Revenge: The Complete Series (Erotic Rock Star Suspense Romance)

by Mimi Strong

I study her face for a moment.

  “Amanda, why do you have a little bit of green in one eye?”

  “Genetics. Same reason I’m left-handed.”

  “Oh.”

  She flutters her eyelashes. “And also because I’m a gypsy.”

  “Really?”

  “No, but that would be cool.” She smiles. “What were you and Dylan doing last night?”

  “We went to a club and he sang with this other guy, Tex. But before that, he took me to his new house that he just bought. The whole thing was super weird.”

  “Did he ask you to move in with him?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was implied? He kept talking about having parties, with you and Riley there.”

  “Even better. We’ll all move in with Dylan and have rock star lives. I’ll quit my job and be the official bartender for all his parties.”

  I smile at the thought. It’s crazy, but not that crazy. Famous people do have entourages. I’m sure they hire people to do plenty of things for them.

  “We’ll see,” I tell her. “Don’t put in your notice just yet. I haven’t exactly quit my job, you know? Even though Dylan makes about a million times more money than me.”

  “Awkward.”

  I groan and roll onto my back. “This situation is just so fucked up. Some of the stuff he does is so crazy. He drives like he’s leaving a bank heist. He showed up last night without warning and climbed in my window. And he tells me what underwear to wear.”

  “That’s kinda fun.”

  “Sure, but I don’t think I’d put up with some of this stuff if he was just a regular guy. I’m acting like some dumb groupie. I came to LA to have a career, not for this.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “What can I do? Just hang on tight and see how interesting things get. The career stuff isn’t exactly happening.”

  “Jess, I’m scared for you.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Riley loves you, and I do, too.”

  I scrunch up my face. “Amanda, don’t make me cry. I love you too, girl. Hey, how are things with Caleb?”

  “Good. We’re totally exclusive now. It’s nice.”

  “Wow.”

  She gives me a dirty look. “What’s that all about?”

  “I’m sorry, Amanda, but when I first met you, I thought you were skanky. I was grossed out by some of the things you did. All the guys.”

  She raises one eyebrow.

  “But I’m glad you have more experience,” I quickly add.

  “Thanks,” she says grumpily.

  “No, I really appreciate your insight.”

  She sits up and wriggles her way off my bed.

  “I’m so glad I could be your skanky advisor.”

  Great. Now I’ve upset her.

  “Don’t go,” I beg.

  “Wash your sheets. Your bed smells like Dylan.”

  She walks out of my room, in a huff.

  Chapter 9

  I stand in front of the glass doors to Morris Music.

  Some people shuffle by me, muttering about it being Monday.

  I haven’t seen Dylan since he left my house Saturday morning. His text messages have been brief, and worry me.

  Could my life get worse?

  My roommate, Amanda, is mad at me because I accidentally called her a skank. And now I’m going to walk into this building and either die from boredom, or get fired.

  I also feel awful that I’ve been avoiding Nan. She’s having a tough time adjusting to life in town, away from the farm. She says her independence is gone. She makes it sound like she’s in prison. I feel bad for her, but there’s so little I can do from LA.

  She doesn’t know yet that I’m living with Riley. I’ve been avoiding her because I hate lying to her. But she only knows the old Riley, who stole from her to get drugs.

  I walk into the building and pass through security. The guards look grim, but resigned to their fate.

  “What’s the word from upstairs?” I ask one of them.

  “You tell me,” he says. “I’ve got bills. If it’s between me and you, I hope they let go of you.”

  “Wow. Thanks a lot.” I stomp toward the elevator.

  Nick is right behind me, and gets into the elevator with me.

  “Basement, please,” he says.

  I turn and look at his calm face. The elevator starts moving.

  “You’re making a joke?” I ask. “You seem happy. Is shit going down today? Are your mother and David Ambler making the big move to take over the Morris empire?”

  His eyes widen, and his pale face goes even whiter. His mouth moves, but nothing comes out. He looks like a fish in an aquarium.

