One More Bad Boy
Synopsis
She knows I'm bad news. I know she's my only shot at redemption. Easy on the eyes. Arrogant. Reckless playboy. I've been called worse, and I've never cared about anything but myself. Until the day my father died. I'm the sole inheritor of his record company. His legacy means the world to me, but in just a few months I've managed to lose every artist on his label. I'm screwed, but then I see her videos on Instagram. Amina Richards' voice is the answer to all my troubles. One quick contract later, and we're in business. Except... I can't focus on working with her because I'm busy fantasizing about how soft her lips feel. Sleeping with her is the only way to cleanse her from my system. I get my wish. And it turns out I'm wrong. One night together and I'm addicted to this woman. Mixing business with pleasure is fine with me, but Amina is terrified of wrecking her new career. She says she's had enough bad boys like me in her life. All I have to say to that is... What's one more?
One More Bad Boy Free Chapters
- Chapter One - | One More Bad Boy
↓
Amina:
"I said don't touch her!”
Porcelain shattered across the floor, hot tea soaking part of my shoe. It burned my ankle, but my anger was greater than my pain.
The man in front of me was dressed in a sleeveless shirt that constricted around his shoulders, causing his skin to bulge, the tattoos glistening in the overhead lights. He was the kind of guy you'd expect to see in a police line-up.
And someone I'd hoped to never see again.
His fingers locked up on my coworker's wrist. Poor Korine—she'd been right when she told me to dump this asshole weeks ago. “Murdoch,” I said through my teeth. “What are you doing here?”
He started to smile, lips twisting up too high to be kind. "Come on, babe. You wouldn't answer my calls. I just wanted to see you again. I missed you.”
"And you thought you'd show that by harassing my friend?”
Murdoch shot a scathing look at Korine, like this situation was somehow her fault. When she tugged away from him, he released her. “Chill out,” he said, running his eyes over her body. “I was just playing with her.”
“Our job is serving drinks, not being your play things,” she muttered.
“Please, as if you don't like the attention. You know that your looks are how you make any real money, sweetheart. Show some skin. Earn those tips.”
It amazed me that he could act like we were in a strip club. Caffeline was a cat cafe. We had kittens running around, we didn't play loud music or serve alcohol. We wore fluffy ears! How did this guy think it was okay to harass my co-worker?
Korine adjusted her skirt nervously, as if the knee length material was somehow too short suddenly. I knew that feeling—that weird shame. But it's not your fault, I thought, hoping she could read my mind. “Get out of here, Murdoch.” I said it under my breath so only he would hear.
His eyes narrowed meaningfully. “Come with me. Let's go back to my place, Amina. It's stupid for you to avoid me. We had so much fun together.”
I grit my molars. “It wasn't fun when I walked in on you screwing your landlord's sister.” His mouth slid into a sharp frown. “It definitely wasn’t fun when you pushed me against the wall while you were drunk.” I spoke louder, letting my voice carry. “I asked you to leave. Don't make me call the cops.”
"Listen," Murdoch said, noticing everyone staring at him. "I get that you’re upset. I made some mistakes, and I only wanted to apologize to you in person.”
“No, what you wanted to do was ignore my request that you leave me alone. Then you had the balls to make a pass at my coworker?”
“I was just having some fucking fun, okay?" His hands went up, fingers spreading. He wanted to look innocent. "Is fun not allowed?"
The tea squished in my sock when I stepped forward. "Walk out now, Murdoch, or else.”
There—the first hint of danger burned in his stare. "You're threatening me?" Laughing without humor, he stood up so that his chair scraped loudly over the floor. If everyone in the cafe hadn't been watching, they were now. "No little slut threatens me."
Korine went from nervous to furious. "What did you call her?"
"Look at your outfits!" He gestured at her, then me. "Haven't you ever watched any anime? Explored around on PornHub? You're wearing collars and cat ears! You girls are walking wet dreams, so yeah, sorry if I got too close to you. I couldn't help myself, take that as a compliment, sweet-cheeks."
