And if Claire sued, or if the tabloids persisted, or if more rumors abounded—he simply knew he and Brenna would get through it, together, and everything would be okay in the end because he’d still have her. He’d always thought his job was the only thing that really mattered to him, the thing he couldn’t live without. But he’d just made room for something else—someone else—in his life, and Claire Starr and nasty accusations aside, the world felt pretty fucking perfect right now.
“Happy?” he asked as they walked down the hall toward his suite, still holding hands.
She smiled up at him, biting her lip. “Very. Happy and…dusty,” she said, giggling. They were both covered with a fine sheen of desert powder.
“The price of fucking in the dirt,” he said with a grin, remembering how he’d moved on top of her, in the dreaded missionary position—which, suddenly, had felt a lot more intimate than dreadful—and how much he’d welcomed that intimacy this time. “How about this?” he asked. “I’ll run us a nice, sudsy bath in the Jacuzzi, and we’ll make sure you get that orgasm, after all.”
Four
Damon had disappeared into the oversize bathroom, and now she heard water running. “I’m getting naked,” he yelled out to her. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
She called back, “I’ll be right there, baby—just want to check my messages first.” Because the moment they’d walked in, she’d seen her cell phone blinking. And it had reminded her of…everything.
The horrible lie, the threat to Damon’s job.
And she wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to do, but she wasn’t going to let anything ruin this, what the two of them had. She was going to work this out somehow. She was going to convince Jenkins that no matter what Claire Starr did, Damon was too valuable to let go. And she would figure out a way to tell Damon the truth.
Standing in the bedroom, listening to the tub filling and anxious to get to her man, she quickly retrieved the missed call.
“Hey, girlfriend, it’s just me.” Kelly. What a relief! No Jenkins. “I just called to see how your big week with Damon Andros went, but I guess you’re not back yet—I wasn’t sure exactly when you were coming home. Anyway, I can’t wait to hear all about it, and I hope I find out you came to your senses and fucked that man’s brains out.”
Brenna flipped the phone shut, smiling to herself and rolling her eyes. Kelly was going to be thrilled. Not that Brenna was going to tell her everything. Some things were so private that she could share them only with Damon. But still, her friend was going to be very pleased to hear how things had worked out.
“I’m waiting,” Damon called playfully from the bathroom.
“On my way,” she replied, starting toward him—when her cell phone rang, still in her hand. “In a minute,” she added. “Let me grab this call and I’ll be right there—promise.” Then she flipped the phone back open and put it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hello, Brenna.”
Shit. This time it was Jenkins.
Her heart pounded as she walked briskly out through the dining area, across the living room to the windows that looked out on the Las Vegas lights. “Hi,” she said, sounding terse.
“I know it’s late, but I just got some news I thought would interest you.”
Oh God. “What?”
“Claire Starr is going to file suit first thing tomorrow morning. Which means Damon’s out. As soon as he gets back here tomorrow, I’m going to call him into the office and give him the bad news. So I hope you learned the ropes this week.”
Brenna let out a sigh. She’d really hoped to broach this in the office, without having the Claire Starr thing feeling like the definite threat it did now, but…well, she’d just take a different approach. She’d get into the heart of the matter—Damon being indispensable—later, but for now, she’d just speak in terms Jenkins could understand without a longwinded discussion. “Listen, I’ve learned a lot, but not enough yet. So I think it would be unwise to fire Damon right now. I’m coming home tomorrow, too, so before you call him, please wait. I’ll come straight to the office and we’ll talk about this, okay?”
“No,” he said. That simple.
“What?”
“Brenna, I understand your trepidation about having the job dropped in your lap this quickly, but I just can’t have Damon associated with Blue Night any longer. We’re being sued because of him. Firing him is the only way to send a clear message that Blue Night doesn’t turn a blind eye to sexual blackmail. So repeat after me: Damon is fired, and I’m taking his place.”