  The doors open on the archives floor, and we walk out.

  “Well?” I ask.

  As soon as the elevator doors close, he wheels around.

  “NEVER talk in the ELEVATOR!” he yells.

  “Holy fuck, Nick. Calm down. I didn’t say anything.”

  His face is twitching. We stand face to face, and he looks like he wants to punch me.

  “Yes, you did,” he says through gritted teeth. “You said everything. Don’t you know about Carter Morris and the elevators? They should have told you that on your first day.”

  “Excuse me for living, Nick, but you’re my supervisor. And you didn’t tell me shit on my first day.”

  He looks around the dark floor, his light blue eyes wild. He walks to the light switches and flicks them on. The fluorescent tubes buzz and crackle on.

  I go to my desk and sit down while he does a full circuit of the floor, making sure we’re alone. He returns and sits across from me, arms crossed.

  “You blew it,” he says.

  “This is on you,” I reply. “And don’t worry so much. Mr. Morris doesn’t have time to sit around all day watching the elevator camera and reading lips. You’re just paranoid, because that’s the kind of creepy thing you’d do, if you were him.”

  “There’s audio,” he says flatly. “He doesn’t need to read lips.”

  “Paranoia, Nick. Look it up on Wikipedia. There’s a picture of you.”

  Nick narrows his eyes at me. “His favorite game is to override the controls and bring people up to his office, then ask about what they were saying in the elevator. It’s not like he tries to keep it a secret. Everyone knows.”

  I groan, because I know it’s true. I was trying to leave the building once, and Mr. Morris had the elevator take me up to his office.

  “I hate this company,” I grumble.

  “I’m sure the feeling is mutual.”

  “What’s happening today? You were definitely happy in the elevator.”

  He picks up the phone on his desk and makes a call. He turns his back to me, but he doesn’t lower his voice.

  “Jessica Rivera just blew everything out her stupid mouth in the elevator.” He pauses, listening for a moment. “Yes. Five minutes ago… I know… Yes… Do it.”

  He turns around and hangs up the phone.

  I’m afraid to ask, but I do. “Now what do I do?”

  “You take the stairs.”

  “That’s it?”

  “This is so bad,” he says.

  “What can I do to fix it?”

  The phone on the desk rings, and Nick lets out a sharp cry.

  It keeps ringing.

  Nick’s nostrils flare, and he pushes the phone over to my side.

  I pick up. “Jessica Rivera, Archives. How may I help you?”

  There’s the sound of someone inhaling, then comes the charming, yet terrifying voice of Mr. Carter Morris: “Miss Rivera.”

  I look up at Nick for guidance. He’s frozen.

  “May I help you?” I ask sweetly.

  “You’re a young, smart girl,” he says lightly. “I need your eyes on some promotional artwork. I’d like a second opinion. I think the marketing department is trying to pull one over on me. Imagine that. My own people, and they think they’re smarter than me.”
/>   I stammer, “A-a-artwork? Sure, I can take a look at that.”

  He tells me to come straight up, and ends the call.

  I place the phone back carefully.

  “Nick, what do I do? Mr. Morris asked me to look at some marketing stuff.”

  He glances over to the fire escape door, then back to me. “You can’t use the stairwell. He’ll know for sure you’re hiding something.”

  I can’t think of anything else to do, so I just sit there and swear for a full minute.

  Once I’m calmed down, Nick says, “David Ambler is opening a restaurant. It’s a competitor to the Hard Rock Cafe. My mother is investing.”

  “Is that true? Or is that a cover story?”

  Nick blinks. “It’s both. That’s how they’re raising the money from investors. They might even open the restaurant, too. I don’t know. Misinformation, Jess. Mix the truth and the lie.”

  I get up from my chair and stride toward the elevator.

  “I can do this,” I tell Nick. There’s more confidence in my voice than seems possible.

  I step into the elevator and reach for the button for the tenth floor. It’s already lit.

