by Eden Summers
Tough? Jesus Christ. Slight understatement. “Having someone disrespect you behind closed doors is ‘tough.’ Seeing your most intimate moments go viral on every online porn site is considerably more challenging.”
She’d lost her clients, the respect of her parents, and the ability to go anywhere in public with her head held high. Tough didn’t come close to what she’d gone through.
“Come on, Sid. I’m not above begging. I know the money would come in handy. And he really needs you.”
Having everyone in the music industry privy to her financial problems stung her pride more than she cared to admit. Before her vagina had a celebrity status, she’d been one of the most requested songwriters in the business. She’d worked with the best of the best, always helping to create the dreamy, love-filled lyrics capable of topping the charts. Now her image had been tainted. She no longer held the title of sweet songstress.
In fact, she wouldn’t be anything in the music industry if she didn’t get back on her feet. Her royalties were no longer sufficient to pay for the lifestyle she’d become accustomed to, and without a major infusion of income, she’d no longer have the money to pay for Justin’s wages or the Manhattan office she loved.
“How long are we talking?” she asked, regretting the words as they left her lips. Determination cleared some of the anger in her mind. She couldn’t stand the thought of Mason, yet losing Justin was a breaking point she wouldn’t allow herself to reach.
Maybe the glimmer of hope she experienced when Leah first called was for her assistant. This job, although comparable to sexual relations with Freddy Kruger, could be the only opportunity she was given to stop the unthinkable from happening.
“A week max.”
Sidney winced. Damn it. Hours seemed like a David and Goliath battle, but a whole week?
“Like I said, you can relax on your down time. You already know Mason’s property is practically a five-star resort. You won’t see each other except for the times you’re working. I promise.”
“A week is unrealistic. I’d kill him in the first twenty-four hours.” Sidney swiveled around to stare at the Manhattan street. She inhaled deeply, hating the way her heart rate increased at the mental image of the Reckless Beat singer. “And I still don’t understand why Mason would agree to this. I’d assume he’s as reluctant to work with me, as I am with him.” God knows he’d been an A-grade asshole last time they spoke.
“Like I said, he’s desperate. He’s been struggling for months, and failure is a new concept to him. It’s taken a big hit to his pride.”
Karma, how I love thee.
“I’ll think about it and get back to you,” Sidney murmured, already hating herself. The decision was almost cemented in her mind. Only, she owed Justin the opportunity to voice his opinion. His hatred of Mason ran as deeply as hers, and he’d spent a large chunk of the last two years fixing the mistakes of the arrogant singer. The least she could do was give him the respect of knowing about the agreement to collaborate before anyone else.
“Sid, I need an answer now. I have to find someone today who can be on a plane by the end of the week.”
Damn it. She needed time to level her emotions and convince Justin this was the right thing to do. She was stronger now. She still harbored major trust issues, but she was solid. This job would give her the income to secure her assistant’s position, and could be a fantastic chance to gain retribution. “I’ll call you back in five.”
“OK, I’ll be waiting. Don’t leave me hanging.”
Sidney disconnected the call and leaned back in her chair. She loved this office. Everything inside the perfectly cleaned glass doors and floor to ceiling windows was hers—the expensive furniture, the gorgeous artwork adorning the walls, the awards she’d earned over the years. Would she be able to live with herself if she declined the income opportunity, then had to break her lease because she couldn’t afford the rent? Realistically, that was how dire her position would be by the end of the year if her career didn’t regain traction soon.
Sliding her chair under her desk, she swiped the mouse-pad on her laptop and navigated to her banking website. Ouch. The numbers weren’t as healthy as she remembered, and it was all Mason’s fault. She’d built her reputation on the lyrics of innocent love. The sex tape had ripped away her clean reputation, replacing it with a tainted shadow she couldn’t get rid of.
