One More Bad Boy

by Nora Flite

  "Hmm?" She was back on her phone.

  "Do you think I need a makeover?"

  Her red hair bounced with how fast she turned towards me. "What? Why would you ask that, do you want one?"

  "No—I don't think I do. I guess I don't know." I wasn't used to feeling so unsure. "Bach mentioned that I needed one to become... a product he could sell."

  Rolling her eyes, she laughed briefly. "That guy, he doesn't soften his words at all." Shouldering her purse, Violet stalked from the elevator with me close behind her. "This is a cruel industry. Everyone we need on our side has high expectations. Calling you a product isn't very nice, but..."

  "But he's not wrong," I mumbled bitterly.

  She paused outside of a glass-walled room. I could see inside; it looked like a secretary's lobby. "Amina, if you aren't strong, this industry will break you. It damages all of us a little bit. Not everyone can hold themselves together and make it out alive."

  Her words called back a memory I was desperate to forget. "I'm not going to fall apart," I said firmly. "If you guys think I need to dye my hair green and put on leather pants, I'll suck it up." Violet was watching me with the same attention to detail she reserved for her phone. "But I won't let anyone call me a product. Because I'm not."

  When she smiled, it lit her face up. "I think I like you."

  I blushed all the way to my scalp. "Thanks."

  "Try to keep that certainty about who you are. It's rare out here." With that, she shoved into the room. "Farrah," she snapped. "Is Bach ready for us?"

  The blonde woman behind the desk flapped her giant lashes. "He's been ready for a while. He buzzed me like a hundred times, asking where you were."

  Violet didn't look worried, but my stomach did a small flip. Imagining Bach on edge wasn't fun. The VP said nothing, she just pushed through the giant mahogany door and into a sun-bright room. I was sure she wanted me to follow, so I did. Inside there was a long table.

  Sitting at the end, like a king, was Bach Devine.

  The last time I'd seen him, he'd been wearing nothing but some apple-red briefs—and yes, I did recall the exact shade. I even remembered how deliciously they'd clung to his muscular legs and ass.

  Dressed in a crisp black jacket, rich slate tie, and a white button-down capped by cuff-links on his wrists, he was much more serious. But no less sexy. Especially when I thought about all the gorgeous ink coating his carved muscles beneath all that tailored cloth.

  Jesus, did I love a man with tattoos.

  Get a grip, you promised yourself, no more bad boys! Besides, this guy isn't just out of your league— he's on a whole other planet! Bach Devine was rich and successful and everything I was not. I planned to work hard so I could achieve some semblance of success, but he'd been born into this life.

  His confidence dripped off of him. It slid down his slow smile, his tongue catching the final drops so that his voice retained that velvety cockiness. "Glad you both could make it."

  Violet sat down across from him, slapping her purse onto the table. From the depths of it, she removed a heavy stack of papers. "Sit," she said, waving at me.

  Realizing I'd been hovering like a moron at the end of the room, I rushed to settle into a chair. Before I could take the one beside Violet, Bach pulled out the seat right next to him. Wordlessly, he patted the cushion.

  Bach was tipping me into a cyclone of confusing emotions. When I sat carefully in the chair, I swear, the leftover heat of his hand swam right up my thighs. "Is it hot in here?" I asked, laughing nervously.

  Both of them stared at me. "Uh, I can crank the AC," Violet said. She started to stand; I flapped a hand at her to say never mind. Squinting dubiously, she fanned out the paperwork in front of me and Bach. "Right. Amina, let me walk you through all of this."

  She began turning the papers, gliding her finger over the printed words. I nodded along, as if I was really following. It occurred to me that I should have brought a lawyer.

  And where would I even find one? How would I PAY them? It was a useless hindsight.

  Bach pierced me with his stare. "Are you following?" he asked.

  "Yeah. Completely." I meant to lean closer and read the paragraph Violet was tapping. Simultaneously, Bach bent in the same direction. Our heads clonked together. I grabbed my forehead, wincing in pain and humiliation. "Sorry!"