She was as pissed as I was, but I still hoped to resolve this peacefully. I'd seen Murdoch's violent side. I knew he was a loose cannon. "Get out. Right now. I don't want you here."
His arms jerked wildly as he pointed at himself. "I don't have to go anywhere!" Stomping forward, he loomed over me, not noticing the white cat.
"Be careful!" I screamed.
Ignoring me, Murdoch kicked his foot out. The cat dodged as much as possible, but the scuffed-up boot bumped its haunches before it jumped aside. Its shocked cry cut through every layer of my fear. I didn't care if this man was bigger. I didn't care that he was unstable.
Never, ever, would I let someone hurt an innocent animal like that.
No fucking way.
His eyes went wide; he hadn't expected me to rush forward, gripping him by his hair. "What the hell?!" he shouted, losing his balance as I yanked him towards the door. Adrenaline fueled my strength, letting me wrestle a much bigger man through the front door of the shop.
I kicked him out onto the sidewalk. "Get the hell out of here!"
He landed hard, the knees of his denim jeans tearing. Despite his ballsy attitude moments ago, he sat on his ass and just gawked up at me. Sweat slid down his pale face—his tongue darted over his lips nervously.
I wished he'd looked as pitiful when I'd caught him cheating on me.
Without another word, he spun around and limped away.
The customers and my coworkers were silent. I hurried to look for the cat. It was sitting in Korine's arms, so content you wouldn't guess it'd been kicked.
"Daaaamn, girl," Korine breathed.
Her admiration brought me back to earth. Blinking, I rubbed at my pink cheeks. "Stop looking at me like that.”
In response, she started to clap. A few of the customers joined in, ignoring me as I urged them to quit. I was beyond embarrassed by the attention. It took a few minutes for everyone to calm down. Nana, another coworker, wiped up the glass and tea. Korine pulled me into the storage room, passing me the cat as she did so. "That was awesome! You kicked Murdoch's ass!"
Cuddling the cat, I rubbed between its ears. "I didn't want to, but he was being... well, an asshole. Like usual."
"I can't believe you dated him."
“I can't believe he showed up here.”
“Take that as a reminder.” She waved a glossy pink nail in my face. “No more messing around with bad boys, okay?”
I laughed with some chagrin. “I promised you before.”
“Promise me again!”
“Right, right.” I laid a palm flat over my heart. “No more bad boys.”
“No matter how sexy, or funny, or darkly intriguing they are.”
“Not even if they sweat chocolate.” Murdoch was the last in my long line of bad dating decisions, I was set on that.
She grimaced, shaking herself like there were spiders crawling on her skin. "Ugh. I'm pretty sure he was trying to flirt with me. How gross." She dug into one of the many boxes in the small space. Peeking at me over her shoulder, she lifted something long, white, and fuzzy. "Since we're back here anyway..."
“For the last time," I groaned, "I'm not going to put on the tail!”
Korine wilted. “But you'll look so much cuter to them with this on!”
“Cuter to who?”
“Everyone on the internet!”
Pursing my lips, I leaned against the striped wall. “Then I definitely don't want to wear it.”
“Fine. The ears are enough, I guess.”
“I don't know why I ever agreed to make these videos in the first place,” I said.
Stepping back, Korine fiddled with the camera. “It's called vlogging.”
I gave her a blank look.
“Video blog? Social media? Do those words mean anything to you?”
“Not a thing.”
Pulling air into her cheeks, she blasted it out in exasperation. “Amina, ever since you did the first video for Caffeline's instagram, our business has shot up. At this rate, the owner will give me—us—raises!"
Being a waitress wasn't my dream, but... more money was tempting. I put on a big smile. “Good point. I'm ready when you are.”
