I was caught in the middle of a power struggle between two giant music producers. Just a pawn on their chessboard but feeling more like the spark about to start a fire.
On one hand, I was so relieved Byron wasn’t going to drop me from his label. On the other, this turn of events was going to make Will even angrier. He would hold even tighter to our sham of a “marriage,” lording it over my head as punishment. As payment for a debt.
A debt he would never let me repay, because with Will, it didn’t matter how many payments I made. The balance never seemed to go down.
And here I was. Damned if I did. Damned if I didn’t.
I sat on my white sofa, not even seeing the million-dollar view out the enormous windows, as I considered my options. Did I really have any?
It felt like I didn’t.
Even if I wanted to quit music, disappear into the unknown, I couldn’t.
He would never let me. And I’d given my word.
How long did a verbal agreement last? A promise?
When did it turn into emotional blackmail? Was emotional blackmail even a thing?
I’d been so stupid in the past. Stupid and naive. I’d grown up since then. Unfortunately, the mistakes of my past still kept me from my future.
I’d still do the same thing today. I guess that was something. Right?
The cushion beside me vibrated, and I glanced down at the screen and groaned.
“Seth,” I said, answering the call. “Didn’t you see enough of me this morning?”
“It’s always a pleasure, Aerie.” His reply was smooth. “I’m calling because I have the contract from Time Track.”
“Already?” I practically squeaked. My goodness, we’d just met this morning.
“I’ve been going over it since it came through. Everything is in order. Byron was very generous.”
“How generous?”
“Two million up front. Better-than-average royalties and a clause that states the majority of the album will be produced in the studio of your choice, which we are all assuming is your place.”
I sat back, almost stunned. “Seriously?”
“You shouldn’t be surprised. Your first album went platinum. You were nominated for country artist of the year.”
“I lost.” I reminded him.
“You won’t next year.”
“Does it say anything in there about Nate?” I asked, mulling over all this information.
“There is a stipulation that you work with him for the songwriting. Byron is determined to use Rolland’s idea against him.”
I sighed. “It’s so juvenile.”
“It’s business. That’s why Byron’s on top.”
I didn’t say anything because, deep down, I knew Seth was right. The music industry was nothing if not cutthroat.
“Look, Aerie. I know you don’t want to work with him. I know Will is putting the screws to you, and honestly, this is just going to piss him off more. But it’s a good deal—hell, a great one. You’re not going to get better.”
“I know.” I sighed. “Do you think if I signed it, Byron would let me have some time at my place to myself? You know, before I start work on the new album.”
“I can ask.”
I hesitated a moment longer, then relented. “Fine. Send the contract over to my lawyer so he can go over it. If he says everything is in order, and once I read it, I’ll sign.”
“Awesome!” Seth exclaimed, a smile in his voice.
I couldn’t blame the guy for being happy. He was getting a good payday off this.
“I’ll forward you a copy of it now. Go ahead and read through it tonight. Then when you talk to your lawyer, he can answer any questions you have.”
“Sounds good.”
“Hey, Aerie?” Seth said.
“Yeah?”
“Try to sound a little excited, huh? You just scored a deal that’s going to make you millions of dollars.”
Money isn’t everything.
But having it means you can take care of yourself.
I smiled. “I am happy. Thank you for working on this and for being so patient with all the tabloid rumors lately. I know your phone has probably been ringing nonstop.”
“I changed the number,” he quipped.
I laughed.
He cleared his throat. “Speaking of, I can’t keep saying no comment forever. The speculation about you and Will is huge. One minute, it’s being reported you’re joining Solberg, and the next, the press has pics of you out and about without your wedding ring.”
“As soon as my signature is dry on the contract with Time Track, I’ll release a statement.”
“Any idea on what the statement might entail?”
“Seth,” I drawled. “Even you are curious about my personal life?”
“I gotta tell you, Ms. Boone. The past few meetings I’ve had with you have gotten me quite intrigued.”
“I should have kept you in the loop.” I admonished myself, lifting a strand of hair and twisting it around my finger.
“Probably. But I understand.”
“The truth is I don’t remember marrying Will. I woke up with a ring on my finger one morning, and ever since then, I’ve been horrified as hell. I don’t want to be married to him. He asked me months before, and I turned him down flat. My lawyers are working on an annulment. Have been since that day. But he’s stalling them. Pushing back.”
“Will definitely isn’t going to want to let go of anything that could make him more money,” Seth mused.
“I’m not a paycheck,” I snapped. “I’m a person.”
He cleared his throat. “Of course. I won’t say a word to the press until you’re ready to release a statement. Until then, read the contract.”
Some of my anger drained away, but not enough to make me apologize. “Thank you, Seth.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Once we hung up, I shut off all the lights in the main room and locked myself in the bathroom for a long, hot bath.
The difference between my reaction to this contract and the euphoria I felt when I signed my first one was remarkably different.
It wasn’t the only thing different, though. Everything else was, too.
