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“We need to wait until morning. I’ve got a headache,” I croaked, my head pounding and my eyes feeling like they were going to melt out of my head.
He took my arm and began to lead me down a hallway that led to the office he used in the mansion. “We need to go over them now. Especially with the recent headlines about you, we need to lock these agreements in place before the companies decide to revoke them based on bad publicity.”
I pulled on my arm, but he was holding it in a firm grip. It at least got him to slow down. “I don’t think I’m going to be signing up for the next tour. I need a break. I’m exhausted. And if I do play, I want it to be at smaller venues, like at music clubs or something. Places that feel more intimate.”
His face curled up in disgust. “Why the fuck would you want something like that? You’re at the top of your game. You need to keep pushing. They won’t always want you, so you have to take advantage while they do.”
That was a threat he and my mother always had. Everything was about the next big thing in music. It wasmeright now, but in a moment’s notice…it could be someone else. So I had to push, push, push until that other person came along.
My headache pulsed and a wave of nausea built up in my throat. When was the last time I’d eaten? Were pills and alcohol really all I’d had today?
I yanked on my arm this time, forcing him to let me go. “I’m not signing up for the tour. I’m tired. I—” my voice hitched. “I can’t continue like this.”
There was no sign of understanding in his gaze, no sign that he empathized…or that he cared. Instead his gaze grew hard and flinty, filling me with a sense of unease.
“Marco?” my mother said, coming around the corner and making the situation even worse. “What’s the problem with the brat now?”
“Princesshere is saying she needs a break. She’s refusing to head out on the next tour..despite all the time that’s already been put into planning it. Despite all the people that are counting on it to put food on the table for their families.”
That was also something they used quite often, the threat of all the jobs that would be lost if “Olivia Darling” was no longer in business.
Except I was so tired at the moment, so out of sorts, so done…I couldn’t find it in myself to really care.
“They’ll understand that I’m human, and sometimes, I need a break.”
My mother’s red polished fingernails dug into my skin. “Spoken like a girl who doesn’t understand how lucky she is,” she spat.
Vomit filled my mouth, and I choked it back. I pulled my arm from her grasp and started to back away from the two snarling assholes in front of me.
“What’s wrong, princess, need another hit?” Marco asked cajolingly, holding up the pills that he and my mother kept control over so they were my only access point.
Believe me, I’d tried to get ahold of some of those myself, and somehow they blocked me successfully at every attempt.
“I’m going to bed. And you can tell everyone, AS MY AGENT, that I’m taking a break. I’m not deciding on tours, or music…or my next record deal until I’m ready.”
My heart was fluttering like mad around me, sweat beading on my forehead with the effort to stand up to them like this.
But I couldn’t do it anymore. Something had to change.
Marco patted my mother’s back, and his face gentled. “You know, you’re completely right. You have been working hard…you need a break. Youdeservea break.”
I wrinkled my nose in confusion at his about face, waiting for him to add one of those all important “buts” to his sentence.
“We shouldn’t be talking about what’s next. We should be celebrating what you’ve just accomplished! A sold out tour, including ten football stadiums…you’ve truly catapulted to new heights.”
My mother side-eyed him and then shrugged. “It’s true, Olivia. We owe you an apology. You have been working so hard.”
Had aliens invaded their bodies? Why was my mother’s tone so nice? I eyed them suspiciously.
“Thank you for understanding,” I said slowly, not trusting a word coming out of their mouths. “I’m just going to head to bed now.”
“Nonsense,” Marco said, beckoning me to his office. “We need to have a celebration drink, just a nightcap to celebrate a job well done.”
No way was I taking alcohol from him. He’d probably spike my drink. But the way they were so intently watching me…I would just go in and sit with them for five minutes. Then I would excuse myself. I’d stood up to them, I’d actually done it. I could do this.
Marco gestured to his office and I followed him into the room that he’d had completely redone to suit his taste—despite the fact that this wasn’t his house…and I wasn’t his only client. It wasn’t normal that he was here like this. But he and Jolette had insisted on it..so it had been done.
The room was out of place in the rest of the mansion, which was the epitome of traditional. His office had been done with clean lines and a monochromatic color schemethat screamed “modern.” The walls were covered with abstract artwork, their bold strokes and vibrant colors providing a striking contrast to the otherwise muted palette of the room. His desk was a polished slab of dark wood, adorned only with a few essential items—a sleek computer, a designer lamp, and a stack of contracts and scripts. Shelves lined one wall of the office, displaying an array of awards and accolades…all thanks to my work. Golden statuettes, glistening trophies, and framed certificates sparkled in the ambient light.