She pushed a button on the laptop she’d arranged, then flashed me a thumbs up. Cradling the cat, I swayed side to side and started to sing. It was a silly song, something I'd penned during my abundance of hours strolling the streets. It's funny how the world looks when you have nowhere to call home. Even funnier is how you can be inspired to write a cheerful song out of all that gloom.
Smiling at the camera, I trilled the last line, then grabbed the cat's paw so it looked like he was waving. “See you guys next week!”
Korine shut the laptop, eyeing me carefully. “Anyone ever tell you that you're not bad?”
“Not bad?” I laughed.
“As in, you sing really good. Surely someone has told you that."
Placing the cat onto the floor, I bent away so my face was hidden. “You're the first."
She wasn't.
“That's weird, I'd think—”
“Let's get upfront before the place gets too busy for Nana.” Effectively ending the probing conversation, I adjusted my cat-ears and opened the storage room door. The bitter scent of coffee filled my nose.
Nana caught my eye, her long blonde braid flipping as she hurried over. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey yourself.” Sticking out her tongue, she jerked her head at the packed tables. “I don't care that you guys make your dumb videos, but don't leave me alone for so long!”
“They aren't my dumb—never mind.” I snatched a pad of paper and put on a giant smile, shouldering around Nana to get to the newest customers. “Hey there! How can I help you?”
The day moved on without any more incidents. Around three in the afternoon, the place calmed down enough that I could take a break and grab some water. Sipping it, I spotted Korine as she hovered by a shelf of coffee mugs. When I saw her glancing at her smart-phone, then at me with worry twisting her features, my heart tightened. After dealing with Murdoch, I was on high alert.
I paced towards her. She saw me coming, ducking into the hallway by the storage room where we could be alone. Leaning into the wall, she whispered, “Amina. Holy shit.”
“What is it?” I whispered back. The whites of her eyes were making me nervous.
Lifting her phone, she turned it so I could see the screen. The insta-account for the cafe looked back at me. “Okay,” I started, confused. “What am I...?” I never finished. Below the newest video I'd made with Korine there was a comment.
Violet_BeatsnBlast: Hello, this is Beats and Blast Records. We're trying to reach your employee in this video. Check your DMs.
Reading it out loud, I asked, “A record company?"
“Amina, do you have any idea what's going on?”
A rumbling wall of thunderclouds slid inside my chest. “I've got a suspicion.” No, it couldn't be.
Her grin started small, but soon, it made her eyes crinkle. “They saw the videos. They heard you! Amina, this is a music company! They must want you to work with them!”
“Don't get carried away,” I said softly. “They could want to talk about anything.”
She shook her head so fast that her cat ears bounced to the floor. Scrolling to the accounts private messages, she showed me the one sent by Violet_BeatsnBlast. It listed a number and requested we get in touch. “You have to call them.”
On reflex, I touched my cellphone where it rested in my back pocket. “What if it's a prank? How do I know it's not a fake account or something?”
Gripping my shoulders, she looked me dead in the face. “Amina Richards, if you don't go into the stockroom right now and call that number, I am going to suffocate you with that damn tail you hate so much.”
Lifting my chin, I gave her a quick, no-nonsense nod. “Alright. Okay. But if it's fake, don't you dare tell anyone I fell for it.”
She gave me the exact same serious nod. “Understood.” Squeezing me, she lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh my gosh, if you become famous, please don't forget me. Okay?”
There was no way for her to know what was going on in my head, but her childish excitement was enough to settle my unease. “Of course not.” Quickly, I copied the number from the message on her phone into my own. “Go out front and keep Nana from chasing me down while I do this.”
Opening the door, I slid into the small room. The shelves were so cluttered you could hardly see the striped walls. I touched down on the chair by the laptop, then jumped up, far too anxious to sit. Am I really doing this?
A wave of old memories and too-crisp fears hit me. Biting my tongue, I held my phone out and stared at the number I'd typed into it. The blue screen was steady, unlike my insides.