  "It's fine," he said, briefly rubbing where we'd bumped. Eyeing me, Bach smiled with one side of his mouth. "Probably not the last time we'll bang our heads together."

  Violet groaned at his joke. "Focus you two, please."

  Except I couldn't. I wanted to—this was fucking important—but Bach had jostled me around inside. My brain was rocketing around from our impact. More than that, I was hyper-aware of his every tiny breath.

  When Violet flipped to the last page of the mountain-stack, handing me a pen, I froze. Were we already at the end? Had I zoned out that bad?

  "Well?" she asked, wiggling the pen side to side. "Does it sound like a good deal?"

  Licking my lips, I reached for the contract. "Let me just... do another quick scan of it."

  Bach's hand rested on my wrist, freezing me. "Here. I'll break it down for you." His voice was silky, it invaded my ears until I heard nothing but him. "I'm going to make you famous, Amina. A star."

  A star. My heart jumped.

  "In exchange," he said, and I swear, he stroked my wrist. "You're agreeing to let us use your music—your image—in any way we see fit. You'll have long, hard days where we work closely together. You might even hate me by the end of it. But it'll all be worth it. Every bit of struggle will be worth it."

  Is he talking to me... or himself? Gently, I pulled my hand from his and picked up the pen. It was heavy in my fingers.

  This is what I want.

  What I always wanted.

  And now...

  I can finally have it.

  My past failures couldn't haunt me if I proved them untrue.

  One by one, I looked between them both. Violet was waiting with her lips in a knotted scrunch. Bach was hiding his hands in his lap, but his shoulders looked stiff. With deliberate movements, I clicked the pen, exposing the tip.

  I’d never signed my name so quickly before.

  - Chapter Eight -

  Bach

  My cock and my spirit both leaped when she signed the contract.

  Nothing had even happened yet, and I still felt like Amina had just handed me the front page of every magazine in town. And not because I'd been caught passed out naked in some girl's backyard pool.

  I fingered the edge of the contract. It was still warm from her touch. I sucked up every little hint of her existence knowing I was obsessing helplessly over her.

  "Bach," Violet called after me. She shut the doors behind her, leaving Amina alone inside the conference room. "We need to talk before you run off to your next meeting."

  Did the paperwork smell like Amina? I inhaled, my nostrils flaring—it definitely did. Slapping the contract into Farrah's hands as I passed her desk, I said, "File that. Then inform every media outlet you can that Beats and Blast has just signed the hottest new singer of the year, and she'll be debuting exclusively tonight at the All That Glitters Gala."

  "What?" Violet gasped.

  My secretary took the contract, blinking over and over. "Um. Okay."

  I kept going, a spring in my step. Violet hesitated, like she wanted to tell Farrah not to do what I'd said, but she chased after me instead. "Bach! This is insanity! She isn't anywhere near ready for this!"

  "I know. Set up an appointment with Silverwell's design firm. Get Amina in there today, she'll need to look good for her debut.”

  "I am seriously going to shove my phone up your ass." Violet was cracking; she didn't usually get so crude, but I was pushing her. I didn't even feel bad about it, though, I was too damn excited.

  She signed.

  She's mine.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” I asked, checking my watc
h. “I’ve got to call Mark Anderson to confirm Amina’s addition to the roster tonight.”

  Violet walked beside me, two strides for each of mine. “You’re not going to reconsider?”

  “No.”

  “This is just as career-suicide as the SoCal Artist award, Bach!”

  “It’s one song. She’ll be fine.”

  “How can you know that?”

  Pulling up next to the elevator, I gave her a coy smile. “I just do. You have ten seconds to tell me whatever you were going to, hurry up.”

  Her perfectly tidy eyebrows lowered over her vibrant green eyes. “She told me what you said to her, about how she’s a product.”

  I kept my expression neutral. Inside, a wave of guilt assaulted me. “And?”

  “You can’t be that harsh with her. She’s strong, but...”

  “I’m her boss,” I said coldly, tapping the button for the seventh floor. “It’s my job to be realistic with her.”

