Trevor sat at the head of the conference room table, a “cat that ate the canary grin” on his face.

“This is just like The Godfather,” he crowed, and when Taryn, Chase, and I blinked at him, his smile fell just a little. “You know, that scene where Michael Corleone says something like, ‘Today I take care of all family business’?”

I’d never seen the movie, but Chase obviously had, because he tipped forward and gave Trevor a serious look. “So which one of us is Fredo? I don’t want to be Fredo. Just sayin’.”

“Why don’t you want to be Fredo?” Taryn asked, her gaze volleying between her man and our attorney.

I was curious as well, but I wasn’t about to give these two idiots the satisfaction of knowing that, so I just rolled my eyes and smoothed a hand over my T-shirt.

“Fredo gets whacked by his brother,” Trevor explained, making a slashing motion across his throat. “And dumped in Lake Tahoe.” And then in what I thought might be an Italian accent, he added, “Fredo sleeps with the fishes.”

Taryn winced. “I don’t want to be Fredo either.”

“Fucking hell,” I said to Trevor, fed up. “I’m going to kill you myself if you don’t tell me why we’re all here.”

Chase muttered, “Obviously, she’s not Fredo.”

Trevor shook his head, widening his eyes as he picked up a folder. “Nope. She’s Sonny.”

I was hoping Sonny was some badass ninja chick, but that hope was dispelled when Chase looked over at me and said sympathetically, “Sonny was nuts. They whacked him at a toll booth. Sorry.”

Taryn stifled a grin, the guys laughed, and for the first time since I shagged ass out of Paris nearly two weeks ago, I felt my lips curve of their own accord. It was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. And then I wondered if Logan had ever seen The Godfather, and the ache was back, spreading through my limbs.

Baby steps.

When the laughter died down, I said in a somewhat more subdued tone, “This is fun and all. But I’m kind of busy, so why are we here?”

Taryn shot me a look. I hadn’t been to the office since I got back, so I’m sure she was wondering what I was busy with.

“First of all,” Trevor began, “what I’m about to tell you can’t leave this room.” Once we nodded our agreement, he pulled a document from the file in front of him, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger. “Have you ever heard of Sloane Ingram?”

“The reporter?” Taryn asked, sitting up straighter in her chair.

“Investigative reporter,” Trevor corrected. “She works for the Los Angeles Examiner. For the past year she’s been gathering information on Mac. We all know the guy is a sleaze. But this—” he shook the paper, “proves that he’s more than that.”

I reached for the document, but Trevor pulled it away. “No. I want your hands clean on this. Even I didn’t have a copy of it until this morning. It’s called deniability.”

“Aren’t people going to assume it’s us anyway?” Chase interjected. “We have the most to gain if this Sloane chick does a hatchet piece on Mac.”

Trevor laughed. “If this were a hatchet piece, I wouldn’t be about to feed it to the shredder.” He hissed air through his teeth. “This is going to get Mac indicted. He’s been strong-arming his artists for years. The men …” he sighed, shaking his head, “he just threatened them. But the female artists … Well, let’s just say the dude is a sick fuck who gets off on power.”

Easing back, I stretched my legs and folded my hands in my lap. “So what if Mac ends up disgraced? What’s that going to do for us?”

“Metro Music is a corporation,” Trevor explained. “Yeah, Mac started it and he owns a good portion. But he’s still beholden to the shareholders. And the board of directors makes the decisions. I’ve got an inside source who told me the board wasn’t too happy about taking on Tori Grayson.”

The muscles in my jaw tensed. I hated being referred to as a brand and not a person. “Why is that?” I asked, trying to keep my tone even.

“Because any suit against you is a loser,” Trevor explained. “Even if you settle, which you won’t, going after rock and roll’s princess isn’t good business.”

Princess …

I thought of all the times Logan called me that, and the ache in my chest swelled, doubling in size, taking on a life of its own.