The only hard-core rock band she’d ever worked with was Reckless Beat, and the one reason she’d taken the job was because she wanted the challenge. Justin had argued against the idea, warning her it would taint her reputation. Unfortunately, she hadn’t listened. She’d needed to know if her lyrics could make the normally arrogant, stuck-up group into something deeper. Something better.
And they had.
Her Grammy was evidence of that. But now, the squeaky-clean artists didn’t want anything to do with her, and she couldn’t stand to work with the less clean-cut musicians and maintain her dirty notoriety.
“Who was on the phone?” Justin pushed from his chair and then strode across the room to rest his hip against the white wood of her desk.
“Leah Gorman calling on behalf of Reckless Beat.”
Justin frowned. “And?” His voice was a growl, announcing he was already on the defensive.
Sidney broke eye contact and focused on her computer screen, loathing the numbers staring back at her. “She wants me to collaborate with the band again.”
“You’re kidding, right?” He laughed, his face widening in a smile until he realized she was serious. Then annoyance took hold, vibrating from him in waves. Justin had a big heart, and an even bigger commitment to protecting her. He’d held her through a million tears, and she wasn’t more grateful for anyone else in her life than she was for this man.
“Sidney? You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
She winced and shook her head. “And I’m going to take the job. We need the money.”
“We don’t need it that bad. I’ll spend more time cold calling people. We’ll find something else.”
She sighed. They’d already spent months cold calling. “Truth is, Just, if I don’t take this job, I’m not going to be able to afford keeping you on.”
“I’ll take a pay cut.” His rebuttal came without pause, adding guilt to her numb resignation.
“No.” She gave him a sad smile. “I’m not going to start paying you less. And I’m only committing to work with Mason for a few days. Who knows, maybe it will help me get over my hatred of the man while I’m there.”
“You should never stop hating him,” Justin spat, his dark-blue eyes turning icy. “He deserves your wrath and a whole lot more.”
“Yeah, but I also need to move on with my life. This could give me closure…and maybe the opportunity to torture him a little.” She waggled her brows playfully.
Justin ignored her attempt to lighten the mood and pushed from her desk in frustration. “I can’t believe you’re contemplating this. It’s fucking ridiculous.”
“It’s business,” she replied, more confident in her decision.
It was business, pure and simple. She would treat Mason the same way she always had pre-sex-tape scandal. Except this time, she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of her friendship. Collaborating required civility, nothing more. Surely she could bite her tongue for a few days.
“Let me pull up the porn site links again. I think you need a reminder of what he did to you.”
Her heart faltered. “Don’t you dare!” She knew the clip by heart, every whimper, moan, and seductive word Mason and Sean uttered.
“Fine.” Justin yanked open his desk drawer and then retrieved his wallet. “You forget his actions didn’t just affect you. I was the one who dealt with your tears, remember? I was the one who stayed on the phone with you every damn night for weeks, listening to you cry.” He slammed his drawer shut. “It was my reputation he ruined too.”
Ever the drama queen. She owed a lot to Justin, and after all this was over an
d her career started to regain traction, she would make it up to him. “I know this won’t be easy. But if you’d calm down and listen to my reasoning, you’d understand I have no other choice.”
“Right now, I’m too angry to give a shit about any of your reasons.” He turned his back, no longer piercing her with his unapologetic glare. “Just realize, I refuse to be a shoulder for you to cry on again. Not over him.” He strode to the front glass doors. “I’m going to lunch. I’ll see you in an hour.”
Good. She couldn’t handle his disapproval a moment longer. If she could push her anger to the side in the name of a decent paycheck, he could too. She didn’t want to work with Mason again. However, she would willingly assist the traitorous viper if it meant securing Justin’s future. And being the bitchy best friend she was, she’d remind him of her sacrifice once he returned from his time out.
As he stalked from the room, the office door shutting with a louder than normal click, she picked up her phone and dialed Leah’s number. Before she could rethink her decision, she committed herself to a few torturous days of hell.
