A smile grows on my lips as I lead Bryce and Zoe through the glossy reception area of Sunny Records. The hallway leading to the conference room is lined with the faces of world-famous pop stars, old and new. A shot of a rapper currently in the top ten is next to an album cover of my guiltiest pleasure (hint, his name starts with “J” and ends with “lake”), all followed by a slew of rock gods who have been around longer than I’ve been alive.

I’m in the presence of pop royalty.

I try to not let this get to me, but when we pass a poster of the queen of pop with her iconic tasseled bra, I find my legs turning to jelly.

Bryce’s hand is there to steady me when the toe of my Frye booties catches the plush carpet. His firm grasp on my arm steadies my fraying nerves. He leans in slightly as we follow the receptionist around a corner.

“You’ve got this, Hartman.”

My tight smile relaxes as his hand glides down my arm to rest in my hand, and when his fingers lace with mine, I remember that I am ready for this.

I’m prepared. I’m poised. I’m Autumn frickin’ Hart. Sunny Records isn’t going to know what hit them.

I squeeze Bryce’s hand as we turn another corner to find the conference room before us. Its floor-to-ceiling glass walls reveal the same sleek white table that Cody and I sat at when we met with Rhonda.

Only now, in addition to the impeccably dressed record executive, two more designer-suited men were seated next to her.

Oh Lordy.

A quick look at the two people by my side slows my racing heart. There’s nothing to be afraid of. They may have brought in two more corporate goons, but I brought my A-team.

The receptionist reaches for the door, but Bryce is quicker. With incredible grace, he glides in front of me and grasps the shiny metal handle. “After you, Ms. Hart… Ms. Gomez.”

All three suits waiting for me swivel around as I glide into the room.

“Good morning,” I say confidently. The two men jump up as I move toward the empty side of the long, narrow table. The shorter, plumper one gets to me first.

“Ms. Hart,” he gushes, “what a—” His eyes land on the Thor look-alike looming behind me. W-who’s this?”

I step to the side and lay a hand on Bryce’s arm, pride sweeping through me. “This is my head of security, and to your right is my new manager, Zoe Gomez. Cody Jensen and I have gone our separate ways.” I pause. “Professionally and personally.”

“Ah.” The poor man blanches a little under his navy-blue suit as he cranes his neck back to smile at Bryce. “Well, I’m Chad Thomson, legal representative for Sunny.”

I’ve barely taken his hand when the other executive sidles up next to us. “And I’m Perry Smith, head of production.”

I draw back my hand before looking over their shoulders at the woman sitting on the other side of the conference table. “Rhonda.”

She dons a wide smile as her colleagues make their way around the table to take their seats. “Ms. Hart! May I congratulate you on your knockout tour. It’s going to be one for the history books, I dare say.”

“I sure hope so.” I reach for my chair and find that it’s already two feet from the table. Bryce is standing behind it, hands on either side of the white leather, waiting for me to take my seat. He’s already taken care of Zoe, who’s literally sitting on the edge of her seat.

“Thank you,” I murmur as I lower into it. The mere proximity of his tall, strong frame at my back sends a wave of longing through me, heightened to epic proportions when his fingers graze the bare skin of the back of my neck as he steps back.

I look across the table to find three pairs of eyes fixed on my face. “Shall we begin?”

Rhonda gives me a tight smile. “Of course. This is the last day of your tour, yes? You must be busy. And I love that you chose Nashville as your finale. So fitting!”

I nod. “It’s bittersweet, though. I don’t know what I’ll do with myself now that it’s over.”

Rhonda’s smile widens. “We have some ideas.”

Perry leans forward in his seat. “I understand that Rhonda went over our proposal with your previous manager?”

“Correct. However, Ms. Gomez is up to date despite our breakneck touring schedule.”

Perry gives Zoe a sympathetic nod that I’m sure he’s practiced in the mirror. “Then I assume you’ve perused our contract?”

Zoe’s hands twist in her lap as she nods. “I have.”

Perry waits for her to go on. She doesn’t.

“Any questions?” he asks. “I realize this is a hectic day for all of you, but I feel I must remind you that we’ve applied a firm deadline to our offer.”

“We understand,” Zoe says.

The three suits exchange glances when it’s clear she’s not going to continue.

Chad turns to me. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hart, but after today, that proposal is no longer valid.” His cheeks jiggle slightly as he gives his colleague a furtive glance. “I hope Rhonda made that clear.”

“Perfectly clear,” I answer calmly, giving Zoe a bit more time to find her voice. This is her first record label meeting and Sunny is a huge beast to take on. “And I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your deal, as generous and unique as is it.”

