Bad Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy Book 1)

by Lauren Rowe

  Georgina has reached me now. We’re standing mere inches apart, our body heat mingling. I swallow hard. I have no desire to let anyone see how the sausage gets made in my world. On the other hand, though, Georgina is right. I can pick and choose the questions I answer. Control the narrative. And it certainly wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have this woman tied to my hip for an entire week. By day two, at the latest, she’ll surely be naked and spread eagle in my bed.

  She looks up at me, her full lips wet and her hazel eyes sparkling. “I won’t take no for an answer,” she whispers. And for the first time in my life, the phrase doesn’t make me want to scream “No, motherfucker!” It makes me want to whisper, “Yes, baby, yes. Whatever you want.”

  I extend my hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal. Well played.”

  Her face lights up with surprise. Joy. Relief. And, suddenly, she looks every bit the twenty-one-year-old newbie she is. “Seriously?”

  I nod. “One week. You’ll be my shadow. I’ll be your interview subject. And we’ll see what happens.”

  “Will you still get me a hotel room, so I won’t have to commute from the Valley?”

  I force myself not to smirk. If I get my way, Georgina won’t be sleeping in a hotel room this coming week. She’ll be lying next to me, naked, every fucking night. “Of course,” I say, extending my hand again. “Do we have a deal, Madame Reporter? Can we finally agree to put this Penny Lane bullshit to rest?”

  She stares at my extended hand without moving. And I can practically see the gears in her head turning. I lower my hand. Oh, for the love of fuck. What now?

  She looks up and grimaces at me. “Sorry, I just realized there are two more things I have to ask for—”

  “Georgie!”

  “Before shaking on it.”

  “No.”

  “Two teeny-tiny things.”

  “No.”

  “And, then, I swear, we’ll absolutely be able to put this deal”—she smiles adorably—“to bed.”

  Chapter 24

  Georgina

  Reed lowers his hand and plops onto the couch, looking highly annoyed with me. “Whatever else you’re going to ask for, the answer is no. I’m done negotiating with you.”

  “But you haven’t even heard what I—”

  “It doesn’t matter. Amateur hour at the poker table is over. Scoop up your chips and walk away while you still can, Miss Ricci. The deal we just negotiated is my final and best offer.”

  I sit in the armchair across from Reed, my heart racing. “Just listen to me.”

  He puts up his palm. “Tread carefully. Whatever you’re going to ask for, make sure it’s worth risking what I’ve already put on the table. Maybe, in response to whatever new things you demand, I’ll demand something new, too. Something you don’t want to give. Or, maybe, I’ll start taking things off the table. Stuff you thought was already settled and done. Do you really want to risk that?”

  Shit, he’s intimidating. Confident and sexy and formidable beyond belief when he flips into his “music mogul businessman mode.” But it can’t be helped. Just before I shook Reed’s hand, I realized I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t get two more items sneaked into our deal. “Yeah, both things are worth it to me,” I say confidently, even though I’m shitting a brick.

  Reed scoffs, leans back on the couch, and motions like he’s giving me the floor. “Let’s hear it, then.”

  My stomach somersaults. I take a deep breath. “Okay. First off, about that party tonight—”

  “No.”

  “Listen. I want you to take me there, Reed, in my official capacity as a writer for Rock ‘n’ Roll, solely to—”

  “No.”

  “Listen! I want to observe how RCR lets off steam after a show. And I also want to break the ice with them for my future group interview of them and my solo stir-fried interview with Dean. Reed, come on. Readers would want to read about a star-struck fan getting to party with rock royalty, and you know it. It’d be a huge missed opportunity for me to not go. In fact, I’d even say it’d be a gross dereliction of duty if I didn’t go, which might get me fired.”

  Reed’s dark eyes are unmistakably unimpressed. Well, damn. I thought I was being pretty persuasive. But, okay, I’ll try another tack.

  “Reed, like I said, I had a RCR poster on my wall as a teenager. ‘Shaynee’ is one of my all-time favorite songs. My fourteen-year-old self would never forgive me if I missed this party. I know you party with rock stars all the freaking time. For you, it’s as ho-hum as eating a bag of chips. But it’d be a once in a lifetime experience for me, and, selfishly, I reallllly don’t want to miss out.”

