She hilights the row in question so it's easier to focus on. "They paid you an additional hourly rate for the position you took over, so it's not for the full duration of the gig."

My eyes almost bug out of my head at the amount I read.

"How did they come up with that?" I choke out. My base rate was already higher than usual because at the time of the first quote Dimitri's label was desperate for a crew. What I'm looking at now is almost triple that.

"Uh, one second," Meredith says as she switches to a different tab in the document. Her eyes flash as she scans the information. "Okay yeah," she muses, turning the laptop towards me again. "It was taken from the quote we received. Since that was the position you took on, we just paid you what we would have paid the guy who got fired."

My brain takes a second to process what I've just heard. Distantly I remember Mason thanking me when he took me out for dinner, telling me "we" came off well. At the time I thought he meant we as in the company, not we as in Mason and his audacity.

But this isn't even about him fucking me over here. He's put his own interests above the entire crew. And, as he's just recently proved, this career runs on reputation.

So it's with a genuine smile that I ask Meredith to email the quote and invoice to me. Because I know that once the crew know Mason took this chance to line his own pockets he's going to get exactly what's coming to him.

God, I could just about skip down the hall.

My phone vibrates as I walk back down the stairs, so I pause at the bottom to check it.

I've gotten a few messages that I don't register before I see an email came through with two attachments. And an insane grin splits across my face.

"Who's got you smiling at your phone like that?" says a very familiar voice.

I look up, like a deer caught in headlights, right into the most beautiful brown eyes. Dimitri's grinning, apparently under the impression that he's the reason for my good mood. And to be fair, he might very well have been had I known he was there.

But he's also in need of an ego check, so I don't hesitate to reply, "Meredith from finance."

He raises an eyebrow, then lets loose a laugh. "Well maybe I should send her flowers, because that smile is a great remedy for a very long meeting."

He's blindsided me so thoroughly that I don't know how to act. My first impulse to grab his hand and bury my face in his chest. But we're very much out in the open, and we need to be careful. So instead I settle into the pattern of our usual banter.

"Smooth talker," I accuse him, failing to hide as my cheeks glow with pleasure.

"It's all in the tongue," he replies with a wink.

My entire body goes numb as my heart accelerates, and Dimitri's smile takes on a smug edge. I blink. It's one thing for Tasha to know we're together, but risking informing every employee in his entire label?

Then again, I remind myself, he's probably banking on the fact that he has a reputation. I take a nervous glance at our immediate surroundings, finding them surprisingly empty. Not that I have much attention to spare from Dimitri's sheer perfection.

"Are you busy now?" he asks, as though he's not fully aware that he has me entirely flustered. "Any plans for this evening?"

I shake my head, trying to remember that while his badboy image may stop anyone from reading into him flirting with me, someone will definitely notice if I climb him like a tree.

Still, I can't resist playing his game with my response of, "I'm wide open."

Delighted is the word I'd use to describe his answering smile, but that does nothing to cover the description of those eyes full of dirty thoughts.

"You want to come over?" he asks, taking a step closer to me. His voice is lower, and slightly hoarser.

"Yes," I swallow. "Please. My car is parked out front. I don't think I remember the way so I'll have to follow you."

A slight smile. "Are you in the mood to drive?"

"Not really." In fact there's not much I wouldn't do to get him alone in a confined space at this point.

Dimitri steps back. "Mia," he calls. And she materialises fast enough that I know she may have heard some of our previous exchange.

So naturally I turn red, which Dimitri notes with amusement.

"Mia, this is Rose. Rose, my assistant Mia."

"Hi," I say shyly, extending my hand to the surprisingly petite woman before me.

"Rose, it's lovely to meet you," Mia says as she shakes my hand. "Did you manage to get everything sorted?"

"I did, thank you."

"Excellent."

Dimitri watches our exchange politely. Then : "Mia, I'm taking Rose back to my apartment. Can you drop off her car later?"

She gives a smooth nod and asks for my keys, which I hand over with no small degree of embarrassment. But my blush is ignored by both her and Dimitri, and I guess by their respective reactions that this is a pretty normal occurrence. I just hope she's paid well.

And just like that, everything is settled. Dimitri leads me back to the foyer where I can't help but notice the secretary gives him a very warm smile. I resist the urge to wrap my arm around his waist, reminding myself that in about an hour hopefully I'll be wrapped around him. The thought obviously makes me blush, which then causes Dimitri to look enquiringly at me. I shake my head and try to cover my ears as I feel them heat up.
The drive back to Dimitri's apartment will take about thirty minutes, and all the while I'll be sitting beside him trying to ignore the electric charge of attraction that flows between us. I may be aware that it's not a good idea to jump on him while he's driving, but somehow my hormones didn't get the memo.

To distract myself, I bring Dimitri up to date with the latest chapter of Mason being a fuckwad, and in turn he tells me about his meeting to go over the marketing and social media strategy in the buildup for the tour. He doesn't say it outright, but it sounds to me like the entire team is going to be working overtime. And while they're going to be busy working on content, organising interviews and appearances, pretty much every step of that will require some input or appearance from Dimitri.

I consider how early he had to be up today, even though he only left my house in the small hours of the morning. I think about the amount of time it will require for him to do photoshoots, attend events, give interviews, keep up his physique, practice his set, meet with the label, record the new single... God it's enough to make me panic, and I'm not even the one doing it.

"You're probably not going to have much free time in the lead up, are you?" I ask. My voice comes out a little quiet.

Dimitri gives me an apologetic glance and my heart contracts.

"It's something we need to talk about," he admits. "But I want to be able to focus on you when we do."

I nod, trying to swallow the swell of sadness in my chest. Once again, it feels like the universe is conspiring against us. I wish we could just stop time and have a moment to ourselves, outside the weight of all these external factors. But I guess that's what this time with him now can be. So I do my best to quell my disappointment, and promise to make the most of the time we have.

Author's Note

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to let me know what you thought, please leave a review. I do try my best to respond, and honestly hearing from you never fails to brighten my day. Also please feel free to follow and favourite if you'd like to keep in the loop when I post.

Every time I post to this fic I'm more proud of how much I've written. I might even format and bind it when its finished, even though I don't know what I'd tell people if they saw it and asked about it. In any case, I'm just grateful for you guys and the community we have here. It's your support and excitement that encourages me to keep writing.

The VA universe and the characters therein are the sole intellectual property of Richelle Mead.