“They can’t do that, right?” I say. “Not without my permission.”
“Not under normal circumstances, no. But given yourcontract terms—the ones we’ve regretted for a while now—they’re within their rights. I’m really sorry, Austin.”
The room is spinning, and I shift my feet to feel the solid floor under my shoes. “What song?”
Paul lets out a big sigh. “Heart on Fire.”
Mia’s hand tightens around mine. That’s her favorite, and she’s not alone.
“Wait wait wait,” I say. “I don’t understand. They just… offered it to him?”
Paul shakes his head. “Apparently, Noah reached out tothem. He was angry about what happened after the concert the other night?—”
I snort.
“—and they did it to appease him. They don’t want the scandal that would result if he sued.”
“Sued? He hit me first. And if anyone sues, it should be Mia.”
Paul puts up both of his hands to encourage me not to shoot the messenger. “I get it. And I agree with you. But I wasn’t involved in this decision.”
My jaw feels like it’s about to shatter from how tightly I’m clenching it. I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t get to sing my own songs, but the man I dislike most in the industry does. “So, Noah was mad, and they offer him one of my songs to make him feel better?”
“No, he asked for the song specifically.”
“What? How did he even know about it?”
30
MIA
My hand is grippingAustin’s, but my brain is out in Lyon with Noah, hashing and rehashing our conversation there, replaying the moment I showed him that exact song on YouTube.
He had no idea about Austin’s original songs before I told him.Igave Noah the tools to take this revenge on Austin.
“I don’t know how he’d be aware of it,” Paul says, lifting his shoulders. “I’m really sorry, Austin.”
Austin lets go of my hand and rubs his face. The hurt and anger on it cuts my heart in two.
Paul shoots me a grimace. I can’t even manage a response. I feel sick inside.
“Let’s get out of here,” Austin says to me.
I nod, and he takes my hand as we stand. I couldn’t feel worse if I’d sold his family’s information to the Russian mafia.
“Talk to you later,” Austin says to Paul, his voice sounding almost dead.
We head out of the room, then down the hallway toward the elevators. Austin’s quiet. I’m quiet, but my grip on my suitcase handle makes my knuckles white.
My conscience is writhing like a bucket of worms as Austin presses the button for the lobby. I can’t stand it any longer.
“It’s my fault.”
Austin’s frown deepens. “What? Don’t be ridiculous, Mia.”
“It is, though.” The doors open, and Austin waits for me to go in.
I pull my suitcase inside, then turn and face him. “I told Noah about that song.”