  Reed exhales like he’s painfully bored. “Are you finished? Have you now exhausted all your less than persuasive arguments regarding item number one?”

  “Only if you’re going to say yes. If not, I’ve got another ten minutes all cued up.”

  He can’t resist smiling at that. “Okay, so, if I’m understanding this correctly, Little Miss Georgina Ricci is dying to party like a rock star, huh?”

  “She is. But for professional purposes only.”

  Reed can’t help chuckling. “All right, sweetheart. I tell you what I’ll do. Actually, I was already contemplating doing this exact thing. I talked to Owen about this yesterday, as a matter of fact. A week from today, next Saturday, I’m going to throw a party at my house—a fucking awesome rager, celebrating the special issue. And you and the other writers assigned to the project will be my guests of honor.”

  I leap up from the armchair and squeal and jump around with glee.

  “Every artist on my label who isn’t on tour will be there, so they can meet you and the other writers. It’ll be a chance to break the ice and brainstorm. And, of course, you’ll have the chance to party like a rock star, exactly as your fourteen-year-old self would have wanted.”

  I can’t stop jumping around, laughing and hooting like a maniac, and Reed can’t stop laughing at my silly display.

  “Are you drunk?” he asks, laughing.

  “I feel like it!” I say, giggling. “Thank you!”

  “I take it we’ve reached agreement on your item number one?”

  “Yes!” I shriek, doing a stupid little twirl. “Thank you so much!” When I come out of my spin, I have the impulse to hug him, again, but jerk back sharply at the last second, same as last time, as if I’m saving myself from a burning pyre. For the love of fuck. I can’t hug this sexy man. If I do, then I’ll kiss him. And if I kiss him, then I’ll fuck him—maybe even in this room. And if I fuck him, especially here, then I’ll lose all my bargaining power on item number two—which, frankly, is the far more critical item for me to secure.

  I stand stock still in front of Reed, my chest heaving from my little dance, to discover Reed’s cheeks blazing red and a massive erection bulging behind his pants. Oh, God, that hard-on is making my mouth water. I want to rub myself against it... and then pull it out of its bondage and ride it like a pony.

  But, no.

  I have to remain strong.

  I have to get through my second demand without folding like a beach chair, or I’ll never again have a shred of bargaining power with him. That much is clear.

  Out of nowhere, Reed clears his throat and abruptly strides across the room. “You want a beer, party animal?”

  I plop onto the couch, my heart racing. “Sure. Thanks.”

  Reed’s gorgeous body is poetry in motion as he glides across the room. His ass divine. He grabs two bottles from a mini-fridge, pops their caps, crosses the room again, and hands a cold bottle to me. To my surprise, he sits next to me on the couch this time, foregoing his armchair. And, as he settles into his seat, I can’t help noticing his boner is gone.

  Reed takes a long swig of his beer. “Just a heads up about the party,” he says. “Red Card Riot won’t be there. They’ll still be on tour. But that’s for the best, because I want to introduce you to 22 Goats, and they won’t come if RCR is invited.�
�

  I tilt my head. “The 22 Goats guys don’t like the RCR guys?”

  “Wow. You don’t follow celebrity gossip at all, do you?”

  I shake my head.

  “C-Bomb and Dax had a pretty big falling out. The other guys don’t give a shit about any of it, but nobody in either band is willing to cross the picket line. They’ve gotta support their guy. It’s how it works in a band.”

  I open my mouth to say, “I bet my stepsister, Alessandra, would know all about the beef between C-Bomb and Dax. She follows celebrity gossip religiously, especially when it comes to musicians.” But, instantly, I shut my mouth, realizing I now need to add “item one-and-a-half” to my list of demands. Crap! I can’t attend Reed’s rock-star-studded party without bringing Alessandra as my plus-one. And not even as a ploy to get her signed to River Records. No, that’s what my second item will address. But because Alessandra, the girl who attends a renowned music school and is obsessed with music and musicians, and always has been, deserves more than anyone I know—and far more than me—to party like a rock star with Reed’s roster of world-renowned rock stars. “Hey, uh, before we leave item one for good... ” I begin.

