“Sign, please.”
Without a word, Paris began reading. I walked over and scanned the first page.
Exclusive Agency Agreement
I hereby employ Carlos Sorensen as my exclusive talent agent for the period of seven years…
“You’re kidding.”
Carlos raised his eyebrows. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
Paris lifted his hand for us to be quiet, not looking away from the contract. He turned to the next page. Both Carlos and I waited for him to finish reading. It seemed that whenever Paris was in the room, he ruled over us all. Blackmail or not.
Long minutes passed, during which I decided I’d rather quit the business entirely than ever work with Carlos again. But I had to give Paris the final word—his reputation would suffer more than mine if this went wrong. Carlosbegan to fidget, his eyes pinned on Paris. His initial confidence was fraying around the edges.
Finally, Paris sat up straight and looked at Carlos. He didn’t touch the pen.
“I won’t sign this. It would breach the current contract by which I’m bound.”
The fake smile on Carlos’s face got tense. “I’m sure you can lawyer your way out of that. I also have a press release ready to go, announcing your sudden switch to my agency. It will be surprising news for many.”
Paris’s expression remained unreadable. “I won’t sign you as my agent, Mr. Sorensen. You lack the qualifications and experience to handle my account.”
Whoa.
Carlos clenched his jaw, and the vein on his forehead popped. “I’m afraid you have no choice,” he ground out.
At that, Paris smiled. He really looked like an angel. “There’s always a choice, Mr. Sorensen.” He pushed to stand. “Let’s go, Lothair.”
I hadn’t expected that. We’d agreed to pay Carlos. Now we were going to…leave?
“Um, Paris,” I hissed. “Aren’t we being blackmailed?
“Yes, we are. In a quite vulgar way, too.”
Carlos seemed too stunned to speak. He looked from me to Paris and back with his mouth open.
“We can’t just go,” I said. “He’ll publish the pictures.”
Hitching his bag up his shoulder, Paris moved toward the door. “He might, yes.”
Carlos finally woke up from his stupor. “If you don’t sign these contracts today, I’m going to wipe my ass with your public image. By evening, you’re going to be branded the filthiest whores inthe country.”
Eerily slowly, Paris turned around. He gifted Carlos with the most superior sneer I’d ever seen on anyone’s face.
“Mr. Sorensen, let me advise you just this one time,” he said in a low, calm voice. “To play the game at this level, you must think not one, not two, but ten steps ahead. Consider all the consequences. You were counting on us to be afraid of the truth. What if we’re not? If you publish those pictures, Lothair and I will survive. Our public image will merely change—morph into something else. It is you who will never recover.”
What happened next was fast, but not fast enough for me. Carlos stepped around his desk and reached for Paris’s handbag, about to yank Paris backward.
He managed only one word, “Bitch!”
The next second, I had him pinned to the wall by his throat, his feet dangling.
His eyes bulged, and his face turned deep red. I’d never killed anyone, and up until that moment, I’d never thought of how incredibly easy it would be to kill a human.
Just a squeeze, and he’d be gone. I’d pulverize his spine in one hand. Luckily for Carlos, I wasn’t nearly angry enough to get murderous. I watched him squirm for a bit, enjoying the raw terror with which he stared back at me.
“Lothair, let’s go,” Paris said in a bored tone.
