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My middle finger rises.
Lily and I really are the worst-kept secret. It only makes me feel worse about Casey. She is going to be hurt and pissed when she finds out. And she will find out because when I get Lily back, there will be no more hiding. From anyone.
I step out of the car onto the black-tiled floor, take a left, foregoing the reception area, and head straight for my office. I walk through the cubicles and desks that surround the main offices, nodding with a grin at the employees, starting their day and ignoring their shocked faces when I do.
I stop at my temp secretary’s desk before I walk into the office. “When Miss Martin arrives, send her straight in. No interruptions once she’s here.”
He eyes me up and down, as he has every day this week. I know he’s wondering why I’m not in a suit and tie. This guy came from one of those Wall Street firms. If this were any other company, I’m sure it would be required, but it’s a record label. No one expects us to dress like, well, an attorney. Not that I’m opposed to professional attire. I wear it when I must, but it’s not my style.
This guy is the one who stands out like a sore thumb. My everyday wardrobe of black on black, from the leather jacket to the boots is perfectly on par.
I push my door open and step into my office, which looks like all the others. Two black walls on each side, glass on the two opposite sides, and light carpeting. The entire floor is decorated in the same theme, with bits of red tossed here and there.
When it was first done almost a year ago, I assumed the then-new owners were kissing the asses of their most successful artist, at least, and more likely, attempting to kiss Maddox’s ass. Turns out, it was his dad and brother, and his dad arranged for everything to be decorated like this. I think it might have been his way to let Maddox know he paid attention.
My office is bare apart from the furniture that was already there. Hanging art, pictures, or whatever hasn’t seemed important, not that I have anything to hang. It seems like a waste of time to me.
But I rearranged the office when I took over. I didn’t want my back to the massive windows overlooking the city, so I moved the L-shaped executive desk to the wall to the right of the door. I can look at the city and see who’s coming if I choose. In place of the desk, I moved the leather sofas and armchairs. It creates a more comfortable setting for meetings or long nights when they’re necessary.
Okay, so maybe I’m planning for long nights with one person in particular.
When I press the button, the computer powers on. The two monitors and the backlit keyboard light up. After slinging my jacket on the back, I plant myself into the too-expensive-for-life chair that was left behind and start working through emails.
Most are unimportant. A few are from our A&R director with digital files for me to check out for possible songs to license and a couple of artists they think have potential.
I scrub my hand over my face as I listen to the files, knowing that my job description won’t fit the norm of the title. The responsibilities and duties list on the contract was far more extensive and reaching than what most consider the role to encompass, but I knew the traditional role was tossed the minute they told me they wanted me to handle Lily.
These fuckers are determined to get me involved in the music. The part of it all I’ve avoided for a decade.
A few of the songs have potential, so I type up a response to the email, telling the director to get the songwriters in the office and make them an offer. The artists… yeah, not so much.
I glance at my gold Breitling watch—a gift from the band—and groan when I realize I still have another half hour before my reason for existing arrives. Concentrating on anything but her impending arrival won’t be possible, so I do the only thing I can. I pull up her demo file and listen.
I’ve listened to every song, every day, on repeat. The words and music are embedded in my brain, but this time, I put my personal feelings aside and listen critically.
Raw was the perfect word to describe it. The entire set list is raw, vulnerable, and packed with so much passion and emotion, it’s breathtaking.
But Maddox was right. Something is missing.
It’s my job to figure out what.
And it will be my job to convince her I’m right.
These assholes couldn’t have given me a more difficult job because even if she knows I’m right, she’s going to dig her heels in for no other reason than because she can. It will drive me insane. I will question my choices in life. Maybe even consider throwing myself—or her—off the roof.
As I listen to an especially angry song that sounds like she would like to fire roast a particular man—I’m more than aware I am that man—after peeling the skin from his body, I consider nipping this shit in the bud right now. Forcing her to listen to what she wouldn’t before.
My shoulders lift with a heavy, irritated sigh, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. If I force her, she still won’t hear me. There are only two ways she will ever believe me. If I have proof, which I have no fucking idea how to get, or she’s going to have to ask. And my biggest fear is she still won’t believe it.
Liam
A knock at the door makes my mouth purse. My eyes narrow as I stare at the long curves through the glass. Her dark eyes narrow right back at me. “Don’t just stand there, Tiger Lily,” I bellow, making her narrowed glare grow darker.
“Don’t call me that,” she hisses as she opens the door. “People might hear.” Oh, how the tide has turned.
I flip the switch under my desk, darkening the windows. Her eyes swing to the glass and back to me. “If you think something will happen besides absolute professionalism, you’ll be disappointed.”
I point at the chair in front of my desk. “Sit.”