Loud, obnoxious pounding woke me. I shot up from my pillows as if I were being attacked. Blinking back the sleep, my heart raced as I clicked on the bedside lamp and scurried out of bed.
The banging was definitely not a dream, and neither was the yelling of my name.
My stomach cramped as I ran in a circle at the foot of my bed, worrying about what to do.
“Aerie!” he yelled.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Maybe if I ignored him, he would go away.
“I’ll break this fucking door down!” he wailed.
I felt the blood drain from my face. Or maybe he will indeed bust down the door and the neighbors will call the cops. What a nice headline that would make. Not.
Peeling away from the circle I was making, I ran through the condo and to the front door. My bare feet slapped on the cold tile, and the silk of my pajama romper made me feel exposed and vulnerable.
The second the sound of throwing the locks echoed, Will stopped acting like an ass. I yanked open the door, only enough for me to look out at him and glare.
“It’s the middle of the night!” I hissed.
He didn’t seem to get the hint that I didn’t want him to come in. His hand slapped against the white wood and shoved so hard I stumbled backward.
He strode in, his suit rumpled, jacket long ago removed. His tie was also missing, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. Will’s hair was disheveled, his eyes dark and stormy. I watched with bated breath as he stalked into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.
“Did you think I wouldn’t hear?” he rasped. Sometimes his voice sounded that way. Like he had a sore throat. Really, he didn’t. He was just angry enough it vibrated his vocal chords.
“Hear what?” I asked, wrapping my
arms over my chest. I really wished I wasn’t standing here in silk pajamas.
He rushed close, shoving his finger in my face. “Don’t you play stupid with me, you little bitch.”
My mouth ran dry. Pushing his finger out of my face, I answered, “I told you I would not sign with Solberg.”
“I thought we made it clear you didn’t have a choice.”
“I have a choice. You’re never going to take choice from me ever again.”
It happened fast.
One minute, I was standing there with my heart nearly thumping out of my chest, and the next…
I was on the ground.
He’d slapped me across the face. With an open palm. So hard it knocked me down.
My bare legs lay against the tile floor. The cold was sort of shocking, yet I was grateful for it. It kept me alert. My head drooped toward the floor and strands of hair fell like a dark curtain over my face, providing me with something to hide behind.
My hand shook as I reached up and felt my cheek. It was warm to the touch, the skin burning and tingling. I prayed to God there wasn’t a mark.
Lowering my hand, lifting my head, I stared up at Will.
“Babe…” He began, a hint of regret in his voice.
I lost my shit.
“Don’t call me that!” I screamed and shoved up off the floor. The thin strap of my outfit slid down over my shoulder, but I ignored it. “Don’t you ever call me that again.”
His eyes narrowed.
The sting in my cheek kept me from backing down.
“You will not sign that contract. You’re my wife. And as such, you will do what I tell you to do.”
“I already signed it.” I lied. “The deal is done.”
His hands balled into fists at his sides. I braced myself, going on high alert. That was the first time he’d ever hit me, and so help me God, it would be the last.
I couldn’t believe I was married to this. To him.
Why would I have done that? Sure, we’d been together, but I would never have married him.
He knew that. I’d told him as much.
He’d been pissed that night, too.
“And the songwriter? He signed, too?” Will’s hands flexed.
I swallowed. “Yes.”
He lunged forward, and I retreated. I would have fallen, but he caught my arm and yanked me up. Will dragged me through the condo, into the living room. My eyes slid to the contract that was spread out on my dining room table, unsigned.
If he saw that…
“You have betrayed and humiliated me in every possible way,” he said, shoving me away. I came up against the sofa and stood there, using it as a prop.
“First, you file for an annulment, wanting to erase the fact that we’re married, that you’ve spent two years with me.”
“One year.” I corrected.
His jaw jumped. “Two.”
I nodded.
“Then you tell your label about the deal we got for you, our plans for your summer song, and let them poach it!” He fumed. “Let them poach our songwriter!”
“I didn’t tell them.” I defended myself. I should have just stood there and taken credit for it all. I wanted to. But I was afraid. “They already knew.”
“Roth?” He seethed. “He went behind our backs and used our offer as leverage to get a better deal for himself.”
“No, I don’t—” I refuted. The thought that Will was directing any portion of his anger at Nate… My stomach cramped, and I nearly doubled over.
“Shut it!” he demanded, then paced over to the windows that looked out over L.A. It was beautiful. But right now? Not so much. Will stopped to look outside, clasped his hands behind his back, and went motionless. “After everything I’ve done for you…”
The cramps in my stomach were suddenly joined by a terrible, terrible ache in my heart.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Will. But enough is enough.”
He turned, eyes stormy. “You owe me.”
“I’ve paid ten times over,” I said, quiet, automatically fingering my cheek.
“No.” His voice was gentle. The distance between us closed until he was standing right in front of me, staring down.
I swear he was bipolar. Or had multiple personalities. Like Jekyll and Hyde. One minute he was angry and fuming; the next he was gentle and sweet.
