Pop Rock
Charity Ferrell
Contents
Other Books By Charity Ferrell
Description
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Connect
Acknowledgments
Pop Rock
Copyright © 2016 Charity Ferrell
All rights reserved.
www.charityferrell.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, places, and incidents are either product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Other Books By Charity Ferrell
Beneath Our Faults
Bad For You
Karma
Breaking Karma
Revive Me
Pretty & Reckless
Stepbrother Aflame
Description
We’ve all seen the headlines about him.
Knox Rivers is music’s out of control, all over TMZ, and under the impression that he’s God’s gift to the female population bad boy.
He steals hearts with his music and then breaks them with his behavior.
He’s also my new boss, and I'm going to be traveling across the country with him on tour.
There’s no way I would’ve taken the job if I weren’t so desperate, but after my dad lost all of his money for not paying taxes, I'm left broke, homeless, and unable to pay my tuition only a year shy of receiving my degree.
I have this under control. I’m the daughter of a rock legend who’s used to being around these types of men, but I’m finding myself more drawn to him with every passing mile.
I'm fighting to keep our relationship professional while he's pushing to show me there's more to him that what's plastered all over the tabloids.
Desire starts triumphing my rationality.
I’m throwing all my rules out the window.
I’ll deal with the repercussions when the gas tank runs dry.
Prologue
Libby
My life as I knew it came crashing down on me two weeks ago.
I’m no longer Libby Graves – the wealthy daughter of Ritchie Graves, rock legend and lead singer of The Grave Diggers.
I’m now Libby Graves – the broke off her ass woman who lost her condo and is close to being kicked out of college only a year shy of receiving her degree if she doesn’t come up with tuition.
Three days ago, my dad’s former manager stepped in and offered me a job.
One I’d never take if I weren’t so damn desperate.
But the pay is too good to pass up.
The problem?
I’ll be working for the kind of person I despise more than anything.
A celebrity.
And not just any celebrity.
He’s the worst of the batch.
My new employer is a young, attractive, out of control, all over TMZ, and is under the impression that he’s God’s gift to the female population celebrity.
Fuck my life.
1
Libby
I’ve never been someone who regrets the choices they’ve made.
I like to look at them as life lessons.
Losing my virginity at sixteen to a lying asshole taught me that guys would say anything to get into your panties, even throw out that all cherished four-letter word.
Stealing my father’s Corvette and going on a weekend road trip with my best friend taught me that showing a little cleavage can get you out of spending the night in a jail cell.
My rock star father turning himself into a Federal Correctional Facility last week taught me there are only two certainties in life – death and taxes, and not to depend on other people to pay your bills because when they go broke, your ass goes broke.
But I have a hunch that might change today as I step out of the Uber car and head into the high-rise office building as the California sun throws her heat down on me.
This is the last situation I thought I’d ever be in, but when you’re broke and desperate, you do shit you don’t want to do.
Thomas’ secretary greets me with a smile when I walk out of the elevator and into the lobby. “Thomas is running late,” she says. “He told me to have you wait in his office.”
I sigh, nodding. Damn you, Thomas. “Thank you.”
I pull out my phone and start sending him a text that he better hurry his ass up as I open his office door.
“It’s about damn time you showed up.”
The deep, edgy voice catches me off guard, causing my phone to fall from my hand onto the carpeted floor. I look up to face whoever this rude ass is, and my mouth falls open when I see him standing across the room. He’s casually leaning back against the beige wall, his muscular arms folded over his chest, and a smug, imperious smile is spread along his lips.
He isn’t Thomas – but I’m fully aware of who he is – along with millions of other people in the world.
I’ve watched him perform on TV at award shows, and his photo is plastered all over every gossip magazine, but I’ve never seen him in person. They aren’t exaggerating when they talk about how ridiculously attractive he is.
There’s no denying he’s solidly built underneath his thin, white t-shirt where I can faintly see the evidence of his nipples showing through. A few days old stubble scatters along his lower cheeks and strong chin. He’s wearing a baseball cap, most likely trying to look inconspicuous, and strands of toffee brown hair peeks out along its edges.
Everything about him screams masculinity and arrogance.
This man, ladies and gentleman, is Knox Rivers.
He’s my new boss and America’s favorite bad boy.