  Great.

  Chapter 10

  The elevator ride up is smooth, with no stops.

  My body feels shaky. I did eat breakfast, but I feel like my blood sugar’s low.

  And I’m sweaty.

  I started to sweat the second the phone rang downstairs. I’m wearing a blazer over my shirt, so I button it up. I’m practically soaked underneath the blue jacket.

  As the doors open on the sunny tenth floor, a calm washes over me.

  I take a breath.

  Whatever happens next is not going to kill me.

  If I manage not to blow Maggie Clark’s secret plan, I’ll get a promotion under the new regime. If I do blow it, then maybe that’s okay, too. Dylan will get all the money he’s been promised, so he can pay for the expensive mansion he just bought.

  I step out, and my calm immediately disappears.

  Maggie Clark is walking out of her Vice President’s office, toward me. Now that I know Nick is her son, I can see the family resemblance in her cold eyes and colder expression.

  Her platinum hair is perfectly styled. She’s wearing a tailored suit on her compact frame, over a leopard-print blouse. The woman reminds me of a jungle cat, ready to pounce.

  She bares her teeth in a smile.

  I bare my teeth back.

  She reaches out to shake my hand.

  “Jessica, I hear you’re doing a great job in the archives.” Her eyes don’t match the smile on her lips. They seem to flash a warning at me. “You hang in there, Jessica, and you won’t be an intern forever.”

  I really don’t like the sound of my name on her lips. I especially don’t like her saying my name twice.

  “Thank you for the opportunity, Ms. Clark.” I glance over in the direction of the other office. “I’m just up here to look over some marketing materials, I think.”

  Her thin, perfectly drawn-in eyebrows raise. “You think?” She nods for me to get walking.

  Maggie follows me into the office of the president and owner, Mr. Carter Morris.

  The white-haired man has posters and CD box cover art spread across his massive wooden desk. He sits in a tall-backed burgundy leather chair. His snowy white eyebrows bunch together as he looks up at me.

  “Wal-Mart,” he says, shaking his head.

  Maggie and I take seats across the desk from him.

  Maggie says, “I hope you don’t mind me joining in, but I need you for a few minutes to go over scheduling.” She looks over the artwork on the desk. “These are certainly… edgy.”

  Mr. Carter turns his glimmering emerald eyes on me. The artwork is just an excuse, and I know it. He sent that message to my sister as either a promise, or a threat. He was cryptic, but he did say that loyalty to the company would be rewarded.

  “Wal-Mart,” he says again, a mischievous look on his face.

  He’s so charming, but I can’t fall into his trap and get comfortable.

  “Are they causing you problems?” I ask.

  “Miss Rivera, you’re aware of the issues of mass market distribution, aren’t you?” He points to a photo on his desk. It’s of a nude woman with a snake across her breasts. It reminds me of something I’ve seen on a Britney Spears album.

  He explains, “People like this sort of thing, and it sells, but we cannot excite the good mothers and fathers shopping with their children, now, can we?”

  “I’ve heard about this. The big stores might get their own version, and sometimes even the songs are changed.”

  Mr. Carter makes two fists and presses them together. “Art, meet commerce.” He laughs loudly, his deep voice filling the room.

  Maggie laughs, her high voice dancing over top of his.

  I swallow hard, trying not to crack.

  They both laugh louder and louder, like they’re in a contest.

  Both of them have such cold eyes, though. The tension in this room feels like it could choke us all.

  He stops laughing and holds up two mockups.

  “Those are the options?” I ask.

  He looks deeply into my eyes. I feel like I’m falling backward, under the power in his green eyes. And… weirdly enough, I want him to catch me. I want to trust him.

  His message promised that my loyalty would be rewarded. I want to believe that’s true.

  He looks down at the necklace I’m wearing. I’ve got the key pendant on again, for good luck. He doesn’t react, but looks back up to my eyes.

  “Choose,” he says.

