I snorted. “Have you not been listening to me? The last thing I’m going to do is re-sign with your label, beholding myself and my career to you for another fucking decade.”
That would be a hell no.
I started to get up to walk out, having felt like this was a complete waste of my time, but Nate grabbed my wrist tightly, keeping me from leaving. At that exact moment, our waitress approached our table to ask if we were ready to order.
I saw her gaze drop to Nate's hand around my wrist. Worriedly, she glanced up at me, and I smiled at her. Slowly, I sat back down. Nate released my wrist.
“We need a few more minutes,” Nate said to the waitress but glared at me.
I watched her walk off.
“You’re not going any fucking where until I say so,” Nate threatened through gritted teeth.
“I know it’s been a while since we’ve had a whole conversation, but you’ve lost your mind if you think you can speak to me like that. Or put your damned hands on me,” I growled.
He blinked and pulled away from the table slightly. He held up his hands. “My fault.”
I relaxed, but not by much.
“But listen to this,” he said with a gleam in his eyes. “You will hand over that album soon, and you will sign that new contract.” He held up his hands when I opened my mouth to speak. “Because I would hate for anyone to find out the shady shit your boyfriend is up to with his business.”
Words clogged my throat.
“Wh-What are you talking about?”
Nate’s top lip curled upward, and he glanced around before his dark eyes landed on me again.
“Yeah, your white boy, Gabriel, is into all kinds of shit with his company.” A grin spread across his face, but it held only malice. There was no humor in it at all. “Let me show you something.”
He retrieved his phone and scrolled to something before he turned the screen to me. “I’ll play it with the volume off since we’re in public.” He hit the play button on the video.
It was blurry at first, but then I recognized the room. A darkened cement basement dwelling with piping along the walls. A crowd cheered for two people in the center. The video zoomed in, and front and center stood Eli fighting with some guy.
“Let’s forward this baby up to the best part,” Nate said, sounding too cheerful. He turned the phone my way again, and it showed Gabriel in that underground fighting ring. It was from that night I went with him to get Eli out of there.
“Illegal fighting.” Nate tutted and shook his head as he turned off the video. “I bet the professional leagues would love to get their hands on this video. To find your white boy illegally betting with his client, too.” Nate let out a sardonic chuckle.
“You son of a bitch,” I whispered.
Another phony frown. “Ouch.” But soon, his expression turned cold. “Serves his ass right for coming to my fucking studio in LA and threatening me. And you for sending him.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, feeling lost.
“Don’t play that bullshit, Lena,” he warned. “He came up in my studio threatening me about you, and you sat here in Texas thinking you got over on me.” He shook his head.
“No, fuck that. Here’s the deal. You’re going to break up with your boyfriend, or else every sports paper in this country will be running articles on how your boy is involved in illegal betting.
“How he sets all of his athletes up for these bets and makes money off of it. His business will dry up faster than the California desert during fire season. And you’ll bring your ass back to LA, finish that album, and sign your new contract.”
Nate stood up and slid his phone into his pocket. I could barely keep my face neutral as I stared at the smug grin on his face.
“I’ll give you one week. Seven days to get it done, Lena. I’ll be waiting on you in Los Angeles.”
He glared down at me.
Our waitress approached.
“Oh, you know what?” Nate asked, snapping at the waitress. “I decided against this place for brunch. I heard they had better shrimp and grits across the street.” Nate peered down at me again. “She’s got the tab for the drinks.”
