Page 22 of One More Bad Boy

Shielding my eyes from the light, I followed her to the dazzling blue car she'd driven us in yesterday. "He's that busy, huh?"This morning he seemed to have plenty of time to lounge around in his underwear.The memory didn't bring up as much distaste as I expected. Instead, I shivered as I remembered Bach's lips pressing softly to the edge of his glass of OJ.

Violet released me, climbing inside the car. "Bach is trying to balance a lot of stuff right now," she said. "He's doing his best, but..." Trailing off, she eyeballed me as I buckled myself into the passenger seat. "Forget it. Let's just not make it harder for him, is all I'm saying."

How hard could he really have it?I wondered. The car vibrated as Violet drove us through the automatic iron gates. Maybe it was because I'd experienced the opposite side of this flashy lifestyle, but I was struggling to find sympathy for a man who owned a billion-dollar empire.

How did that saying go? First world problems?

Don't be a dick,I told myself.He probably does have stuff to worry about.The article Korine had shown me, about Bach's father dying, made me sympathize with him. I knew too well what it was like to lose your family.

Clutching my knees, I looked out the window and forced myself not to get emotional. When I'd heard the news that Laurence Devine had passed on, it had cut me raw. The number of times I'd played that man's music over and over was impossible to count. It had helped me through so many tough times.

What was funny was that, as well as I'd know the guy's music, I'd known nothing about the man himself. I'd been especially shocked to learn he had a son close to my age.

His face when I sang Whispers...Bach had looked like I'd stabbed him in the gut. Had it been a bad idea? I'd just gone with something that meant a lot to me, that I knew I could perform well, and that I'd hoped would land me brownie points with Laurence's son.

Bach hadn't mentioned the performance since it had happened.I guess it wasn't as big a deal as it felt like.But, ithadbeen enough to cement that he wanted to sign me. I kept that firmly in my heart as we pulled into the parking structure of his building.

"Hurry," Violet said, scurrying out of the car on her pointed heels. She kept checking her phone frantically. "We've got sixteen minutes."

"You're counting down to the literal minute? Isn't that a bit much?"

She didn't slow down, but she did glance at me with a withering look. "This place barely runs as is. Every minute counts between now and the—" she caught herself.

Realizing the problem, I waved a hand. "Bach told me this morning about the awards. It's not a secret, if it was supposed to be."

Violet stepped into an elevator in the lot, ushering me in as she poked the buttons. "Well, good. You should know everything. It'll be easier to make things happen if you do."

That reminded me of Bach's threat. "Can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?" She was back on her phone.

"Do you think I need a makeover?"

Her red hair bounced with how fast she turned towards me. "What? Why would you ask that, do you want one?"

"No—I don't think I do. I guess I don't know." I wasn't used to feeling so unsure. "Bach mentioned that I needed one to become... a product he could sell."

Rolling her eyes, she laughed briefly. "That guy, he doesn't soften his words at all." Shouldering her purse, Violet stalked from the elevator with me close behind her. "This is a cruel industry. Everyone we need on our side has high expectations. Calling you a product isn't very nice, but..."

"But he's not wrong," I mumbled bitterly.

She paused outside of a glass-walled room. I could see inside; it looked like a secretary's lobby. "Amina, if you aren't strong, this industry will break you. It damages all of us a little bit. Not everyone can hold themselves together and make it out alive."

Her words called back a memory I was desperate to forget. "I'm not going to fall apart," I said firmly. "If you guys think I need to dye my hair green and put on leather pants, I'll suck it up." Violet was watching me with the same attention to detail she reserved for her phone. "But I won't let anyone call me a product. Because I'm not."

When she smiled, it lit her face up. "I think I like you."

I blushed all the way to my scalp. "Thanks."

"Try to keep that certainty about who you are. It's rare out here." With that, she shoved into the room. "Farrah," she snapped. "Is Bach ready for us?"

The blonde woman behind the desk flapped her giant lashes. "He's been ready for a while. He buzzed me like a hundred times, asking where you were."

Violet didn't look worried, but my stomach did a small flip. Imagining Bach on edge wasn't fun. The VP said nothing, she just pushed through the giant mahogany door and into a sun-bright room. I was sure she wanted me to follow, so I did. Inside there was a long table.

Sitting at the end, like a king, was Bach Devine.

The last time I'd seen him, he'd been wearing nothing but some apple-red briefs—and yes, I did recall the exact shade. I even remembered how deliciously they'd clung to his muscular legs and ass.

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