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“Where are we going?” Georgina asks breathlessly.
“To a campus parking structure a few blocks away, to get my car, which will take us to my house in the Hollywood Hills, where I’m going to strip you naked and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before, for four straight hours, without a break, right up until the last nanosecond before I need to leave for the airport.”
She says nothing. But her gorgeous hazel eyes tell me she’s in favor of that plan.
We talk logistics. I ask if her car is parked somewhere around here. She says, no, she doesn’t own a car. That she always walks to work, or takes the campus shuttle, and then Ubers home.
“If there’s time later, I’ll drive you home on my way to the airport,” I offer. “If not, I’ll call a car for you. I apologize, in advance, if I have to call a car. I’d prefer to drive you, of course.”
“It’s all good. Whatever we need to do to maximize our time together, that’s what I want to do.”
I flash her a wicked smile. “Have I mentioned I like you, Georgina Ricci?”
“You have.” And that’s it. She notably doesn’t return my compliment. Which, frankly, turns me on even more. The last thing I need is for this firecracker of a woman to kiss my ass. Unless, of course, she’s going to do it literally.
We walk in silence for a moment, electricity coursing between our hands, until Georgina says, “What did you say to that girl at the bar after I walked away? She looked upset.”
“I told her I wouldn’t take her demo.”
“I heard that part. What did you say after that—after I walked away?”
“Nothing really. I told her music is a tough business. That she shouldn’t compare herself to Adele.” I shrug. “Some people don’t handle rejection well.” I pause. “Also, I told her to fuck off. But I did it nicely.”
She looks shocked. “There’s no ‘nice’ way to tell someone to fuck off. No wonder she cried.”
“Josh said the same thing. But here’s the thing, Georgie. I get bombarded by wannabes all the time. Occasionally, I snap. So sue me.” I snort. “Which also happens to me all the time, by the way.”
She’s quiet for a long moment as we continue walking toward campus, past storefronts and restaurants. And for a moment, I’m worried I’ve blown it. Scared her away. Miscalculated. Finally, she says, “You never take unsolicited demos—from anyone?”
“Correct.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“No exceptions?”
I look at her, trying to read her. Does she have a demo for me, despite all her protestations earlier about her lack of musical ambitions? Is that it? “That’s right. No exceptions.”
“How’d you find Red Card Riot?”
“Someone I trusted told me about them.”
“22 Goats?”
“Someone I trusted.”
“Laila Fitzgerald?”
“One of my scouts found her and presented her to me. Same with 2Real. A scout stumbled across him on YouTube. And with Aloha, her former bodyguard had started working for me, and told me she was looking to switch labels. See? Not an unsolicited demo in the bunch.”
“And yet, you agreed to listen to Bryce’s sister’s music.”
“On her public Instagram page, you might recall.”
“Isn’t that the same thing, in the end?”
“No. An Instagram account is out there for anyone to see. It hasn’t been curated specifically for me. Usually, the stuff there is pretty raw and not overly produced. Also, when I’m not physically taking something handed to me, it sets up lower expectations. It’s less of a ‘promise’ by me to listen or follow up, and more of a casual, ‘I’ll take a look.’”
“Why were you willing to check out Bryce’s sister’s music at all, though, but not that blonde girl’s? Was it yet another perk of Bryce being a football star?”
We’re walking hand-in-hand up the darkened sidewalk at a good clip now, both of us like horses sensing the barn is close. I’m bursting to touch Georgina. To run my hands and mouth all over her. I grip her hand more tightly in mine at the thought. “It was partly about Bryce being a football star,” I admit. “But not in the way you think. Mostly, I wanted to neutralize Bryce when it came to you, as quickly and efficiently as possible.”
“‘Neutralize’ him?”
I smile at Georgina—at her inquisitive, gorgeous face. “When Bryce first walked up, I didn’t know what the situation was between you. For all I knew, you two were fucking, or maybe even in love.”
She scoffs. “Uh, no. If I’d been in love with Bryce, or anyone else, I would never have so much as flirted with you.”
I shrug. “Either way, I felt the need to neutralize him—to unequivocally get him out of my way. And what better way to do that than to show you, right out of the box, he can be bought—that he’d kick you to the curb in a heartbeat for the mere chance of getting his sister signed to my label?”