“Book me a flight to Richmond on Friday,” she said, trying not to swallow her tongue. “He’ll have my undivided attention for the weekend.”
Sidney ended the call and heaved a sigh of resignation. This was it. Make or break. All or nothing. She had three days to prepare herself for Mason’s taunts. To become immune to his arrogant insults and smug smirk. This was her opportunity to become whole again. To prove her worth, not only to herself, but the world. And put the thought of the man who ruined her life to the back of her mind.
Forever.
SIDNEY IGNORED THE rampant beat of her heart as the Town Car drove inside the grand steel gates of Mason’s Richmond property. On the long drive from the airport, she’d chanted to herself—be professional. Be civil. Remain in control. Hell, she’d been telling herself the same damn thing all week, with her resolve growing stronger by the day.
After repeating the mantra for the millionth time, she was Superwoman, prepared to take on the scum of the earth. Rawr. She could do this. She’d pretended she hadn’t lost her security blanket the day her parents disowned her. She’d pretended losing her first recording contract hadn’t shattered her dreams. And she did a great job pretending the treachery from a guy she admired hadn’t broken her heart. So she could sure as shit pretend like she wasn’t going to break under the pressure of being back at the home that held so many fond memories tainted with the bitter taste of betrayal.
Mason was in there, on the other side of the elaborate, wood carved front door. It had been months since she’d been near him, yet not long enough for her to grow complacent about the unwanted effect he had on her. He’d always made her lose control—of her imagination, her heart rate, her professionalism. Now it was more sinister. Where once he’d empowered her¸ now he left her weak and fractured.
But not today.
As the car pulled to a stop in the dwindling daylight, she reached for her purse and slid from the backseat. The middle-aged driver escorted her to the trunk, helped retrieve her suitcase, and then left her standing on the pebbled circular driveway with no escape.
Her palms began to sweat as she stared down the length of the mansion, noticing the subtle changes since her last visit. There was a panel beside the gate, some form of video surveillance she assumed. Security lights hung at regular intervals along the eaves, their bright light illuminating the front of the house. A new coat of paint adorned the pretentious building, and all the vegetation had grown, now more lush and green.
She raised her chin, turning her back to the house and breathing deep of the chilly March air to regain her composure. Inside those walls, she’d lost her heart to the lead singer of Reckless Beat. It was time she reclaimed what he stole and make herself whole again.
“Hello, kitten.”
Sidney froze, her focus stuck on the front gates beckoning her to run. A shiver ran down the full length of her body, and she realized in an instant, she was wrong. She couldn’t do this. With one richly masculine endearment, her thoughts scattered and her insides clambered into her throat. He hadn’t called her kitten in a long time. She was meant to be the wildcat because she refused to be the sweet, calm, little creature he once knew. Now, she had claws and wasn’t afraid to bite.
His footsteps approached, and she scrambled to gain her grounding before they came face to face. Be professional. Be civil. Remain in control.
Biting her tongue, she turned and felt her knees weaken. He strode toward her in worn sweat pants and a loose gym tank, showing off way too much muscle. He was still gorgeous. His body more defined than she remembered, his jaw more chiseled. And she hated herself for noticing. He was calm, casual, without a care, and she was on the verge of emotional breakdown and ready to fight.
“How was your flight?”
Argh! Did he think her arrival meant she had stopped hating him? Just because she was here didn’t mean she would forgive or forget. There was no room for small talk this weekend.
“Fine,” she muttered, reaching for the handle of her suitcase, but Mason beat her to it, pulling her luggage to his side.
He eyed her with hope, the slightest spark of playfulness brightening his brown irises. She wanted to slap it out of him, to tell him to wake up. They weren’t friends and never would be. Maybe it would’ve been different if he’d shown the slightest ounce of regret—when the scandal first broke, or even in the two years that passed. Problem was, he never cared. The recording had achieved his wanted results, keeping Tough Love at the top of the charts for a record number of weeks. All it cost was her soul.