  “Oh, for the love of fuck!” Reed blurts, throwing up his hand. “What now, Georgie?”

  I press my palms together in prayer. “Can I please bring someone to the party, as my plus-one? I mean, not as a date or anything. Someone—”

  “Your stepsister?”

  I nod sheepishly. “Not as a ploy to get her signed. She could stand in a corner and people-watch the entire night and never talk to you or anyone, and it would still be the best night of her life.”

  Reed swigs his beer, rolling his eyes. “She’s a student at Berklee in Boston, you said?”

  I nod effusively. “She just finished her second year last week. She’s in LA for my graduation. Please, please, don’t make that poor girl sit at her mother’s house watching Netflix on a Saturday night while I’m at your house, partying like a rock star with 22 Goats.”

  Reed pauses. And then shocks me by saying, “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “She can come.”

  Without meaning to do it, I leap onto his lap and straddle him. “Thank you!” I throw my arms around his neck and kiss his cheek. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  Instantly, Reed’s erection hardens deliciously underneath me. “On one condition,” he adds.

  I freeze on top of him, panting... and wait.

  “Neither of you will try, even once, to get me to listen to her music that night.”

  “I promise.”

  “I’ll be off the clock, Georgie.”

  I nod enthusiastically. “I promise I’ll control myself. And, don’t worry, Alessandra would never try to sell herself to you, anyway. Not that night, or ever. She’s painfully shy and the worst at tooting her own horn. Plus, I’m sure she’ll be too star-struck that night to say two words to anyone but me.”

  Reed tilts his head back and exhales, annoyed with me. “Georgina, come on!”

  “What?”

  He lifts his head, still keeping his arms firmly planted at his sides. “Why would you tell me that about her? Think, sweetheart.” He puts a palm on my cheek. “Use that amazing bean of yours, baby. At some point, you are going to try to sell me on her music, right? In fact, I’m guessing that’s your item number two. And do you really think telling me she’s ‘painfully shy’ is a good selling point for an artist you’re trying to sell to me?”

  My stomach drops. “Fuck.” I slide off him and slink back to the armchair and curl my legs underneath me.

  “Well, shit. I didn’t mean to make you run away,” he mutters.

  “She comes alive onstage, Reed. She’s only painfully shy whenever she doesn’t have a guitar in her hands.” I bite my lip. My nipples are rock hard and my clit throbbing from our unexpected contact a moment ago, and I’m finding it hard to think straight. “Actually, yeah, can we just move on to item number two now?”

  “Sure. Did I guess right?”

  I nod. “Did you happen to check out Alessandra’s Instagram page, like I asked you to do the other night?”

  Reed chuckles. “You didn’t ‘ask’ me to check it out. You shrieked her handle at me, right before speeding off in an Uber, both middle fingers raised in the air. And, no, I didn’t check her out. In fact, I forgot her handle two seconds after you screamed it at me. Call me crazy, but I don’t tend to do favors for shrieking people who’ve passionately told me to fuck off and die.” He subtly adjusts his hard dick in his pants, and the gesture zings me straight in the clit. I want that.

  “Fair enough,” I say. “But that’s water under the bridge now, right? Now that we’ve both agreed we could have handled things better that night. Surely, now that we’re friends again, you’re feeling inclined to listen to her music now... to put our deal to bed?”

  “Nope. I have zero desire whatsoever to listen to your stepsister’s music. Especially not now that I know she’s ‘painfully shy.’” He shifts in his seat again, relieving his hard-on, and shoots me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “So, are you ready to shake on a deal now or what?”

  “No. Reed, it would take mere minutes for you to listen to Alessandra’s demo, and I’d be eternally grateful to you.”

  “You should already be eternally grateful to me. I’m letting you follow me around for a week, throwing a party for you, and letting you bring Alessandra as your guest to the party. Actually, you know what? Thanks to your lack of eternal gratitude for everything I’ve already agreed to give you, I’m thinking maybe I should start taking things off the table. Maybe we don’t need a full week for our interview. Maybe we can get it done in five days. Yeah, that sounds good. Five days, it is.”

