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Oh, she’s livid now. “But, why?” she booms, her eyes bulging. “Why, why, why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m not doing anything to you. I’m protecting my brand. The tour idea isn’t original or fresh enough. And C-Bomb isn’t a good interview subject or representative of his band or my label, as an individual. My job is to sell RCR’s upcoming album. And to do that, I want Dean’s blue eyes front and center, because Dean is the one who sells records and tickets and posters for walls.”

“So does C-Bomb! He was literally on my wall when I was a teenager, Reed! And he hasn’t been interviewed a fraction as much as Dean.”

My heart is galloping. Georgina’s confession that she had Caleb on her teenage wall is driving me fucking crazy—and most definitely having the exact opposite effect she’s intending. But somehow, I manage to keep my voice calm and professional as I say, “I don’t want an interview of C-Bomb for sound business reasons. Conversation over.”

Georgina grunts in frustration. “Lies, lies, lies! Stop bullshitting me, Reed. You don’t want me going on tour with RCR, or talking to C-Bomb, because you think he’ll make a move on me!”

“No.” I lean forward, my eyes blazing every bit as much as hers. “I don’t want you going on tour with RCR, and talking to C-Bomb, because I know he’ll make a move on you.”

Fuck.

Why’d I say that?

At my confession, Georgina leaps up and points at me in the armchair. “I knew it. Ha!” She crosses her arms. “Well, so what if he does? You and I aren’t dating. In fact, you’ve made it clear you’ve got no intention of ever dating me. Which means you get no say on who, besides you, gets to try to seduce me. I’m an adult, Reed. And so is Caleb. You might own Caleb’s band. But you don’t own Caleb, the man. And you sure as hell don’t own me.”

My body feels like it’s short-circuiting. I’m feeling so jealous, so possessive, so turned on by the fire in her eyes, I can’t think straight. Did Georgina have sexual fantasies about Caleb as a teenager? Did she practice kissing her pillow, while pretending it was Caleb? “Caleb can’t have you,” I say evenly, my heart raging in my ears. “Nobody on my roster can have you. In fact, nobody on planet Earth can have you, until this thing between us has run its course.”

She stares for a long beat, flabbergasted. And then throws her head back and bursts out laughing. “The ramblings of a madman. Nobody on Earth can have me until you’ve grown tired of me and thrown me away? Gosh, what a lovely offer, Mr. Rivers. But, no, thanks. You don’t get to have me. You don’t get to plant your flag in me vis-à-vis the entire fucking world. And you most certainly don’t get to screw with my job, just because you want to fuck me and I’ve turned you down. That’s illegal, you know. I’ve got rights. Or haven’t you been following the news lately? That kind of shit isn’t allowed anymore, Reed.’”

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. “Georgina, I have no intention of screwing with your job. On the contrary, I only want to help you do it. I want this special issue to be a grand slam, every bit as much as you do. But don’t, even for a minute, forget your job is to write about my artists. You’re in my house now, Georgina, which means you’re going to play by my rules, whether I want to fuck you or not. Which, to be clear, I do. Very much. I don’t deny that. But that fact doesn’t change the fact that you’ll toe the line when it comes to my artists. And not just you. Anyone who wants to interview my artists, whether they’re from Rock ‘n’ Roll or any other publication, whether I want to fuck them or not, always, always plays by my rules in my house. No exceptions, not even for you.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “God, you’re so full of shit. There’s no ‘sound’ business reason for you to put the kibosh on the C-Bomb interview. You’re feeling jealous and territorial. Plain and simple. You might as well have pissed on my leg when you walked in here and found me with him, you looked so freaking jealous.”

She’s absolutely right. But there’s no way in hell I’d ever admit that. “Find something else to write about this week,” I say. “I’m done talking about this.”

Georgina lets out an exasperated sigh and sits back down on the couch. “Reed, listen to me. I need this tour. CeeCee said she’ll consider everything I write this summer as an audition for me to write for Dig a Little Deeper.” Emotion threatens at the mere thought of it, but she swallows it. “I know I could get an incredible interview of Caleb, if only I had the chance to hang out with him for a full week.”

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