Page 33 of Dirty Lyrics
Fuck, it’s more than I deserve. But I’m a greedy fucker and I’ll take everything she gives me gladly.
I think it’s safe to say I’m obsessed with this woman.
With her body.
Her headlong response to my touch.
Her sweet, sinful submission.
Laying here with her in the blissful exhaustion after? That’s just icing.
The truth is, I want to stay here forever, just watching her breathe.
But reality’s a bitch.
I slide out of bed carefully, grab my phone. I see dozens of missed calls and unopened text messages.
Shit.
This prick won’t quit, and I know it, so I dial before he decides to come over and chew me out face to face.
Matheson picks up on the first ring, already in a froth.
“Where the fuck have you been, Rico? I’ve been calling you all damn night! We’ve got timelines, obligations, deals on the table. You think you can just disappear?”
I rub a hand down my face, already regretting this. “What do you want, Dan?”
“What do I want?” His voice ratchets higher. “I want you to do your fucking job! That means the next single for Lucy Volkov. I have the demo, but it needs more, dammit!”
“I hate that fucking song, Dan. I won’t be doing it.”
“Yes, you fucking will, you prick! The momentum is hot right now, the media’s eating it up. I don’t care if you have to pull lyrics out of your ass, you will deliver. Don’t forget who owns your contract. I do! I own you!”
Every word is gasoline on an already burning fire.
“No.”
My voice is steady, final.
It’s followed by a stunned silence.
“What did you just say to me?” Matheson asks.
“I said no. I’m not writing songs for Lucy Volkov. I’m not playing her love interest for your headlines. That shit is dead.”
His laugh is sharp and ugly.
“You think you’ve got the clout to tell me no? You want to burn your career to the ground? Go ahead, Rico. You’re nothing without me. I’ll bury you so fucking deep?—”
“Talk to my lawyer,” I snap, cutting him off, and hang up before I throw the phone through the wall.
My pulse is a hammer in my throat. I’m still vibrating with rage when a soft voice cuts through it.
“What was that about?”
I spin, wide-eyed, to see Maya propped on her elbow, sleepy but sharp, watching me.
Fuck.