  The doors started to shut; Violet jammed her foot in, stopping them. “I’m not asking you to be her friend. Just for you to soften up some. Otherwise, there’s no way she’ll be able to work with you long-term.”

  “You think so little of her?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Hiding my hands in my pockets, I slouched. “You said it yourself. She’s strong. I don’t think my honesty is going to scare her off. Amina knows what she wants.” I leveled a stare on her curious face. “I get the feeling she always has.”

  My VP worked her jaw, reconsidering what she wanted to say. Finally, she crossed her arms and groaned. “I’ll get her to Silverwell’s so she’s ready in time.”

  “I’d expect nothing less from my favorite Vice President.”

  Her red lips crinkled tight. “I hate you sometimes.”

  "Please," I laughed, tapping the elevator button again. "We both know you love me. Besides," I said as the doors began to shut, "This was all your idea in the first place. I'm just doing what you always wanted me to do—following through."

  I saw her stunned expression, then I was alone.

  - Chapter Nine -

  Amina

  I was barely recovering from the huge moment of signing with Beats and Blast when Violet was dragging me somewhere else.

  "I'm doing what?" I asked, alternating between staring at her and staring at the beautiful stretch of Beverly Hills outside the car window.

  "Performing at a gala." She shot me a look. Was she as nervous as I was? "Bach thinks it's what will propel you forward. Get everyone chatting about you."

  "Sure. They'll be talking about how I wasn't ready to do this."

  She snorted dryly. "Stay positive. Most of the trick is acting like you're confident."

  Touching my forehead, I massaged the tender spot where Bach had slammed into me. It wasn't visible on the outside, but the bruise went deep into my psyche. "Confident. Right." Did he really think I could do this? Maybe he was just crazy.

  But what other choice was there than to try?

  The building we pulled up to was gorgeous; the outside all black and silver. Wide windows showed off dresses and jeans and a number of other sharp outfits. At least I'll look good when I go down in flames.

  Violet parked at a meter, motioning me to follow her. She was always a little edgy, but right then, she was all spines. I realized Bach was putting her patience to the test as much as mine.

  The bell over the door jingled. The LA heat vanished, a comfortable coolness welcoming us into the store. Looking side to side, I studied the place with mounting excitement. It wasn't enough to bury the prickly part of me that was terrified of performing tonight, but... it would do.

  I'm going to get to wear something really great, I thought, smiling. I'd watched those Dress for Success reality shows, and they always wowed me with their results. Could someone take my "whatever clean clothes are on hand" look and transform it into something worth talking about?

  You need a makeover.

  Bach's calculating comment drilled into my mind. Remembering how he'd torn me down without hesitance took the fun out of this trip.

  "Can I help you?" someone asked. The woman was wearing a gorgeous dress. It flowed on the hem, the top tight and figure forming in a way that drew attention. The color popped; bright cherries and apricot yellows. It was fantastic, even if it wasn't something I'd ever wear.

  Whoever this designer is, she's got guts. I liked that. I was stoked to meet someone with so much pow!

  “Hi there,” she said, extending a manicured hand my way. “I'm Alexis, the designer here. I’m sorry to say I don’t have much time to show anyone around, I’ve got an appointment arriving soon."

  "Ah ha, about that.” I shook her hand and grinned sheepishly. “I’m Amina.”

  "Oh!" She looked at Violet, then disengaged from me so she could grip the other woman’s palm. "We spoke on the phone?"

  "Correct," Violet chuckled. "Sorry for the short notice. Mr. Devine is a little... spontaneous."

  Alexis smiled, biting back a laugh. "I know the type. Come on, let's get started. It sounds like we’re under the gun here.” Thumbing the racks, she walked while we followed. "Is there a theme for the gala?"

  "All that Glitters," Violet said. “It's a fundraiser for some local museums.”

  “Well, glitter might be a little too on the nose...” she trailed off as she pushed through a section of hangers. I couldn't tell what was inside of them because the plastic was opaque. But Alexis seemed to know; she moved through them quickly, shaking her head as she went down the line. “Violet said you’re singing at this event, right, Amina? Are you a musician?”

  “I guess,” I said, uncomfortable with the question.