Brenna let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Damon is fired, and I’m taking his place. I’ve been in on the plan from the beginning, remember? But I still—”
“No buts, Brenna. It’s late and I’m tired, and I’m gonna have a media circus to deal with tomorrow. So we’ll talk when you get back. After Damon’s been let go. Good night.”
The line went dead. And Brenna flipped the phone shut, still peering out on the neon display twenty floors below.
And it was just when she realized that the water had stopped running at some point that she turned—to find Damon standing naked behind her.
But instead of focusing on his nudity, her attention was drawn to his eyes—which told her he’d just heard her terrible secret. Her horrendous betrayal. Because she’d been stupid enough to actually talk with Jenkins about this while Damon was in the next room.
“Oh God,” she said, her body deflating as she stepped instinctively toward him. “Damon, this wasn’t my idea, I swear.” She shook her head. “And I didn’t want to do things this way. At all. You have to believe me.”
“No,” he said quietly, anger blazing from his eyes. “I don’t.”
She suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe. “I promise you, I didn’t want to take your job, and I was planning—I’m still planning—to go to Jenkins tomorrow and tell him firing you would be a terrible mistake.”
“Be quiet, Brenna,” he said, sounding too calm, only his eyes relaying his emotions, “and leave.”
She drew in her breath. This couldn’t be happening. “Damon, please. Let me explain. Let me make you understand.”
“You can’t.” He pointed toward the door of the suite, his voice turning harsher. “Now get the fuck out of my room.”
Brenna’s heart physically hurt—her eyes, too, as tears began rolling down her cheeks. She reached out to touch him, but he pulled away. “Please, Damon,” she begged. “Please. Give me a chance.”
“I already did. And you used it to steal my fucking job, to fucking lie to me.” He shook his head. “You had me fooled, that’s for damn sure. Here I thought you were so sweet, so…so fucking genuine.” He laughed without mirth at what he probably thought was irony.
She held her hands out in front of her, helpless, beseeching. “Everything was real. Everything between us. I swear, Damon.”
But again, he just pointed to the door. “I don’t need any more lying, deceitful bitches in my life, Brenna. Get out. I mean it. I don’t want to hear another word from your lying mouth.”
Brenna didn’t know what to do. She feared her chest would burst. Her eyes ached, her nose was running from crying, and her legs had grown weak. And Damon wouldn’t listen to reason, wouldn’t even let her try to make him understand.
“Now!” he yelled, making her flinch.
So, like a frightened puppy with its tail between its legs, she scurried toward the foyer, picking up her purse on the way, stopping only to look back at him when she’d reached the double doors.
“Get out,” he said one more time, low, menacing, as if he couldn’t believe she was still there, still trying to hang on to him.
She had no choice but to open the door and walk out, letting it shut behind her. Leaving behind the man she loved, the man who, miraculously, had loved her, too—until he’d found out about her lie.
She’d known from the start that this was a bad idea. But she couldn’t have imagined how much she’d h
ave to lose when it was over. And she felt as if she’d just lost…everything.
THE WAGES OF SIN
“Great eagerness in the pursuit of wealth, pleasure, or honor, cannot exist without sin.”
—Desiderius Erasmus
One
Brenna was exhausted. She’d barely slept in days. Maybe weeks. She’d returned from Las Vegas both physically and mentally wiped out, and rest had been nearly nonexistent in the two weeks since.
She sat at her desk with her head in her hands. Her new desk, at the Blue Night offices, which was shoved into a tiny corner. She’d decided to keep working from the office, despite the fact that Damon had worked from home, because she currently spent about half of each day putting out fires Jenkins’ new administrative assistant couldn’t yet handle and—Brenna feared—maybe never would.
Just then, the new girl, Collette, rounded the corner. “Brenna, the copier is jammed again. And that reporter guy I told you about called again for Jenkins, and I don’t think he believes me when I say he’s not in.”