“Fuck,” he hisses, a hint of apology on his face. “I thought you were Thomas. The guy is always on my ass about how being late is so damn unprofessional.” He throws his arms out, gesturing to the Thomas-less room. “Yet, I’m the only one here.”
I nervously bend down to pick up my phone and slip it back into my bag. He’s not the only one who wishes Thomas wasn’t running late.
He gives me a once over, his green eye
s narrowing in on me with suspicion. “Who are you?”
“I’m Libby,” I answer, like he should know exactly who I am.
He throws his head back, groaning. “Shit, is that why I’m here?” He looks back at me. “You another chick claiming to be carrying my love child or some shit? You’re wasting both of our time, sweetheart. I always wear a condom and do early paternity tests.”
What the?
He can’t seriously think I’m here to baby blackmail him?
“That would be a huge negative,” I answer.
He’s still looking at me like I’m lying about fake carrying his baby.
“I’m the new hire.”
He keeps staring.
What the fuck?
“Your new assistant,” I draw out in clarification.
He scowls. “I’m sorry, you’re my new what?”
“New assistant.”
The hell? I thought that’s why we’re meeting here today?
“You’ve got the wrong guy, sunshine. I didn’t hire a new assistant. So whatever your little plan here is, it’s not going to work.”
I’m going to throw Thomas out that window when he gets here.
The sound of a loud clap causes me to jump, and I turn around to see Thomas standing in the doorway with a bright smile on his face.
Fucking finally.
Perfect timing. He had to show up post awkward baby momma conversation.
“Great, I see you two have met,” he says, shutting the door behind him and walking over to his desk. He plops down in the massive leather chair and tilts his head towards the two open seats in front of him. “Have a seat.”
I do as I’m told. I’m a rule follower.
Knox obviously isn’t, because he stays exactly where he is, the same scowl on his face like someone told him he couldn’t have any more cookies.
He points to me. “This chick said she’s my new assistant, which is news to me, considering I don’t remember hiring her.”
I gulp, looking back and forth between the two men.
This meeting definitely isn’t going as planned.
I expected Knox to give me a hard time. Men like him think if they have money and a Grammy on display in their living room they can do whatever they please, but I figured Thomas would’ve at least given him a heads up that he was getting a new assistant.
“You didn’t hire her,” Thomas answers. “I did.”
“I like the assistant I have just fine.”
“You like her because all she does is stay on her phone and let you do whatever you want. You’re missing important events and not taking shit seriously, so I fired her.” Thomas nods towards me. “And hired Libby. You’re getting out of control, and I had to put a stop to it before you lose the career you’ve worked your ass off for. Libby’s job is to help you get back on track and behave.”
“I don’t need a goddamn babysitter,” he snarls. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. So what? I enjoy having a drink, a good time, and might fuck a few women now and then. Last time I checked, those aren’t crimes.”
“You also punched a paparazzi in the face and are acting like you have no repercussions for your actions. Your new album released this week, and you’re about to depart on a world tour. You need to work on your image. Libby has been given a pay advance, and I expect you to respect her.”
I tense up when Knox glares over at me. “Libby, I’ll respect you by kindly asking you to leave,” he says. “You can keep the pay advance. Merry fucking Christmas. Again, I don’t need a goddamn babysitter.”
“And I’m not a babysitter,” I fire back, now fully ready for the challenge. He needs to know he can’t walk all over me. “Did you not listen to a word Thomas said? I’m assisting in managing your career and making sure you don’t do stupid shit.” I smirk. “Don’t worry. I won’t be fixing you peanut butter sandwiches or tucking you in for naptime.”
He points at me. “You do know I’m the one cutting your paychecks, sunshine? So I’d reel in the attitude if you want another one.”
Thomas grins at his response – like we’re two kids who just hugged out our problems on the playground. “Libby starts tomorrow. She’ll be at your place at noon.”
“Yeah, whatever, I have shit to do,” Knox grumbles. He doesn’t give either one of us another look on his way out the door.
I blow out a breath. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Is there someone else you can have me work for?” I appreciate him giving me a job, but I have a feeling Knox and I will be butting heads.
“You’ll be good for him.” Thomas opens up a drawer, gets up from his chair, and hands me a binder. “This is everything you need to know. You got this.”
I wish I had as much confidence in myself as he has in me.
This is going to be an interesting three months.