Do it. Just call and see.
There was no harm in the call. If this was fake, fine, I'd be disappointed. But if it was real?
Oh fuck.
What if it was real?
Did abandoned dreams get second chances?
Tightening my resolve, I focused on the phone...
And I called the number.
- Chapter Two - | One More Bad Boy
↓
Bach:
“For fuck's sake!” Slamming my palm against the wall caused an echo to rumble through the pool room. The water enhanced the noise, made it metallic and raw.
Violet didn't flinch, she just held out a towel to me. “Dry off.”
“He actually said he was pulling out of his contract?” Water rained down from my hair, glistening over my half-naked body. Swimming had always been a way to center myself. It gave me focus.
Now, every bit of good it had done broke away with this news.
I was furious.
Straightening, I faced my vice president. Her long red hair was pulled high, tightening the already smooth skin of her ever-patient expression. Waving the towel, she sighed. “Bach, just get dressed. You'll want to talk to him before he leaves the building and—”
“He's still here?” Santino Fresh had the gall to walk into my company, announce he was ending his contract, and he hadn't even asked for me personally? That son of a bitch had a pair of brass balls.
“Where is he? Is he with Farrah?”
“Yes, but—Bach, wait!”
Storming forward in just my black swim trunks—the material clinging tightly to my thighs and showing off my richly tattooed body—I stalked out of the glass doors.
Beats and Blast Records consisted of several floors. This one was near the top, the pool private and for me alone. If Violet was right, Santino was lingering with my secretary as he finished signing off on the papers.
In the halls, I passed by several employees. The women ogled my damp skin as I stormed through the rooms. I was on a mission, I didn't have time to enjoy their hungry stares.
The men looked, too, but their eyes were mostly dark with envy. How could they not be? Whether I wanted it or not, I was Bach Devine, sole inheritor of my father's billion-dollar music empire. I was the man they all wanted to be—and the ladies ached to be with.
Shoving into my private lobby, I enjoyed the flicker of surprise on Santino's face. He'd been hunched over the front desk, alternating between filling out the form in front of him and staring into my secretary's cavernous cleavage.
At my arrival, he held the pen up like it was a weapon. That was good; his instincts were telling him that even in just swim trunks, I was a man worth fearing. “Bach,” he started to say.
“How fucking dare you.” I stopped inches from his face, backing him against the desk. My secretary—Farrah—covered her mouth in distress. The last few droplets of water on my skin bounced onto Santino's shirt. “You show up at my company to yank out of your contract and you can't tell me to my face?”
“Take it easy!” He laughed, but he was starting to sweat. He had a front row seat to how the cords in my forearms flexed. “You're a busy man, Bach. I thought Violet would handle it.”
“And when you signed with us, did you do it through Violet?”
His lips pulled into a sickening smile. “I remember shaking hands with your father. Not you. In fact, I think I remember you were on some bender in Vegas. Or maybe you were serving jail time. My memory isn’t always so good.”
Ignoring his bait, I said, “You'd never have done this to my father.”
“Bach, this isn't personal. It's business.”
“Business.” I spit the word out, leaning ever closer. “My father made you famous and this is how you thank him?”
“Is running this place into the ground how you thank him?”
My fist came around so fast that I almost couldn't stop myself. I redirected the energy; instead of punching him in the nose, I gathered up the front of his shirt. His arrogance melted into terror.
“Bach!” Violet—the wise woman that she was—had followed me. Reaching around my middle, she tried pulling me backwards. “Bach, calm down! This isn't helping!”
She was right, of course. But Santino's words had cut me deeper than any insult ever could. I was seeing red—and all because he was right.
Violet lowered her voice. “Bach, please.”
When I released him, my fingers throbbed from the tension. I flexed them, then gently eased Violet off of me. My hot gaze never strayed from the other man. “Finish your paperwork and get the hell out of here. We don't need musicians who can't commit representing us.”