He cupped my face. I turned away. He wouldn’t let me go, though. I found myself in his arms, against his chest. He smelled like perfume, and it disgusted me.
Even married, he couldn’t be faithful.
(Not that we were actually married. Kinda. You know what I mean.)
“This is what it’s all been leading up to, babe,” he said, stroking the back of my head. “Everything I’ve done for you. For us. To bring us here.” He pulled me away from him, holding me out like a rag doll. “And you ruined it.”
“Then just let me go. Clearly, I’m not what or who you want me to be. Focus your energy on some other up-and-coming star.”
He made a tsking sound. “It doesn’t work like that, Aerie. I’m invested in you. In us. We can still salvage this. We can still be the king and queen of music.”
“I don’t want to be a queen.”
He laughed and let me go. Taking the opportunity, I moved away from him. “Well, your princess title is all but gone. It wouldn’t take much to rip it away completely. And then who would you be, Aerie? No more crown, no more royalty.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Was there really any point in arguing with a man who didn’t even listen?
He pushed a hand through his hair and chuckled. “Without me, babe, you’ll be back where you started. You’ll be nothing but a toad.”
His words hurt just as much as his hand had. I marched past him, practically ran to the front door, and yanked it open wide.
“Get out. Get the hell out now, or I swear to God I will call the cops.”
He walked at a painfully unhurried pace, then leaned down to whisper in my ear. “And who do you think the cops will believe? Will Solberg, prince of Solberg records, or Aerie Boone, toad.”
Stubborn rage filled me. I refused to concede to his torture. I turned my head and met his stare. “I think they’ll believe the handprint on my face.”
Judging by the way his pallor went ghostly, I knew there was indeed a handprint.
He stalked out into the hallway. I slammed the door in his face, but it didn’t latch. He hit it before it could, and the door bounced back open, forcing me to look at him some more.
“Sign the annulment papers, Will,” I intoned. “If you don’t, being a toad will look like a luxury when I’m done with you.”
“You just made a huge mistake,” he half growled.
This time, the door latched when I slammed it. I made sure of it by throwing my body against it and then latching every lock and arming the alarm.
I gave myself less than a minute to lean against the door and breathe with a hand pressed against my chest. Without any hesitation, I rushed back into my living room, past the couch, and toward the dining table.
I fished around the papers spread about and then picked up a pen. My signature scrawled across the line without the pen lifting once.
Once that was done, I ran into my home office and faxed the entire signed contract straight to Byron Ryan himself.
Then I faxed a copy of it to Seth and my lawyer. Screw waiting for miniscule details to be ironed out. This deal was my only option now. My only protection.
The second everything was sent off, I took the original contract into my walk-in closet. It was the first thing I packed in my suitcase. I randomly tossed in items on top of it, without really paying attention.
Before exiting the room, I pulled on some plain clothes and a trucker hat, then wheeled my suitcase behind me to my cell.
I called down for a car, then dialed LAX. “I need the first flight out of L.A.”
Nate
What do you do when you
have to go where you aren’t wanted?
Bring a gift.
Too bad I had no idea what to get a famous, rich country princess who already had everything except, of course, for me not to show up.
I could have turned down the job, I guess. But come on. Five hundred G’s times two. Credit on an entire album, an album that would be heavily promoted and probably rock the country charts?
I couldn’t pass that up.
Plus, I wanted to see her again.
She was grouchy. Bossy. Kinda self-righteous.
Oh, and she clearly hated men as of late.
Aerie was also gorgeous, talented, and I had a hunch beneath that crunchy exterior of hers was a center made entirely of creamy, smooth ganache.
My stomach growled at the thought of ganache. I was starving.
I was currently driving a rental that was provided by the label. Byron Ryan wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted Aerie to take me home and he wanted some songs STAT.
After only getting to spend a few days in sunny L.A., I got back on Ten’s plane for Tennessee, the place Aerie had so longingly called home.
I really wasn’t even sure she knew I was coming. At least not this fast… I hoped someone told her. No one would give me her number to call and tell her myself. Hell, they wouldn’t even give me her actual address.
I didn’t even know the plane was going to Tennessee until the pilot told me before takeoff.
The second I landed, I was greeted with a set of keys to a black Tahoe with windows tinted so dark I wondered if it would feel like nighttime inside.
PS: It was dim in here for sure.
The second I got into the rental, my phone beeped with the address so I could plug it into the GPS. I sat there and looked around for a while, wondering how the hell they knew to text at the exact right moment.
Was I working for a music label or the mafia?
Fa-reeaak-yyyy.
So here I was. Driving my mafia-qualified SUV down some back road in the mountains of Tennessee. I just hoped the GPS signal held. If it didn’t, I’d probably be lost for days.
My stomach rumbled again, and I grimaced. Remembering the protein bar I had in the pocket of my duffle, I reached over into the passenger seat to grab the bag and fish around.
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