Page 17 of Ravaged For You

“Yeah, I was a roadie,” he says with a faraway glaze. “I used to do everything for a band. Moved their gear. Cleaned their vans. Good times they were. Met the most amazing woman…”

And then he’s back in the room.

“Sorry, Maddie. Got lost there.”

I wave him off.

I don’t get why he’s talking about being a roadie, but it sounds like the clients are the product we’ll be advertising. That’s unusual for a marketing agency like Focus. We deal with brands, not personalities.

Who are these clients and why are they so special?

Glancing at the window behind me that looks into the office, Winston suddenly stands up.

I spin in my seat to see what he’s looking at.

It seems like the new clients have made it to our floor.

And it’s not just any regular old clients you might expect as a marketing agency. A bunch of lawyers in suits or corporate guys.

These ones are definitely special.

Instead of the usual old men in suits, the very same Greek gods I saw on stage last night are strolling through the office. They are walking through the shocked room like they own the ground they step on.

Ravaged the band is the client Winston has been talking about.

8

MADDIE

I want to pinch myself.

Is this real? Is this actually freaking happening?

I spot Marie standing at her desk, eyes widening as she takes in Ravaged not even ten yards away from her. What remains, after the hangover, of any color in her face is quickly draining away. It appears that she’s dangerously close to fainting.

I also can’t take my eyes off our new visitors. Oh, it’s definitely them, for sure. That unmistakable swagger and cocky confidence and everything. Caspian’s at the back; a wide burly frame who strolls in with a cool silent alertness. He doesn’t look real. I mean, Jesus, he’s built like Dwayne Johnson. In front of him is Drake, flicking his curly hair back in a very sexy way and very much enjoying the attention like the show-off he is. Next is Bishop, taking in the office surroundings with his dark, intelligent gaze.

And up front is Axel, sauntering ahead of the pack with a rockstar’s flourish. He’s wearing a leather jacket over a tight t-shirt that reveals an outline of his hard pecs, a black pair of skinny jeans, and boots. The band all appear so out of place in a corporate office like this, but everyone is staring at them with awe and respect. Even the old men of the office, who I have long suspected wouldn’t know what pop culture is even when slapping them in the face, are unblinkingly gawping at Ravaged.

It seems the only person in the entire building who doesn’t care that four of the biggest names in the world have just walked into the office is Winston. He gets up from the desk calmly opposite me and points to the meeting room’s door.

“Okay, Maddie, you want to follow me and meet the new clients?” he asks.

What did he just say?

I gulp. “Meet them?” My voice breaks.

Winston nods like what he’s just said is such a normal run-of-the-mill thing to say and not the craziest thing I’ve heard all year. “Yes, Maddie, they’re our potential clients. And, unfortunately, your last hope of remaining here.”

“Um. Okay…”

So. I simply follow Winston out of the meeting room to just casually meet the most famous band on the planet. In my shock, I quickly take my mug of tea with me. I don’t know why. I don’t even want to drink it anymore. I don’t think I can stomach it. Anyway, it’s gone cold now.

Winston is already shaking their hands when I reach him from the meeting room. They all stand in a semi-circle in the middle of the office, watched silently by everyone I work with like it’s some kind of theater show. Some guy who looks deadly serious accompanies the band. I assume he’s their manager. Winston speaks to him for a moment and then turns to the rest of the band. Names are exchanged. It’s all such a blur.

But then it’s my turn.

“This is Maddie,” Winston introduces, waving his hand at me. “She’s one of the publicists who will take care of you.”