“Wh-where’s the pool house?” Fuck. She was stuttering. Fuck. She was shaking. Fuckity, fucking, fuck! She was already losing the battle to breathe normally. She’d never hated herself more than she did right now.
Calm yourself! She couldn’t let him gain control. Not of her mind or her lascivious body. She broke eye contact and ground her teeth together. Obviously, her lady bits didn’t have long-term memory. Her heart did, though. Her chest still echoed the broken beats he’d caused, and she vowed to never let herself forget what he’d done.
“Out back. But we’ll eat dinner in the dining room first.” He lifted her suitcase off the ground and paused. “I assume you haven’t eaten.”
His skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his heady aftershave scenting the air. He must have been working out, going about his daily routine like today was any other day, while she’d had to prepare herself for emotional warfare.
Jackass.
“I had a snack on the plane,” she grated. “I’ll be fine until morning.” Her stomach clenched in protest, but she ignored it, refusing to spend unnecessary time swimming through his wafting testosterone. She’d agreed to work with him, nothing more. He could shove his socializing up his finely sculpted butt.
He cleared his throat, apparently not satisfied with her answer. She didn’t care about his discomfort. She promised herself to be civil, professional at the very least. He didn’t deserve anything more.
Mason strode away, ascending the three stairs to the front door with her suitcase, before she begrudgingly followed with a defeated sigh. There was no turning back. For the next two days, she would be stuck here, doing whatever necessary to create a new album for Grander Records and secure the higher royalty rate she’d demanded in return for working with this manipulative prick.
“I like what you’ve done with your hair.” His tone was gentle as he closed the front door behind her and continued down the hall. “It suits you long.”
She planted her feet, glaring at his back, trying with all her might to keep her focus away from the defined muscles of his triceps. Calm. Professional. Control. She released a slow breath, counting to ten as the air left her lungs, then reluctantly followed after him.
He needed to acknowledge the cold shoulder she was trying to ram into his face. Being the pretentious dickwad he was, he hadn’t noticed. She was surpri
sed he even paid attention to her new look. The months of stress and public ridicule had changed her. The bonus was losing a few unwanted pounds, and she’d grown her hair to make her less recognizable. It became tiring when people stopped you on the street, trying to figure out where they’d seen you before.
“Can you direct me to the pool house, please?” Her words were well-mannered, only her tone said ‘go to hell.’ She needed to get away from him. From the muscles and the ego. From the arrogance and lack of regret. God knew it wasn’t a good idea to be strolling past the kitchen, especially when she could see a wooden block of knives sitting on top of his counter.
“This way.” He paraded around the dining room table decorated with a large vase filled with candy and opened one of the French doors leading outside. “It’s on the other side of the pool area.”
“Great,” she grated, hoping he understood the underlying ‘fuck you’ that went with it.
***
MASON HELD THE door open, trying not to falter under Sidney’s laser death-stare as she walked onto his back deck. He’d ignored the hatred clearly visible in her defiant scowl. He’d done his best to act amicable too. Clearly, she didn’t appreciate his attempts to find peaceful ground.
Game on.
He didn’t give a shit. He was happy to drop the pretense and return to the previously drawn battle lines surrounded with catty remarks and angst. Those were his forte. He sure as hell wouldn’t be bowing to her every whim or faltering under her hatred.
Bring it.
He should actually be relieved. He didn’t want to be the only one holding a grudge after all this time. Her fury meant she was still clinging to the past, letting it eat away at her like it had devoured him.
He just wished his body didn’t still react to hers. Once, her brilliance turned him harder than stone. Now, the animosity in her stare was like an infusion of Viagra to his veins. He wanted to take her hatred and throw it back at her. To slam his lips against hers, fuck her senseless and remind her how easily he could turn her languid with need. It was the “I want to fuck your shit up” vibe she was exuding that made him pause to protect his favorite asset.