2
Libby
I walk into a mansion packed with people. It’s noon on a Tuesday, for fuck’s sake, although I’m sure the loud music, endless amounts of alcohol, and half-naked women aren’t out of the ordinary for him. I guess when you’re twenty-six and worth two hundred million dollars you can do whatever and party whenever you want.
I work my way through the sweaty bodies, my anger heightening with every step, and search the sea of people, scanning the faces of all the shirtless men with chiseled abs and tan skin.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter to myself when my eyes finally land on him.
He’s stretched out on a massive leather couch in the middle of the living room with not a care in the world. His feet are kicked up on the glass coffee table while he watches the madness around him like he’s the king of the party.
I inhale a deep breath and stomp towards him, knowing the exact moment Mr. Pop Star notices me coming his way.
My entire body stiffens at his deep, dominate stare, and a moment of silence passes when I make it to him, like we’re waiting for the other to speak first.
Why is this so damn awkward?
Because he wants it to be.
He’s enjoying making me squirm.
He leans back, watching me in amusement, fully telling me he’s in charge of this game … or whatever the hell it is.
A ball cap doesn’t cover his disheveled hair today, and he’s shirtless, only wearing swim trunks that hang loose on his hips, showing off the hard ridges in his chest. He has a six-pack, of course, because a bad boy can’t exist without having an amazing body, apparently.
“Did you forget you have an interview in an hour?” I yell over the music.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mouths back to me, the grin still on his face. The girl at his side gives me a nasty sneer, like she’s scared I’m about to ruin the chances of her possible life-changing screw.
I whip around on my heels and race to the corner of the room. Faces morph from ecstatic to pissed-off, including Knox’s, when I yank the cord from the stereo system, causing everything to go quiet.
“This party is over,” I scream. “Everyone out.” They all stare at me, but no one moves. “You have five minutes before I call the police and have each one of you escorted out.”
I don’t miss the dirty looks and rude remarks I’m given while they start working their way out of the house. It takes a good fifteen minutes until everyone is gone, except for the woman next to him, and it looks like she has no intention of going anywhere.
“You too, girlfriend,” I say, tossing my thumb over my shoulder towards the door.
She crosses her arms, her lips pouting. “I’m not leaving,” she argues, looking over at Knox, giving him a silent look that he better defend her and put my ass in place.
“He’ll call you later if he’s still interested,” I answer for him.
Knox pats her on the thigh and brings himself up. “I’ll call you later, babe,” he tells her, most likely lying.
She nods, giving him a much friendlier look than she did me, even though I pretty much told her the s
ame damn thing. She gets up and turns back to smile at him before disappearing through the front door.
It’s just the two of us now.
Yay.
Knox stalks over to the mini-bar in the corner of the room, and there’s no way he misses my hesitation when I sit down on the arm of the couch and open up the planner. He refills his glass and leans back against the bar with his eyes on me, the same stance he had when we first met. He’s waiting to see how I break this tension.
I don’t exactly blame him for not taking me seriously. I don’t have the look of a reputable assistant who gets shit done. I’m only twenty-three. My blonde hair gives people the perception that I’m ditzy, which I’m not, and I’m sure the pink streaks I’ve added don’t help my cause. I have yet to grow out of my baby face. My cheeks are still on the chubby side, and dimples stick out from each one of them like a Cabbage Patch Kid.
“You have an interview in forty-five minutes now,” I say, looking at my watch. “We wasted a good fifteen clearing out the house. The station is at least a thirty-minute drive, and that’s if traffic isn’t backed up. Why aren’t you dressed and ready to go instead of throwing a party?”
He gulps a long draw of his drink before answering me. “I’m not going.”
“You cancelled it?” He shakes his head. “Then you’re going. Set the booze down, go brush your teeth, and put some clothes on.”
“I hate interviews, especially lately. They all ask me the same shit. Who am I sticking my dick into? Is it serious? Did I really get arrested?” He waves his hand through the air. “The bullshit list goes on. No thank you.”
He’s not wrong about what’s going to happen, but that doesn’t give him an excuse to not show up. “You’re going. End of discussion.”
He holds up his glass. “I’ve been drinking, sunshine, and trust me, I’m not the most professional person under the influence of alcohol. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.”
“I don’t think you’re the most professional person, period,” I mutter underneath my breath. At least my dad knew not to miss important events that promoted his music and furthered his career.
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