Harper crossed her arms over her chest, glowering as I set down my briefcase.

“The Omni?” She looked around the luxury suite with disdain. “Really, Taryn … you couldn’t do any better than the Omni?”

When I’d discovered Harper in Biloxi, she was working as a backup singer in a shitty lounge. I’d seen the dilapidated trailer she’d shared with her mother and two siblings. And the threadbare clothes held together with safety pins. Yet now she postured like royalty, looking down her nose as she sat in one of the nicest hotels in Austin.

“Are you under the impression that you have some kind of control over this situation, Harper?” She opened her mouth, but I plowed right over her. “You don’t.”

Harper sat back, crossing her arms over her chest, but said nothing, so I continued. “Have you ever heard of a nuisance claim?” She shook her head. “Yeah … didn’t think so. I don’t have time to go over it in detail, but here’s the gist: sometimes it’s more expedient to make a deal than put in the man hours to clean up the mess. And that’s what you are … a mess.”

Fury lit her gaze as she latched onto the only word in my speech that bolstered her hope: deal.

Shifting her focus to the cheap laptop on the coffee table, she smiled. “Have you seen what I have?”

Reading people was my superpower, and detecting the hidden desperation in Harper’s tone, I tipped forward, smiling. “Have you? That tape of yours—it’s a gift. I should be thanking you. You’ve just guaranteed Dylan and Leveraged an insane amount of publicity. If I were just his manager, we wouldn’t be speaking.”

I waited a few beats for Harper to digest her reversal of fortune, then mused, “I’d have to do a little fancy footwork to explain how the tape came about. It would take a lot of interviews to make sure that every single rag in this country knew the details—how you recorded Dylan without his knowledge—then threatened to release the footage to get traction for your own album. But once that was done? He’d be the victim.” I sat back, drumming my fingers on the arm of the sofa. “Then, I’d really bury you. I’d make it my personal mission to ensure that you’d never get paid for singing another note.”

When I was certain that every last drop of blood had drained from Harper’s face, I let her off the hook.

“The payoff for most managers is well worth the nuisance,” I said, as I pulled the stack of papers from my briefcase. “But not for me. Dylan’s my friend. He might want to have a family someday, and I don’t want your little sexcapades hanging over his head. So, as much as it pains me, I’m willing to offer you a deal.” I tossed the thick stack onto the table. “A one-time only offer. But know this, if you don’t take me up on it, you’d better learn to like making money on your back. Because the only offers you’ll be fielding will have the words “threesome” and “girl on girl” attached. You won’t be complaining about a suite at the Omni, because the only room anyone will ever pay for again is the Motel 6 where they film your next porno.” I looked around. “I don’t think they have room service, but you might be able to convince your fluffer to run down to the gas station and pick you up one of those pre-made sandwiches.”

Harper gulped, cutting her gaze to the papers. My pulse returned to a somewhat normal beat when she snatched the stack from the table. “How do I know you’re not trying to trick me?”

“You don’t. But I can assure you the offer is legit. I’ll manage you, promote the first album, and negotiate a tour in exchange for an ironclad confidentiality agreement and the tape. Then we part ways. There’s no option to renew, but you’ll be able to pick up a new manager.”

Unable to contain her smile, Harper’s leg bobbed as she scanned the documents.

“Look at me, Harper.” Distracted, she met my gaze. “That agreement binds both of us. If anything leaks, anything, I’ll sue you. And my lawyers are better than any you’ll ever hire. All the money you make from the album?” I snapped my fingers. “Gone. Just like your reputation. So save yourself the trouble and tell me right now if anyone else has seen the footage.”

My stomach sank as she squirmed. “I showed the reporter from the Statesman,” she admitted. “But I have the only copy. Me and Dylan.”

I discretely let out the breath I’d been holding. “No one else?” She shook her head. “All right then, I’ll give you a couple of days to have an attorney look over the deal, if you can find one that doesn’t mind dealing in extortion.” Grabbing my briefcase, I shoved to my feet. “And another thing—you may be in my stable, but consider yourself off limits to my other clients. It’s in the paperwork. You don’t speak to Dylan or anyone else on the roster. Are we clear?”

Harper’s smirk turned my stomach. “Crystal.”

I strode to the door with bile rising in my throat. I’d made a lot of deals, but never one this distasteful.

Alone in the elevator, I toasted my new low as I tapped out a message for Dylan.

Mission Accomplished.

Once the text to Dylan was sent, I swiped my finger over the newest name on my contact list—Chase Noble.

I’d done a Google search this afternoon, and found out very little about the man. Despite owning a good chunk of the city, Chase had managed to keep himself out of the public eye. Which accounted for the look on his face when we met.

Something came up. I’m going to have to cancel. Maybe some other time.

My heart sank just a little when I pressed send. But it was for the best. The farther Chase stayed from me and my brand of chaos, the better.