“None taken. I’m used to being around rock stars with inflated egos, remember?” With a casual wave, she disappeared inside the hotel.
Double, or was thattripleouch?
My driver opened the door for me as I approached the car, and I managed to slip inside unnoticed.
“Home, sir?”
Pinching the inner corners of my eyes with my thumb and forefinger, I nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”
As the car pulled away from Kingcaid Kensington, I glanced through the back window, smiling. Today might have been the most fun I’d had in a long time.
My phone’s ringing tone, and the name that popped up on the screen, wiped the smile right off my face. I swiped to answer.
“Kate? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Arthur. He won’t settle. He’s asking for you.”
“I’m on my way.” I hung up, tapping my driver on the shoulder. “Change of plans. Take me to Kate’s, fast as you can.”
He nodded. “On it.”
The car u-turned, and we sped in the opposite direction. I should have known that the universe wouldn’t allow me a moment of peace, of fun and, yes, forgive me, a moment to forget.
Chapter 5
Aspen
I’m good people… apparently. Who knew.
It feltgood to be home.
I’d spent an unplanned weekend in London going over Joz’s contract, and only once I’d sent it to the relevant parties did I get on a plane back to New York. I could have flown back on Friday morning, but I wanted to stick around in case something came up that required my presence.
Truly, I hadn’t expected him to cave on Presley. He’d been so adamant that the young musician be a part of the deal that, if he’d pushed, I’d have agreed in the end. Signing Joz Raynor was worth yielding on this single point, especially given the amount of talent Presley had… even if I had told Joz I didn’t give in to manipulation tactics. Still, I’d emerged in a strong position, and that pleased me. I’d already set my head of PR, Sam, the task of researching Presley, and providing there were no red flags in his background, and the board had no objections, I’d pull together a deal.
I swept through immigration and into my car, only suffering the sweltering New York heat for a few moments. The drive from JFK to our head office in downtown Manhattan took longer than usual, thanks to a wreck on the highway, but at five after ten, I arrived. Penn, I learned from his assistant, had decided to stay in Europe at the last minute to take the opportunity to scope out a few potential restaurant sites, which was disappointing. I’d have liked a wingman before presenting the Joz deal, and a potential contract for Presley, to the board that afternoon.
After fueling myself on two cups of iced coffee, I called Sam into my office. She arrived with a manila folder tucked under one arm and a strawberry Frappuccino in the other.
I grinned. “You’re nothing if not predictable.”
“I know they’re like a bazillion calories, but life is for living.” She sat in the leather chair across from my desk and took a big slurp. “If my hips end up made of nothing but caramel donuts and Frappuccinos, it’s not the worst thing that could happen.”
“True.” I jerked my chin at the folder.
Surprisingly for a woman in her mid-twenties, Sam was old school. She liked to print out her research rather than, as she called it, waste time putting together a presentation no one would read.
“Hit me with it.” She opened the folder. Inside was a single sheet of paper. I frowned. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“No red flags?”
“I mean, he’s not squeaky, but nothing we wouldn’t find in most bios of young guys. Born in South-East London to working-class parents. Mom is a cleaner. Dad’s a truck driver. Presley is their eldest child. They have a second son who’s sixteen. A couple years ago, Presley was arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct. Spent the night at the police station. Bailed the nextmorning with a slap on the wrist. Been with his band for two years but had no luck breaking out.”
“That’s because his band is shit.”
“There’s my hard-nosed, ball-busting boss.”