Brenna just sighed. Then fixed the copier. And explained to Collette to simply keep lying to the reporter, explaining, “It doesn’t matter whether or not he believes you.” Of course, she’d never had to lie about Jenkins not being in—only since the shit had hit the fan two weeks ago had that started. But unlike her, she didn’t think Collette minded lying—she just wasn’t very good at it.
Upon returning to her own desk, Brenna contemplated how to handle the rest of her day—minus future interruptions from Collette. She’d quickly learned that having such an unstructured job made it easy to put off doing the less desirable parts.
Like calling back Blush’s new manager. She supposed it was smart of them to hire one, but why had they had to go and get a heavy hitter like Tommy Max, the toughest guy in L.A.? He’d been a thorn in her side for a week, making demands she had no idea if she could fulfill.
She also had a message on her desk from Malcolm Barstow, whom she’d inherited from Damon—and who was none too happy Damon was gone. He was threatening to leave the moment his contract was up and she hadn’t the first idea how to convince him not to, especially now that he was big enough to go with one of the majors if he wanted.
She’d once thought being an A&R rep would give her a feeling of importance, security. Ha! All it had given her was a constant headache. And a broken heart.
Strange—she’d only had a week with Damon, but she couldn’t get used to sleeping without him again. The bed had felt lonely after her breakup with Wayne, too, but this was different. More of a guttural need than a plain feeling of loneliness.
She hadn’t seen Damon or heard from him since the night she’d left his Las Vegas suite in tears. And she hated—just hated—knowing he thought she was that kind of person. The conniving, manipulative kind. The entertainment business was full of them, though, so under the circumstances, she couldn’t really blame him.
She just wished…well, she wasn’t sure what she wished exactly.
If she hadn’t agreed to Jenkins’ plan in the first place, she never would have gotten to know Damon. And if she’d been honest with him at any point in their week together, it would have changed everything. He wouldn’t have fallen for her—she knew that much.
She just wished…that she was still in Sin City, with Damon, learning more and more of those new ways to sin.
When someone came whizzing around the corner to her desk, she expected Collette but instead looked up to find Kelly in a stunning coral suit. “Hey,” her friend said. “How’s it going?”
Kelly, of course, knew everything that had happened. Well, not about Rendezvous or Caligula’s, but she knew about the sex, and the love, and the heartbreak. She knew it had ripped Brenna apart to have Damon fired and to see news about Claire Starr’s lawsuit splashed all over the entertainment headlines. And she knew Brenna was finding his A&R shoes challenging to fill.
Brenna just shrugged. “So-so.” But then she reconsidered. “Although I’m afraid of Malcolm Barstow and Tommy Max, so I can’t bring myself to return their calls. So maybe a more accurate answer would be…sucky. It’s going sucky.”
Kelly winced. “Sorry. And maybe this isn’t the best time to tell you this, but…I just got a press release announcing that Damon is starting his own label.”
She sat up straighter, stunned. “You’re kidding.”
Kelly shook her gorgeous blond head. “He found a few investors who believe in him, and he’s back in business. He’s calling the label Inspiration.”
“Oh, that’s so great!” Brenna said. Music was Damon’s life, and she was thrilled to hear he was carving out a new place for himself in the industry this quickly.
“Great?” Kelly looked aghast. “No, it’s not great. It’s awful. We don’t need this kind of competition right now.” Kelly hissed in her breath slightly, making a face of regret. “No offense, but…”
Brenna nodded matter-of-factly. “But I don’t know what I’m doing. I agree. So you’re probably right. This is terrible news for Blue Night. Still…I’m glad for Damon. He didn’t deserve what happened.”
“Oh, and here’s your mail.” Kelly dropped a small handful of it into the in-box on the corner of Brenna’s desk. “Collette saw me walking this way and asked me to bring it. Lazy ass. I worry about her, Brenna. I don’t think she’s catching on.”
Brenna sighed. “Yeah, I know. The whole place is crumbling around us.”
