When Madden texted to ask—no, demanded, since I don’t think the Kings know how to politely request anything from anyone—me to come down to The Mill for a drink, I should have said no. In fact, I had typed out a polite but firm “no thank you,” but before I could send it, an email hit my inbox, with “URGENT” in the subject line and Jefferson’s name in the sender box.
Ignore it, I told myself.Ignore it. It’s a Friday. If it wereactuallyurgent, he would call. Willa is here, and if there were an issue with Atlas Oaks, Harper, or any of your other clients, they’d reach out to you personally.None of his clients likes dealing with Jefferson, either.
But I couldn’t resist, being a glutton for punishment and a workaholic, desperately trying to recover and failing miserably.
Hey Leo?—
Jackie just informed me Willa has found a place to stay in Holly Ridge, where she’ll be working on her next album. She has requested that Jackie allow her stay there without anyonemanaging her. Since you are currently residing in Holly Ridge for the foreseeable future, I expect you to do your job and ensure that Ms. Stone stays out of trouble. Any shortcomings on that will be discussed at your next performance report. She has created an image of herself, and to ensure a successful campaign with Chris Scout, we need to maintain that image.
—Jefferson
I read between the lines the way I always have to with him. Despite being a jackass, he’s a smart businessman with far too many high-powered lawyers in his pocket, and he knows not to put his threats on paper.
Keep Willa in line, or somehow, someway, I’m going to make your life an even bigger hellscape than it already is.
In that moment, I remind myself of my exit strategy and that I won’t have to deal with him forever. I have less than two years with Perfect Image before my contract ends, when the ironclad non-compete I signed expires in full. After that, I’ll be able to leave with my client list and start my own firm.
It’s why, despite his not approving of many of the decisions I make formyclients, Jefferson won’t fire me. If he were to do so without merit, which I’m careful never to give him, that clause would be null and void, and I’d be able to take whichever clients with me I wish, including Atlas Oaks, Stella Greene, Harper Holden, and a line of the other high-profile clients the firm boasts. While Jefferson and the other publicists represent many other stars, none hold the power that my clients do.
Unfortunately, Jefferson is more than aware of my plan, which is why, when he showed up at my meeting with Willa, irritation flooded me. I don’t know where Willa will stand when I leave the firm, but it’s clear Jefferson is trying to ingratiate himself with her manager. For the next two years, he’ll be doingeverything in his power to pull Jackie to his side by the end of my contract, so as not to lose Willa.
Apparently, that includes getting me to keep an eye on her client.
It’s not even that I’m annoyed he’s asking me to be a glorified babysitter. It’s nothing I haven’t done in the past for other clients—hell, there was a time when I was the only thing stopping Atlas Oaks from having a complete media crash out.
The truth is, if he’d asked me a year ago, I’d have been fine. If he’d asked me six months ago, I would have been fine.
Then. Willa was in a professional box that I could not even approach, with nothing but business between us, the way I had carefully crafted it over the last few years.
But now she’s in the same town as me.
Now, we’re somehow sharing friends.
Now, she seems to have found the backbone she’s been missing and is showing it off with me in a way I find myself liking far too much.
Now, I know what she looks like when she’s in shock, know what she feels like when I have her in my arms.
Fuck.
As I stared at the email, I attempted to regulate my breathing, taking the deep, measured breaths my therapist recommended, counting to ten with each one, when my phonebingswith another text. That dread curled in on itself, anticipating a follow-up text from my boss.
But it wasn’t from Jefferson or Jackie or anyone work-related.
Madden
Hallie insists.
Two words that held a subtle yet effective threat: Hallie insisted I come, and if I said no, I could expect some form of backlash. With a sigh and deciding I could use some time out of my house, without overthinking it, I replied with a one-word text.
When?
I would go to The Mill for exactly one drink. One beer, less than an hour, then head home. It would be a double-duty task, getting Madden and Hallie off my ass for not hanging out with them, and it would give me time to avoid replying to Jefferson’s email the way I really fucking wanted to: with a boldedfuck off.
Now!
With a sigh, I closed my laptop and quickly changed out of my paint and sawdust-speckled clothes, slipping into a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, sliding on some shoes, and grabbing my keys before making my way down my long drive.
My plan goes up in beautiful, searing flames the moment I step inside the bar and scan the room to see Willa Stone sitting at a table between Nat and Madden, a drink in her hand and a wide grin on her lips.
