Page 7 of One More Bad Boy

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, I filled a glass with ice and 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 and investors were shutting their check books. Those who'd once consulted 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 isexactlywhat 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. “Asomebody.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'tget 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-thousandfollowers 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.

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