I force a smile. “You’re up early for a Thursday.”
She ignores Nolan entirely. “And you’re up even earlier. Writing, I hope?”
“Of course.” I gesture grandly at the blank document on the stand in front of me. “Observe my creative genius in its rawest, most unrefined form.”
Raelynn’s mouth twitches. “There’s a reason I keep you under contract.”
“Blackmail?”
Nolan smirks.
“Talent. And market appeal.” She steps closer and her eyes narrow. “Speaking of, I came to tell you today’s schedule’s been slightly adjusted.”
I make a soundjustshort of a whine. “Is it more promo?”
“Not exactly.” Raelynn glances at Nolan. “The Palace and I have agreed you’ll be attending the Whitestone Children’s Medical Fundraiser this afternoon alongside Prince Kellen. After that, a dinner tomorrow, and an interview at the palace with Vogue next week. Then several more public events, but those are the big ones.”
She delivers this like she’s handing me a complimentary bottle of water, not a set of shackles.
“Raelynn.” I try to be as polite as a woman can be when her will to live is slipping. “When exactly am I supposed to be writing this album if you’re sending me for all of these publicity spots? ”
Raelynn raises her hands. “You’re talented enough to do both. We all know you function best under pressure. Besides, this is what you wanted, isn’t it? To make an impact? To be remembered? This is it.”
Nolan’s head lifts, eyes going hard. “She wanted to make music. Not pose for the queen’s Christmas card.”
Raelynn pivots to him, a small smile flickering. “Thank you, Mr. Pierce. I’ll take it from here, and you focus on keeping our girl safe.”
Nolan stays silent, but the air bristles with unsaid violence. His burning wood scent flares brighter.
I cut in before they can dick-measure any harder. “Raelynn, if you want this sixth album to be anything other than a contractual obligation with mid-tiered music, maybe ease off the press circus. I literally can’t write when I’m being yanked to tea parties and ribbon cuttings.”
Raelynn folds her arms. “The album’s due date was established a year ago, Piper. Long before you swooned into the prince’s arms at a charity gala on live television and decided to become the Palace’s favorite PR stunt.”
My cheeks burn and my skin prickles under my collar. The room is suddenly ten degrees too warm as sweat beads at the nape of my neck. “I didn’tdecideanything! It was a moment. People havemoments, and usually they’re taken by the Palace and turned into a PR campaign to make their own reputation look just alittle more wholesome.”
Raelynn’s lips purse but her eyes flash wildly. “The world doesn’t care if your little moment was staged or sincere. They’re eating it up either way. So are your numbers.”
“Glad to know I’m making you lots of cash,” I hiss. She’s backed me into a corner and I’m severelynota fan.
“The Palace wants you visible,” she says. “And so do I. So you’re going to these events.”
My jaw clenches so tight my molars grind together. “So basically, I’m supposed to fake-date the prince, grind out a chart-topping album,andkeep it together through all these press stops when I haven’t slept in two weeks?”
Raelynn’s voice is syrupy sweet when she says, “That’s the job. You can do it.”
I look to Nolan as he watches Raelynn like he’s calculating ifshemight be the next threat. I know he wants to tear into her. So do I.
But the reality is, Raelynn’s not wrong even if I hate her right now.
I signed up for all of this. Every inch of my soul was mortgaged at nineteen for the price of a six-album deal. It’s not a surprise that the final payment is due with interest.
The silence turns sour. Raelynn glances at her phone, her time too valuable to waste. “You’ll be on time for the eventthis afternoon. Please wear something respectful. Nothing see-through and no Piper-special crop tops.”
She’s already out the door before I can flip her off.
The tension in the room deflates as the click of her heels fades down the hallway.
Nolan lets out a slow exhale and stands. “That woman is poison.”