He was breathing heavy, his knuckles stained black. He'd gripped the pen so hard that it had broken, ink splattering on his skin. “You're lucky I don't sue you,” he said.
“You're lucky your contract allows you to cut and run with no penalties,” Violet spat back. “Laurence Devine didn't believe in that kind of thing. He trusted the people he brought into this company. Thought they had integrity. Pride.”
Her implication that Santino didn't have those qualities made him bristle. “People have their reasons.”
“Money,” I chuckled darkly. “It's always money.”
“At least Eckland's label has some to throw around.”
I bit my tongue. Danny Eckland had been one of my father's rivals. Never quite as good as Beats and Blast, but... if I kept losing my musicians like this...
Looking away, Santino bent over the desk. Farrah offered him a wet-wipe, then a new pen. Her crystal-blue eyes fixed on me, as if I'd yell at her for helping. That look unsettled me; I put on a fake smile, mouthing, “It's okay.”
It was one thing to direct my fury at someone who'd wronged me, it was another to let others get caught in the crossfire. Suddenly aware of my swim trunks and bare feet, I walked out of the room at a quick pace.
Violet was on my heels, her shoes clicking as she struggled to keep up. “What the hell were you thinking?” she asked.
Palming my damp hair, I said nothing.
“Slow down for a second!”
I entered the nearest elevator, ignoring how the exiting women gawked at me. One of them whispered, “That was Bach Devine!” Before the doors shut, she lifted her phone, snapping a picture.
Great, another memorable photo for the internet. As if people didn't have enough reasons to talk about me. And why did so many of my photos have me mostly—or totally—naked? At least I look good. Small favors.
Violet had jumped in before the doors shut. She promptly smacked my shoulder with her purse. “Stop running and listen to me!”
“Fucking Danny Eckland?”
“Forget about Santino, I have news.”
“Great. Nothing goes better with a stiff drink than news.”
“It's two in the afternoon, why are you—never mind.” Chasing me into my office, Violet shut the door behind us. “Just look at me so I know you're listening.”
My office was big and wide, the furniture a soothing white color. On one end there was a partial kitchen with a bar, the marble swirling with rich silver. The window behind my desk overlooked the city.
On the back of my padded chair hung a suit-jacket I kept around for decoration. Pretty sure Violet gave it to me as a gift. Or a not-so-subtle reminder of how important my job was.
It wasn't my style, I'm a jeans and t-shirt guy, but it was the only dry thing in sight so I grabbed it, sliding it over my bare chest. It would do for now.
Crossing to the stainless-steel fridge, filling a glass with ice, I poured straight vodka into it. Only then did I look pointedly at Violet. “I'm listening.”
She lifted her eyebrows in disapproval. “I'm tempted not to tell you, now.”
The vodka burned down my throat, swirling in my gut and removing some of my bitter mood. “I'm tempted not to share my vodka.”
“Not everyone drinks in the middle of the day, Bach.”
“Too bad, it'd make everyone much friendlier.”
“Whatever. Just look at this.” Pulling out her phone, she tapped the screen, loading a video. “I know you're sore about losing Santino, but I think I've got the answer to your problems right here.”
My problems. My VP was referring to the crushing fact that my father's empire was losing talent left and right. Many had walked out soon after his death, but others drifted as each of my decisions failed to stop our decline into the red.
People were panicking, investors were shutting their check books. Those who'd once consulted with my father for advice, as well as offered wisdom, had turned their backs on me.
I was failing. So if Violet had an answer? I had to listen.
The girl in the video was frozen in time. Paused as she was, I was able to scrutinize her freely. Short hair dark as a crow’s feather tickled her ears. A pair of fluffy white ears were perched on her scalp, her head angled down as she smiled at the cat in her arms. I wondered, suddenly, what color her eyes were.
