Page 6 of Wilde Secrets

Harper

The phone woke her. She sat up in the hotel bed and pushed hair from eyes that were gritty with sleep.

Groaning, she used one hand to rub at a sore spot on her shoulder and the other to fumble on the bedside table for the hotel phone. The shrill ring broke the silence of the room with its obnoxious volume.

Daylight broke through the curtains, lighting the floor to ceiling windows with a halo. The hotel room could be anywhere in the world. It had that same generic feeling. Harper looked around, noting her suitcase on the stand in the corner. It had arrived shortly after she did in the early hours of the morning, her dad having packed all her things and sent them on after her.

Like she’d been banished.

Perhaps I have?

“Hello?” she managed, her voice croaky.

“A rental car is being dropped off shortly. You will take it to the address King gave you and stay there until this mess is resolved.”

Her eyes flew open. “Dad?”

He ignored her, continuing to talk. “Do you realize what you have done?”

Harper swallowed a lump in her throat. “Yes.”

Jay scoffed. “I very much doubt that you do, young lady.”

Harper slumped against the pillows and drew her knees up to her chest. She wished she were brave enough to ask why he’d bothered to ask her. But she stayed silent.

“Your sister is inconsolable. She locked herself in her suite and won’t come out. If you think this is what your mother wanted?—”

Harper cut him off. “Of course not. It was an accident?—”

“You accidentally admitted your sister is a talentless hack?”

“What?” Harper gaped. “I didn’t say that!”

“It doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t say. That reporter, if she can even call herself that, has you on record admitting to writing Isla’s songs.”

Harper swallowed. It didn’t matter what she did or didn’t do now, she just had to fix it.

“I’ve issued a statement from you and Isla,” he said.

“Saying what?”

“That it’s all being taken out of context and the next album is more important than speculation in the press.”

“Oh. But the next album isn’t due for another six months. How is that going to help?”

“I’ve called in some favors. The next album isn’t due in six months anymore.” He gave a date, and Harper quickly did the math.

“That’s three weeks away! I can’t just write an entire album of songs in three weeks!” She sat bolt upright and turned to put her feet on the floor.

“If you want to fix this mess, you’d better figure out how.”

The call ended with a click. Harper looked at the handset in shock. This was madness. She replaced the handset in the cradle and stared off into the distance. Three weeks was nowhere near long enough to come up with a hit album, and she had no doubt that’s what her father expected.

Even three months was pushing it. She didn’t even have her guitar with her. It was completely unachievable.

The phone rang again, and she snatched up the handset.

“I can’t do it! It’s too soon!” She cried but was greeted with silence.

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