  Violet nudged me. “Confidence.”

  It was one thing to tell someone to be confident, and another thing entirely to actually feel it.

  “What kind of music do you play?” Alexis asked.

  “I do mostly acoustic work. Just stuff that I write as it comes to me.”

  “She's very indie,” Violet added.

  Alexis nodded thoughtfully. Her fingers tightened on a hanger as she brought it towards me. “Try this on and see how it suits you. The fit might be off, but I can fix that quick.”

  I’d been excited when I first entered the building. That had waned the longer I stood among the racks of gorgeous dresses. I felt out of place. These outfits weren’t for me, they were for rich people, or celebrities. People who could describe their talents with ease because they’d done it a million times for their adoring fans.

  I was positive that the outfit under the plastic that Alexis handed me wasn't going to look right. How could it? No, none of this was my style. I was a torn jeans and old shirt kind of girl. If it was clean that was good enough for me.

  For a moment, I closed my eyes and remembered something. A flash of hot lights in a sound booth. Cameras blinding as I stood around, posing as I was told.

  “Amina?”

  I shook myself and gave Violet a reassuring smile. “Where’s the dressing room?” Alexis pointed, and I hurried off in that direction. Safe in the tiny room, I breathed out, then in, until my heart slowed. Get it together, I told myself. Even if this environment didn't suit me, I had to make it work. Anyway, it was just a dumb dress. I would put it on and say it looked fine even if I felt like a fraud and it.

  Unzipping the plastic, I gawked at the sparkling purple and gold material. It wasn't a gown, it was cocktail dress designed to swish around my knees. Mature, but also fun. The neck was high, covering me all the way to the top. And it was soft under my fingers. Not at all the brittle texture I expected from sequins.

  Alexis had made this? She really was an artist.

  Probably more of one than I am.

  Sucking in a breath, I slipped out of my clothing and pulled the dress over my head. Grunting, I stretched back until I could grip the zipper. It rippled up my spine, tickling the nape of my neck. Turning in place, I studied how the dress fit me in the floor-len
gth mirror.

  It was gorgeous. And it hugged me like a dream. Alexis thought it wouldn't fit me? She was dead wrong. She had an eye, that was for sure. I would never have picked something out like this for me, but seeing how it moved, how it shimmered under the lights, I was positive I would make quite the scene on a stage. It was perfect.

  Bach wouldn't be able to take his eyes off of me.

  Where did that come from? I wondered. Scolding myself, I adjusted the pleats on the bottom of the dress. I did look amazing, better than I ever had before. Stepping out of the dressing room I heard Violet and Alexis gasp. Violet had pushed her fingers to her lips, staring at me wide-eyed. Alexis was jumping in place gleefully.

  “It's perfect on you,” Alexis said. “I just need to pin it in a couple spots and it will be flawless.”

  “It’s already flawless,” I said with a nervous laugh.

  Alexis shook her head. She was seeing mistakes that I never would. Violet spoke with her finger still pressed to her mouth. “If you look like that and sing half as well, everyone at the gala is going to lose their minds.”

  I swelled with pride. But something she’d just said stuck with me. “Shit. I haven't practiced at all for this,” I whispered. “Violet, what song am I even going to sing?”

  She clapped her hands, back to being all business. “Doesn't matter. Pick a song that you can nail, something you know by heart, and that will be enough. You're only going to get one anyway, with the lineup already arranged.”

  Alexis came around, forcing my arms up as she began slipping pins into place along the dress’s seams. “Sounds like he really wants to show you off,” she said.

  I bit my bottom lip. “Is this really as last minute as it sounds?” I asked.

  “It’s 'call in all the favors' level of last minute, yes,” Violet answered.

  Alexis helped me out of the dress, wrapping me in a sheet as she did so. She guided me to a sofa in the rear of the store. “Sit while I go finish this up. There’s snacks under that tray, and coffee in that carafe.”

  I smiled appreciatively, but I had no appetite. Settling on the stiff blue cushions, I stared at Violet who perched on the opposite armrest. “Did you ask her how much it would cost to rent that dress?”