Then I wondered why the fuck that mattered. A single frame of a video was useless to me. What the hell was Violet playing at? She was watching me with anticipation. I took a long sip of my drink. “This,” I began, letting each of my words thicken the air, “Is the answer to my problems?”
The edges of her mouth dipped down. “There it is, that tone of yours.”
“It's not a damn tone.”
“It is!” She stabbed a finger at the phone. “This girl is exactly what this company needs. She's fresh, she's different!”
“She's a girl wearing... what are those, cat ears?”
“Ugh.” Her hand came up, tapping me on the skull multiple times. “Ugh ugh ugh! You haven't even listened to her sing yet.”
I gestured sharply at the dark-haired stranger with my drink. “I figured your suggestion would involve a singer who was...”
“What? A big-titted wannabe actress?”
My eyebrows scrunched together. “A somebody. Where did you even find her?”
“Instagram.”
“Is that what it’s come to? Jesus. I need another drink.”
“Don’t give me that, social media has launched careers for plenty of people.”
Ignoring her, I refilled my glass. “Mmhm.”
“You don't get it. How could you, honestly? You only show up online when people catch you doing reckless shit—I mean, those girls snapped a photo of you in swim trunks in the middle of an elevator just five minutes ago!”
Okay, that made me smile. “Are you trying to protect my image? I didn't know you could be so sweet.”
She pushed her phone back into my line of sight. “Her name is Amina, and thanks to these videos, she's gotten over eight-hundred thousand followers for the coffee shop she works at!”
“Alright, I admit, that's impressive.” I held out my hands; Violet gave me the phone. Could this random nobody really save my company? It was an idea that was too good to be true. Even considering it had my pulse flickering. Don't get excited, I warned myself. Ever since I'd been handed control of Beats and Blast, nothing had gone right.
Why would that change now?
I started the video. Amina rocked on the screen, a gentle motion that somehow added to the lilt of her voice. The song she was singing was clean—water and crystal and velvet in my ears. She was reaching through the phone and stroking the contours of my soul.
She became more enticing the longer she sang. Her plump lips spread apart, luring me deeper, making me imagine what else they could do. The way her chest rose as she took a new breath to sing another lyric had my mouth drying out.
Then her head rose up. She looked straight at the camera.
Gray as a storm cloud. That was the color of her eyes.
The frozen, singular frame Violet had used to introduce me to this woman had been a trick. It had left me fully unprepared for this… this wave of life. I’d expected to tell my VP that this was a waste of time. I never expected my heart to skip a beat.
Violet's whisper was free of mockery. “I was right, wasn't I?”
Carefully, I turned off the phone and handed it back. “I want her. Find out how to make that happen.” Her sly grin gave away her game. “You already got her, didn't you?”
“If you're asking if I convinced a certain hot and fresh internet star to visit us here in LA and decide if she wants to sign a contract that will change her life...” Plucking the glass from my hand, she took a sip. “Then yeah, I guess I did.”
“Holy shit!” Laughing, I vaulted over the bar, grabbing her in a hug. “You wonderful woman! She's really coming? What did she say?”
Wriggling out of my grip, Violet set the glass aside. “She agreed to hear us out. She sounded very excited.”
“When does she arrive?”
“Her plane lands tomorrow afternoon.”
“Alright, and when does she leave?” How long do I have to try and convince her to work with us?
Violet chewed the side of her lip. Her posture was closed off. “I kind of bought her a one-way ticket.” I laughed in surprise. “Don't smirk so much about it. The company is bleeding dry. Amina needs to convince the world that we can produce platinum artists again, or else...”
Everything HE worked so hard for will vanish.
Gently, I grabbed her shoulder. “Violet?”
Her eyes flashed curiously. “Yes?”
I dropped my voice, making sure I was as serious as I could ever be. “We have a lot of work ahead of us. And you know that I fucking hate work. But this company means everything to me. I will save our jobs—this place—and everything my father created. This girl could launch Beats and Blast straight to the top before the year ends.”