“Anyway,” Trevor went on, looking a little dismayed by my lack of enthusiasm. “My source tells me that as soon as this hits the wire, Mac will be removed by the board, and the second in command will drop the frivolous suit against Twin Souls.” His smile widened, and two dimples appeared. “Probably even issue a public apology. That’s what happens in these kinds of situations. Mac is going to be thrown to the wolves. And if you knew what was in here,” he tossed the folder on the desk, his lip twitching in disgust, “you’d agree that it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”

Taryn blew out a breath. “I don’t know, Trevor. Mac’s been in some pretty tough situations. He isn’t going to go quietly.”

“Mac isn’t going to have a choice. He’s going to prison. For how long, I’m not sure. As far as the board dropping the claims against Twin Souls—that’s going to happen even if Mac cops a plea. I’ve seen the paperwork.”

Digesting the news, my momentary elation cratered when I thought of Logan. I hadn’t told anyone about his contract. It wasn’t my place. Instead, I’d been quietly waiting for an announcement. And if I called him now, how would I ever know if he stayed with Twin Souls because he wanted to, or because he was out of options. And could I even handle hearing his voice? I’d avoided it for two weeks, letting his calls go to voicemail and only replying by text that one time.

I’m fine. Please don’t call anymore. We’ll talk when you get back.

“Tori?”

I snapped my gaze to Trevor. “Yes, sorry.”

“That other thing we talked about? The concert?” His eyes drifted to Taryn and Chase, who were suddenly more interested in the patterns on the carpet. “I think it would be better if you put it off for a few months. The venue fee alone is two hundred and fifty thousand. Three weeks isn’t enough time to make sure you don’t lose money on this venture.”

This was Taryn talking. She’d just enlisted Trevor as a voice of reason. So I turned in my seat and spoke directly to her. “This isn’t about profit. I’m footing the bill for this on my own, so if we lose money it won’t affect Twin Souls.” I sighed. “I’m not going to strong-arm the talent, and I don’t want you too either. We’re better than that. If any band on the roster wants to participate, we’ll make it happen. The proceeds, if there are any, go to Rhenn and Paige’s endowment fund.”

Taryn bowed her head, nodding. “We don’t have to strong-arm anyone. This is going to be huge. I don’t want to disappoint you, Belle. That’s all.”

Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I held them in. I’d cried more in the last two weeks than I had in the last two years. And I was over it. Not over the cause—Logan. I might never be over him. “You won’t disappoint me.”

Trevor broke the silence when he said, “I’ll get the contracts drawn up. And Taryn can start working her magic.”

She winced, and I took her hand. “No pressure, T-Rex. This is about the music. Music is fun, remember? Music heals.” My gaze shifted to the window and the city I loved, and I smiled. “Music is everything.”

Two hours later, the Cessna landed at Huntsville Regional Airport. Trevor hadn’t spoken during the forty-minute flight, but as soon as we got into the waiting car, he turned to me.

“Have you ever visited someone in prison?”

Sweat broke out on my palms despite the air-conditioning. “No.”

“Do you have any questions?”

Picturing a guard taking me to a back room and performing a cavity search, I cringed. But it didn’t matter. I needed to do this. For Zoe.

“No.”

Mouth twisted to one side, he scrutinized me. “Okay. Take off the earrings. And the necklace. And you should be set.”

My hand shot to my Angel Caller. “Why?”

Since the day Logan put it on me, I’d never taken it off. It was stupid, but I liked to believe he could hear the chime. That it was our music. The music of us, and all that we’d shared. Because music went on and on. No beginning and no end.

“Because this is a prison,” Trevor said, voice firm and expression serious. “And when you step inside a prison you have to follow their rules. If they decide to confiscate something, they can. And if they decide to ship it back to you in pieces, they can do that too.”

With a nod, I undid the clasp.

Trevor cocked his head. “Is that a bell?”

Closing my fingers around the charm, I let the warmth flow through me. “No … it’s a song.”