  “Reed, no.”

  “Hey, I warned you. Think hard before throwing in new, last-minute demands that might fuck up what you’ve already secured. You’re about to learn an important, but basic, lesson in negotiations the hard way, Georgie. Know when to cash in your chips and run like hell. Actually, the more I think about it, I think we can do our interview in four days.”

  Fuck! I feel like I’m going to pass out. But I can’t fail Alessandra now. If one of us is going to swerve, it’s going to have to be Reed. “The three songs on her demo are about three minutes each,” I sputter. “I’m asking for less than ten minutes of your time.”

  “We’re down to three days now. Tick tock. Cash in your chips, baby.”

  I grit my teeth. “River Records would be lucky to sign Alessandra. Don’t agree to listen to her demo for me. Listen for you.”

  “Two days.” Reed shakes his head and taps his watch. “You’re blowing it, Georgie.”

  What the fuck is wrong with him? One minute he’s charming and sweet, and throwing me a party, and grinding his dick into me as I’m kissing his cheeks like crazy, and the next he’s—

  Oh.

  I suddenly get it.

  I know what Reed is doing. What he wants.

  He wants me to bribe him.

  To figure out his price.

  Everyone’s got one, right?

  Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to pull out the big guns, and figure out Reed’s.

  Chapter 25

  Reed

  Georgina’s entire demeanor shifts on a dime. Right before my eyes, she transforms from a panicked possum in a trap to a sultry femme fatale. She gets up from the armchair and straddles me on the couch, batting her eyelashes at me. She rubs her nose against mine. “All right, Mr. Rivers. Let’s cut the crap. I’m ready to close this deal, sweetheart. You said everyone’s got a price.” She runs her finger across my cheekbone. “So, what’s yours, honey?”

  Hallelujah. “I don’t have a price, Georgina.”

  She shoots me a snarky look, fully aware I’m throwing her own naïve words back at her. “How about this?” she purrs, her fingertip making its way to my ear. “You agree to listen to Alessandra’s full demo—all three songs—and, in e
xchange, I’ll give you a lap dance that lasts the same amount of time as you give Alessandra’s music.”

  My cock is hard underneath her, my breathing shallow. But I force myself to keep a straight face and my hands on the couch cushions. I’ve come this far. I’m not going to cave until I get exactly what I want. I say, “Wasn’t it you who told me to fuck off and die when I suggested this very sort of bargained-for exchange was your agenda from the start? And now, here you are, mere days later, surrendering your righteousness like an expired passport?”

  She grinds herself into my steely bulge. “I’ve learned a few things about negotiation tactics since then. I’ve got a very good teacher.”

  Oh, fuck. I’m on the bitter cusp of throwing my arms around her and kissing the hell out of her sultry mouth. Which I absolutely can’t let myself do, or else I’ll surely cave and give the girl anything she wants.

  “Lemme guess,” I say, my chest heaving. “Has a certain hothead spent the entire past week regretting the way she flew off the handle the other night?”

  “Maybe I’ve realized bribing you with something I want to give, anyway, would, in fact, be a win-win.”

  My cock is straining. Aching. More likely than not, dripping with my need for her. “Would this lap dance be performed in the nude?” I ask.

  She looks shocked. “No. I’d perform it in this. Right here and now.” She motions to her outfit—a short skirt and low-cut blouse. “After shaking on the deal, I’d give you a little show... ” She nuzzles her nose against mine. “And then you’d listen to all three songs, right here and now, as well.”

  I shake my head. “For a clothed lap dance, I’d be willing to listen to ten seconds of the first song. But that’s it.” My tone is businesslike. Flat. Like we’re two farmers negotiating the price of grain. But, inside, I’m a hurricane of pent-up sexual arousal. On the bitter edge of folding like bad poker hand.

  “Ten seconds?” Georgina purrs, skimming her lips across my cheekbone. “That’s an insult to lap dancers everywhere, Mr. Rivers. Or, at least, to this one.”