Tony’s voice broke the quiet from outside.“Vivian’s on board.We go live tomorrow at ten!”
Carlene exhaled.“One more fire handled.”
He studied her face.“You sure you’re okay?”
“I will be.”She grabbed her bag.“I need to get back to the hotel and pull a few more files before lunch.”
He moved toward the door before she could.“I’ll walk you out.”
“Not necessary.”
“Humor me.”
She sighed but didn’t argue.They walked side by side across the gravel drive.The morning sun caught her hair, turning it burnished gold at the edges.She looked tired, but there was a kind of grace in her exhaustion, something human and real.
At her car, she hesitated with the keys in her hand.“Thanks for not losing your cool in there.I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”
He gave a small smile.“I signed up for music.The rest just came with it.”
“You handled it well.”
“So did you.”
“Barely,” she said.
He wanted to tell her he saw through the mask, that he knew she was hurting, that he’d do anything to take some of it off her shoulders.Instead, he said, “Get some sleep tonight.”
“I’ll try.”
“Try harder.”
Her eyes softened for a heartbeat, and then she got in the car.“See you tomorrow.”
He stepped back as she drove away, watching the car disappear down the road until it was gone.
For a long time, he stood there, hands in his pockets, the sound of the ocean filling the space she’d left behind.
He knew she was strong enough to handle whatever came next.But knowing that didn’t stop the pull in his chest, the quiet ache that told him strength wasn’t what she needed most right now.
What she needed was someone who saw her, really saw her, when she wasn’t performing for the world.
And God help him, he wanted to be that person.
He turned back toward the barn.The others would be waiting, and there was work to do, but his mind stayed on her, the woman who’d walked into his life to fix his reputation and somehow made him want to rewrite every part of it instead.
ChapterEighteen
Carlene sat cross-legged on the bed with her laptop propped on a pillow, half a sandwich beside her, and a headache that wouldn’t quit.She’d told herself she would rest when the audit finished, but rest felt impossible.The hum of her computer was the only sound in the room.
Her inbox was a battlefield.Messages from the label, the legal team, Tony, and now a new one from an address she didn’t recognize.The subject line read:You don’t know the half of it.
Her pulse jumped.She hovered over it, debating.Opening anonymous emails was risky, but curiosity won.
Inside was a short message.They’re deleting the originals.Look at drive R_C-9825.If you want proof, move fast.
Attached was a screenshot of a file directory, a timestamp, and one word typed beneath it...Soon.
She sat back, heart thudding.Someone inside Reed & Carr was warning her.Or baiting her.