She was staring at me like I was a damn ghost. I wondered how I looked to her, was I as convincing as I wanted to be? “You're hoping she'll be ready in time for the SoCal Artist Awards, aren't you?”
She's too sharp. Guess that's why Dad hired her. “It's the reason you brought her to my attention, isn't it?”
Her eyes softened, but her voice was hard. “No. My hope was that we could build her into a star that would draw in artists to replace the ones we lost. What you're talking about... Bach, if she loses in front of that many people, it'll ruin us faster than anything.”
“And a slow death is better?”
She had the courtesy not to comment.
In a few long steps, I found myself standing on the other side of the room. The windows that swept across the walls showed off the hazy sky. LA wasn't a young city, it was a city for the young. These days, I felt older than ever. Was it from late night drinks in shit-hole dive bars? Was it the rotation of quickly forgotten women who rolled out of my bed?
Across the way, the windows of other buildings twinkled at me. They were the closest I'd come to seeing the stars in far too long. “Maybe you’re right,” I said softly. “Throwing money and effort into a stranger could be what tears the last of this company down.” My father's legacy. “But for the first time since he died, I actually feel like we stand a chance. What else can we do except jump in with both feet first?” Inhaling through my nose, I clung to that single breath. I was dizzy when I finally let it free. Twisting, I saw that Violet’s eyes were glistening.
She whispered, “You're going to hate this, but...”
“Don't you dare say it.”
“You remind me of him. Sometimes, I mean.”
“Violet?”
Her eyes widened eagerly. “Yes?”
“I could really use some pants. These wet trunks are freezing my dick off.”
The intense mood shattered. Stomping my way, her fist clocked me solidly in the shoulder. “Asshole.”
Rubbing my arm, I grinned. “I was really working you up there, wasn't I?”
“For a waste of space playboy, you give pretty good speeches.”
Smiling, I dropped into the chair behind my desk. “At least I can do something right around here.” The way I said that, it had her eyeing me with too much sympathy for my comfort. Putting my bare feet up, I pointed at the door. “I'm serious. Get me some pants.”
Violet considered me for a long minute. “Do you want to come with me when I pick her up at LAX tomorrow?”
“You think I'm that eager to get my hands on her, huh?”
“The way you phrased that makes it sound dirty.”
Chuckling, I slid deeper in the chair. “Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not looking for a piece of ass. Amina's going to put money in our pockets, get me back on top. I'm not going to mess that up by screwing around with her.”
“Where was this logic when you were fucking every other girl on our roster?”
It wasn't the first time she'd complained about my hook-up habits. When my father ran things and I didn't have to play at being the boss, I'd probably slept with eighty percent of the female talent. It rarely went well. Turns out people would rather date Bach Devine, rich son of a music legend, than join his one-night-stand club.
Violet hovered by the door. “You really mean it, you won't sleep with her and mess everything up this time?” My expression darkened—she winced. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I just want you to finally follow through with something.”
“You really can't let me live down my mistakes, huh?” Lifting my hand, I shook my head. “I promise I'll try my best to stay out of Amina's bed.”
“You'll try? That's supposed to be comforting?”
“What would be comforting would be some damn dry pants.”
“Right, sorry!” Taking an exaggerated bow, she stepped into the hall. “It's good to hear that you won't mix business and pleasure. That's all—hey!”
I'd chucked a pen at her; it bounced off the door frame, sending her running. I scrubbed a palm down my face. Did she have to act like the condescending older sister I never had?
It's like she thinks I'll jump this girl's bones the second I see her.
I would never risk this company for a woman. It was insulting to imply it. Except, that wasn't what was bothering me. What was really buzzing around in my skull was what she'd said earlier.
I remind her of my father?
It was a compliment I didn't fucking deserve.
My dad had been kind, talented, and compassionate. A man worth loving.
I was nothing like him.
And I never would be.