  Maggie answers first. “The apple. They’ll think of the snake, even without seeing the snake.”

  Mr. Morris holds me with his eyes, waiting for my answer.

  For an instant, I feel like he’s holding open a door for me. All I have to do is step through. He’s the one with the power, and he’ll hold onto it. The company he founded will remain in his control. If I want a career in the music industry, and to keep Dylan’s deal, I should choose him.

  “Well? Should I trust Ms. Clark?” he asks.

  I squint at the two mockups in his hands. There’s no way Wal-Mart will stock the one with the snake. I can see the tops of the singer’s nipples.

  “Yes,” I say. My voice comes out cracked. I cough to clear my throat. “Of course. She’s right about the apple.”

  “Very good.” He quickly rakes everything across his desk and back into the folder. “You may go now.”

  I stand, and he stands, reaching across the massive desk to shake my hand. I wasn’t expecting to shake his hand, or I would have rubbed the clammy sweat off on my clothes.

  My palm is slippery against his.

  His handshake is perfect. Confident and warm. His palm isn’t sweating.

  This is why people shake hands at business meetings. To intimidate each other. To find out if the other person is soaking wet with perspiration under her blazer.

  My hand slides out of his, and his eyes flicker with understanding.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  I turn and walk out of the office, to the elevator.

  The door to his office stays open. I can hear the two of them discussing upcoming meetings.

  Maggie laughs and sounds cheerful. I’m sure she’s seething under the surface.

  As I take the elevator back down, I try to keep my face neutral and my body language calm. I glance around for the hidden cameras, but they’re well hidden.

  Did he hear what I said to Nick in the elevator? If he didn’t, it’s an awfully big coincidence that he called me within minutes.

  Did I just make everything worse?

  He asked me if he should trust Maggie Clark, and I said yes.

  But then he shook my hand, and my sweaty palm said no.

  Now I don’t know what’s going to happen.

  But I’m pretty sure it’s going to be terrible.

  Chapter 11

&n
bsp; The elevator stops on every floor on the way to the basement.

  People step on and off, ignoring the sweaty, brown-haired girl shrinking into the corner.

  “So many layoffs,” one woman says to her friend.

  “I’m updating my resume,” says the other.

  They leave, and two more come on.

  “Can I use you as a reference?” one asks the other.

  “Shush. The walls have eyes and ears.”

  They go silent.

  I’m alone when I get to the basement floor.

  Nick is hunched over his desk.

  “Everything’s fine,” I say evenly. “Mr. Morris wanted to ask me about some packaging for Wal-Mart. You’re fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I hate lying to Nick, but he’s already lied to me so many times.

  Thinking about his lies gets me riled up.

  In a way, Nick and his mother deserve to have this whole thing blow up in their faces. They didn’t build this company. Mr. Morris did. So what if Maggie Clark got strung along by him, romantically or business-wise, or whatever? She’s a grown-up. I’m sure the Vice President position pays well.

  “Everything’s going to work out,” I tell Nick. “Have you eaten? I’ll go up to the cafeteria and bring something back.”

  “Okay,” he says.

  “Am I allowed to use the elevator? I promise I won’t talk to anyone.”

  “I don’t know. Fine.”

  I grab my purse from the desk and go back upstairs to buy us some food.

  People in the cafeteria stare at me. If people have been treating Nick this way for years, I can almost understand his secrecy.

  I grab some food and get out of there as fast as I can.

  Nick is hunched over his desk when I return. He seems like he’s given up.

  We eat some pastries and drink our coffee in silence.

  I pull out my phone and find that I got some messages while I was above ground.

  The first is from Dylan:

  Midnight Swimmer Girl,

  The deal went through on the house. Words cannot express how excited I am about going for more midnight swims with you. I will have to show you, in person. Or write a song about it. My new producer says my love songs are shit. I think I just haven’t written the right one. He should meet you, so he understands. He’ll fall in love with you, like I have. We need to do more research. I’ll pick you up from work at 5:30.