The woman across the table looked me over, her lip curled into a sneer. There was no denying that she was Zoe’s kin. Same pale blond hair, pert nose, and big eyes. Only, there was no life in Courtney’s cornflower-blue orbs. They were dead, like the skin on my thigh. No feeling.

“Let’s get down to business,” Trevor said, trying to draw the woman’s attention.

It didn’t work. She just continued to assess me. “Didn’t ’spect you to come,” she said in an accent so thick it was hard to understand her. “Someone like you … I’da thunk you’d let your people handle the messy business.”

“Zoe’s my people,” I said blandly. “And why wouldn’t I come? After all, you sent me that nice letter.”

I stopped short of calling it what it was—a ransom note.

For months, my parents had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every day they expected a letter from child services with a demand to present my sister like she was dry cleaning that someone forgot to claim. But that day never came. If Courtney actually wanted to see my sister, she would’ve sent that letter. Instead she wrote to me. Because she wanted money. And since I had a shit ton, I didn’t mind paying her off. We just had to negotiate the going rate for a fourteen-year-old. Which was why Trevor was here. Left up to me, I’d give the woman a blank check.

Courtney sank back in the metal chair, chewing her lip. “Since you came all this way, it must be real important to you.”

Trevor’s knee hit mine under the table, and I could almost hear what he was thinking. I told you so. He’d warned me that my presence would likely up the stakes. Zero fucks. Because I didn’t care what it took. I was walking away from this table with a signed agreement.

“It is,” I conceded. “She’s my sister.”

I shifted to the right to avoid another collision with my attorney’s knee.

“Well…” Courtney drawled. “That’s real special. But it’s going to cost you.”

Trevor went to speak, but I cut him off.

“How much?”

She seemed to think about it, rubbing her chin with grubby fingers. “I’d say, ’bout fifty grand.”

Images of Zoe flashed through my mind. All her promise. All her potential. Her bright smile and her quick wit. And all this woman saw was fifty grand. Less, actually. Because I’m sure she thought I’d whittle her down.

“Done.”

Trevor cursed under his breath while Courtney blinked at me.

“We do have some terms,” my attorney said, exasperated. And I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or Courtney.

“What terms?” she asked, her focus on Trevor.

“Well, there is the matter of—”

“You sign away your parental rights today,” I interjected. “And you never contact me, my parents, or my sister again.”

Courtney cocked her head, gaze volleying between Trevor and me. “That’s it? What about that other thing? I had one of my friends explain it.”

Trevor sighed, tossing his pen on the table. “The nondisclosure?”

“We don’t need it,” I said.

She smiled then, like there had to be a catch. There wasn’t.

“So you don’t care if I tell people you bought my baby?”

I shrugged. “Zoe’s not a baby. And I have a whole publicity team that can spin this around and around so people know what really happened—that you waited for almost eleven years and then you sold her. I wouldn’t suggest you do it. But it’s up to you. I don’t have anything to hide.”

As distasteful as it was, this was probably the purest deal I’d made in a long time. There were no hidden agendas. Courtney wanted money. Not power. Or publicity. And I wanted Zoe to have a clean slate. To be her own person.

Courtney snatched the papers, signing them without so much as a glance. “When do I get my money?”

“We could put it on your books or have a check waiting when you get out,” Trevor replied as he stowed the documents in his briefcase. “Up to you.”

“Put it on my books,” Courtney said. “And don’t pull no fast ones. I know people.”

The threat was empty, but I let her have it.

When she got up to leave, a thought occurred to me. “There isn’t a father listed on Zoe’s birth certificate.”

I let the statement dangle. Not really a question, but I was curious.

For the first time, I detected something in Courtney’s eyes. A spark. “She don’t have no daddy.” Pulling her shoulders back, she lifted her chin. “He died ’afore she was born.”

A lump formed in my throat for this woman. Once, she had feelings. I could see them, like an echo. Or the light from a star that was long dead.

I nodded, snagging her gaze and holding. “I’m sorry.”