“And I get to handle the PR nightmare of it all. Yippee for me.” Kelly pointed over her shoulder toward her office. “So I’d better get back to it. But…speaking of Damon, how are you doing in that way? Getting over him a little by now, I hope.”
Another large sigh left her, which she supposed answered Kelly’s question. Added to everything else, the very thought of him—of them, together—made her feel as if her chest was being crushed.
“Oh, hon,” Kelly said, reaching down to squeeze her hand. “Want to get drunk after work?”
Never in her life had Brenna purposely set out to get drunk for the sake of escaping problems or pain. It just wasn’t in her makeup. So as tempting as the offer was, she said, “Thanks anyway, but I’m gonna try to tough it out sober.”
After Kelly departed, Brenna picked up her fresh stack of mail, gasping when she saw the return address on the first piece. It had come from the freaking Playboy Mansion! Ripping into the expensive stationery, she found an invitation to one of the place’s famed pajama parties. Oh God.
It was her worst nightmare come true. Exactly the sort of thing she’d dreaded. Because she should go. Because she needed to meet more people, get to know others in the entertainment industry and L.A.’s party scene.
But she couldn’t.
Only not for the reasons she would have expected—not because she was horrified by the very thought, or would feel underconfident or embarrassed. She simply didn’t want to go anyplace with that kind of sexual aura without Damon at her side.
And—what if Damon was there? With some other woman? Or more than one? She didn’t think she could handle that. The wounds were too fresh.
Oh, who was she kidding? She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to take that.
So you can’t return phone calls from your artists.
And you’re willingly turning down A-list networking opportunities.
Yep, you’re doing a real bang-up job here, Brenna.
Just then, the phone on her desk rang and she snatched it up, praying it wasn’t Tommy Max or Malcolm. “Brenna Cayton.”
“Uh, yeah—hi. This is Austin. Austin Cole. I met you a few weeks ago.”
Oh, wow! When Damon’s firing had hit the airwaves, Collette had taken a message from Austin’s mother canceling their meeting. Brenna had been deeply disappointed, figuring they’d decided to go with the other label, but she’d been dealing with so much that she hadn’t pursued it further.
“Yes, of course. Hi, Austin. I’m happy to hear from you. I hope I can meet with you
and your mom again soon.”
“That’s the thing,” the boy said. “She’s pretty set on me going with the other guys. But it’s mainly because of Damon getting fired and all that. So…I guess I’m just confused. I don’t really want to write off Blue Night until we talk some more.”
“Like I said, I’d love to talk more. And I can understand your mother’s concerns, but…” She sighed, not sure how honest to be, yet given that honesty was her natural inclination, she went with it. God knew lying hadn’t gotten her very far. “Just between you and me, Austin, I can tell you that Damon is innocent in all this—he’s just getting a bad deal. So please don’t base your decision on what you hear in the media.”
On the other end of the phone, Austin sighed again, and she could feel his confusion. God, he was only a teenager, not even out of high school. How could he be expected to know what to do, how to make the right choice? And his career might well ride on that decision.
Her heart nearly beat through her chest when she realized what she was about to do, but she couldn’t stop herself. Because it was right. It was the most right thing she’d done in a couple of weeks now. “Austin, can I give you some advice, from the heart, just between you and me?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Damon just started a new label—called Inspiration. And despite everything that’s happened to him, he’s a good guy, and in my opinion, the best guy to handle your music. If I were you, I’d go with Damon.”
When she hung up the phone fifteen minutes later, she plunked it down, then plunked her head on her desk. She’d just given away her chance to build something at Blue Night, her chance to make a mark in the industry.
Shit.
But she still knew it was right. For so many reasons.
So instead of beating herself up for it, she just prayed Jenkins would never find out, then picked the phone back up and dialed Kelly’s extention.
“Kelly Mills, Blue Night PR.”
Seven Nights of Sin Page 24