Each person sitting across from me has a different reaction. Perry sputters, Chad’s eyebrows shoot up as he sits back, and Rhonda does nothing. Nothing at all. I direct my next comment to her.

“Thank you for the opportunity. I am so grateful for your consideration.” Her once warm eyes narrow slightly when I fall silent.

“May I hear the reason for your easy dismissal of our offer?” she asks, her sharp jaw moving back and forth as her eyes try to turn me into an iceberg.

“Please know that it wasn’t easy. I know I was asking for a lot when I requested six weeks to make a decision, but I needed every single hour of it.” The hostility brewing across the table almost sends me running for the elevator, but then a low cough behind me draws my attention.

Bryce.

One eyebrow raises slightly as my eyes meet his. You can do this, Hartman.

I flash him a smile. You bet your ass I can.

When I turn back around and meet three sets of glaring eyes, I barely blink. “I know your time is precious, so I won’t waste any more of it. You asked for a reason why I’m refusing your offer? First and foremost, the moment I sign on that dotted line, I’d be giving up my artistic and creative licenses.”

Rhonda’s lips grow tight. “If you remember, I said you would have an opportunity to write your own songs after this first album.”

“I remember—”

“And that’s unacceptable,” Zoe finishes for me. She meets Rhonda’s glare head-on. “My client is known for her lyrical genius.”

Lyrical genius? I could get used to that.

“She has asked you to bend your ridiculous rule for her, and you have refused.” Zoe leans back and folds her hands over her lap. “So we refuse you.”

“We only want your launch to go as smoothly as possible,” Rhonda says, motioning to the gallery we passed in the hallway. “Sunny has a long history of creating pop sensations. Put your trust in us, and we’ll do the rest.”

“And therein lies the problem,” Zoe says before I can, reading my mind. “My client doesn’t want to give up production. She likes production. The heavy lifting, the long nights, the creative control…trying something that may seem crazy just to see if it works.”

“If I may,” Perry begins, “from a PR and marketing point of view, that’s not very wise.”

Zoe laughs. “I never said my client wasn’t a risk-taker. She totally is, and maybe a little crazy, but it doesn’t matter. She’s gutsy and people dig it.”

“Dig it?” Perry doesn’t know what to make of my purple-haired ass-kicker. “But we know what the public wants, and we give it to them. Over and over.”

Zoe shrugs. “Sounds stale.”

“It sounds familiar,” Perry argues back, “and people like familiar.”

“Well, maybe it’s time that changed,” I interject. It’s time to cut to the chase. “I suppose this is the time to tell you that I will also be leaving my current label.”

Everyone in the room goes stock still. After a few agonizingly long moments, Rhonda stirs. “Has another company made you a better offer?” she asks with a nervous edge to her voice.

Chad’s hands smack the tabletop. “We’ll match anything they’ve proposed. No, wait, we’ll add five percent!”

“And we’ll let you contribute to our production meetings,” Perry adds, nodding along with his colleagues. “Let you mold the songs to your taste.”

I hold up a hand before the conversation gets away from me or until they sweeten the deal so much that I can’t say no. “Thank you for your offers, but my answer is still no. The truth is, I’m not signing with another record label. I’m creating my own.”

Rhonda blanches under her tan. “You’re what?”

“It will be a small indie label that supports up-and-coming artists. It will specialize in country, but any genre is welcome.”

Perry sits up an inch taller, disdain and disbelief oozing from his heather-gray designer suit. “That’s an incredibly risky career move.”

Zoe pipes up. “And so is giving away artistic freedom for a bunch of zeros and a manufactured product. Ms. Hart’s label will give artists a platform to express themselves regardless of whether or not it ‘fits’ with what’s already out there.”

Rhonda clears her throat when Zoe pauses for a breath. “But industry standards dictate what sells.”

“Then screw industry standards,” I say. “You may think people want the same sound year after year, but I disagree. Elvis, The Beatles, Madonna. These were revolutionaries that the industry followed, not created.”

Sensing that this meeting’s drawing to a swift and permanent close, I slide my chair back from the table. Bryce is by my side in an instant, his strength giving me the final burst of confidence that I need to drive my point home.

I meet each of their gazes before getting to my feet. Zoe’s already heading for the door.

“I think it’s time the music industry explored a bit more, and Hartbreak Records will be there for those who are brave enough to do that.”

Bryce’s hand finds mine as we cross the carpet, sheltering my shaking fingers as I walk away from the toughest decision of my career. When he leans over and whispers “My fearless girl” softly into my ear, I almost lose it right then and there.

Rhonda’s voice rings out as Bryce reaches out for the door. “It’s a tough business, Ms. Hart. Good luck.”

I turn back to the record label executive and smile. “Thank you, but I don’t need it.”