I nodded. Acid roiled in my empty stomach, and I wanted to lean over and vomit everything onto the floor. With shuddering disgust creeping up my spine, I jerked my fingers from his, no longer able to meet his eyes.
“I’ll have my lawyer draw up the contract immediately. Get to packing. You have thirty minutes.”
Without a word, I turned to the door and marched out of his office, hating the way my heart screamed for me to take back the deal, to fling it into his face and declare nothing could ever make me leave Cotton Candy.
Yet I couldn’t.
But maybe, in a few years, if I studied hard and applied everything I learned, I could be the man Terri Kingston deserved.
That is, if she doesn’t hate me for selling out and running away.
Scarlet Cross
Chapter twenty-two
Terri Kingston
Present Day
“Well,lookatwhatthe cat dragged in.” I lifted an eyebrow and gnawed on the end of my pen.
Viktor Farrow, former lead singer of Angry Gods, now enjoying a solo career, sauntered through the glass doors of my radio station.
Past the tinted windows, the Arizona desert stretched for miles, a black line of highway cutting through the sand.
“At least the little bugger didn’t piss on my boots this week.” Viktor smiled, his wavy blond hair brushing against his shoulders.
Two bodyguards flanked his sides, stopping in the waiting area to sweep their stare everywhere at once.
“Angie told me Marky took a dump on your pillow the other morning.” I let out a low laugh, imagining his outrage at the cat’s defiance.
A quick flush climbed Viktor’s cheeks and he leaned against the counter, craning his neck to me. “Yes, well, if he hadn’t helped protect Angel, I’d have shipped the little fucker to the local kill shelter. I think he lives to antagonize me.”
I signed off on a new contract between the station and a sponsor, then laid down the pen and settled into my chair. “Angie would toss you out on your ass if you did anything to her cat. And if she didn’t,Iwould.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He scowled, rubbing a hand through his loose hair. Evening sunshine shone through the windows and softened Viktor’s features. He was handsome, in a perfect, God-like way, but I preferred my men darker, less arrogant.
I dunno what Angela sees in him.
“Is she about finished?” He stared down the long, empty hall behind me.
“Yep.” I checked my phone for any missed messages. “You two got big plans for the weekend?”
“Hmm.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
I rolled my eyes and scrolled social media.
“You still dating Keith, or Kevin, or whatever the fuck that bloke’s name is?”
One of his bodyguards stepped outside and made the front entrance his post, the other remained inside, his bulky form taking up a corner of the room.
“Viktor?” Blowing out a breath, I shifted my focus to the haughty rock god. “How do you remember lyrics, yet you can’t recall names? Is it a side effect of aging?”
“Thirty-six isnotold. I’m in my prime,” he said, his voice rising an octave.
A smile tried to form on my lips, but I bit it back, enjoying the ability to get under his skin.
“Besides,” he purred, “I remember names, at least of important people.” One of his dimples peeked from under his trimmed beard. “And don’t even think about changing the subject. Dating? Yes or no?”
