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“Ow,” he gasps, rubbing the spot I hit. “Rude as fuck,” he mutters, turning his attention back to the boys sitting silently around the table.
Their eyes avoid each other’s, and their bodies stiffen when Rad shifts in his chair, giving a bored yawn.
“They hate each other,” I mutter, intently watching their every move. “They…” Fuck. My brothers are right. “Give me their files,” I groan with reluctance.
Seger grins, shoving every file on the band into my hands. “That’s everything. Their numbers. Their profiles. Everything you need to light a fire under their fucking asses and get them back on track.”
I sigh, flipping through the pages quickly and slamming them shut. A devious smile falls across my lips the more I watch them. At the lowest point in my life, they left me with nothing, depriving me of the partners I needed the most. They intentionally left without the knowledge that they could have cleared my name. If only they had understood. If only they had come back and talked it over like adults. A fire brews in my gut. My face hardens, and a new resolve festers in the depths of my mind. I hate them for what they did. But if this is my destiny, then so be it. Maybe they’ll survive the boot camp I put them through. Or perhaps, I’ll discard them within the first month of our contract. If they sign it, that is.
“Fine. I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to be nice or understanding. They may have been something to me at one point in my life. But not now. They’ll have to work hard. No passes. And definitely no Lyric.” I raise a brow when my brothers nod in agreement. “I’ll have the movers on standby to collect their shit,” I mumble, sending out an email to the company we always use in cases like this.
“Riv, they’ll have to meet her at some point. You can’t hide her forever. One look at her and him,” Zepp says, gesturing to Kieran as he leans back in the chair, stretching his arms over his head. “They’ll know.”
“A problem for another day,” I gripe, waving a hand. “Now, I’ll go work my magic.” Nerves eat away at me with every step I take in their direction.
Five years ago, Callum saw something he misinterpreted into something more. His tear-filled expression haunts every aspect of my life. For years, I wished I could go back in time and redo that entire thing, starting with not allowing Van into my apartment. Now, I’m faced with the four assholes who served me with multiple restraining orders in Illinois and told me they wanted nothing to do with our child. Thankfully, my beautifully brilliant sister-in-law looked into it a year ago and confirmed they expired within the first year.
“Get it, sis,” Seger mutters, pumping a fist as I turn the knob on the back door and heave a breath.
“If this is a bloodbath, I’m claiming insanity and blaming you two,” I quip, narrowing my eyes at my brothers.
“Fucking worth it,” Seger says, barking out a laugh. “I’ll get the fucking popcorn while you obliterate them into submission.” Promptly, I flip him off, trying to shake the terror from my trembling fingers.
In two point five seconds, I’ll be face to face with the assholes who broke my heart. And I’m supposed to guide them into a better future, eliminating any sort of distraction.
Fat chance.
As my heels click against the hardwood floors of the conference room, my heart beats double time. I’m breathing the same air as them again and standing before the four assholes still glaring down at their phones. They don’t even have enough respect to look up and watch the person entering the room with a fire under her ass and revenge bleeding through her veins.
Once I step up to the long conference table, I set the files down lightly on the gleaming wood and take stock of the men around me. A smirk pulls at my lips as I gain their attention one by one, reveling in the paleness that takes over their faces.
“Hello, boys, my name is River West, and I’m your new band manager. Congratulations,” I say, cocking my head when various emotions cross their pale faces.
Yeah. Revenge will be delightful, slow, and painful. Whispered Words will one-hundred percent get everything that's coming to them—all in due time.
“How about we get started?” I hum.
