Sabrina went straight home instead of back to the office as she'd originally intended. She always worked late, always came in early. How else had she become the youngest rep in the entire A&R department at twenty-six? She worked constantly, to the detriment of her social life.

Tonight though, she wanted nothing more than to be alone and away from the cutthroat vibe at the label.

Nick Falcon had really thrown her for a loop.

She thought of those roller coasterrides that went in a full vertical circle, leaving people hanging upside down for a few seconds at a time. She'd always thought they were ridiculous, watching other people ride during a class trip her senior year of high school.

Sabrina had stood on the sidelines as her more reckless classmates had spun through the air, screaming their heads off. Loop de loop de loop. Her stomach had clenched nervously just thinking about strapping herself into the seats.

So she'd wisely stayed on the grounds with the teachers, feeling sick as she watched the ride reverse itself and go barreling backwards through the same plummeting spirals and enormous circles.

She felt like that now, totally thrown off balance by her meeting that afternoon. Woozy. Sabrina never let anything throw her. Why now?

Nick Falcon had thrown her for a triple reverse loop with a twist.

That’s why she was wrapped up in a blanket and eating ice cream, mnidlessly channel surfing for something to watch. She paused on Bravo, watching mindlessly as three blond women bickered about their dogs.

She had to admit, she kinda loved reality TV.

But that was fake and this was real life. She was screwed. She had no idea how to recover her equilibrium and do her job.

What was she supposed to do?

If he wouldn't do the PR appearances she'd be forced to trim the fat off his concert tour. Maybe even book him into smaller venues.

And he wasn't going to like that.

She had no desire to go toe-to-toe with a perennially drunk rock star with bedroom eyes. Really nice eyes, even if they appeared to be permanently bloodshot. Especially not one the label wanted to keep happy. His last few records had charted, but it was his early stuff that kept raking in the big bucks.

Movie soundtrack requests came in at a steady clip, as well as new artists wanting to cover his greatest hits. Of course, Nick almost always said no to selling the rights for anything but A-List projects. He’d even gotten a few cameos in the films he allowed to use his music. The studios ate it up, and so did the public.

Even if he was pretty much playing himself in nearly every film. He was charming, with his thick East London accent, and far too good looking for her peace of mind. Plus, he always had a model or twelve on his arm.

The man rivaled Hugh Hefner for goodness sake!

Everybody loved Nick.

Everyone except her.

And she had a pretty good idea that the feeling was mutual.

She sighed. She knew she had to put together a proposed an alternate plan. She had to stay on track. She could show it to her boss in the morning.

No, that would feel too much like tattling. She wasn’t a rat.

She'd simply send a copy over to Mr. Falcon's estate and call Marley to let him know. She'd let him be the one to convince Mr. Falcon that it was in his best interest to let her do her job.

She wouldn't tell anyone about his other offer. She cringed at the thought of anyone finding out about that. No one would take her seriously again if they knew she'd just been treated like a stripper.

Or worse yet, a groupie. At least strippers were working. Doing a job. But Sabrina was doing neither. There was no way she was going to continue to let him make her feel like this.

Useless.

She made a list of smaller concert venues, most of them iconic music houses with a long and storied history. She made a separate list of contacts at those venues. She would call in the morning. She was sure she'd be able to get him into most of them, even with the late notice. After all, sliding sales or not, Nick was one of the biggest music names in the business. Never mind that she secretly thought he would be better off doing one night concerts in big cities several times a year. Touring was a big money maker for the label and the artist, but the crowds just weren't there anymore. Better to make the fans wait and pile them into a sport stadium to worship.

And pay through the nose of course.

It wasn't the sort of strategy one proposed so early in your tenure though. Eventually she would bring it up. That's if she still had a job after this fiasco.

It was almost nine PM when she stepped away from her laptop. She pulled on her running shoes and did a preliminary stretch. She’d run varsity track in high school, it being one of the few extracurricular activities her parents approved of.

As long as she won, anyway.

She opened the door to find a delivery boy blocking her path. He held an enormous bouquet of red roses in one arm. It looked like about fifty long-stemmed roses. No… a hundred. At least.

"Sabrina Newton?"

"Yes?"

"These are for you. Sign here, please."

He held out a slip of paper and a pen. She scratched her name on it.

"Hold on, let me get you a tip."

"It's been taken care of. Good night."

She accepted the heavy roses and carried them back into the house, using her foot to shut the door behind her. She set the heavy crystal vase down on the dining room table. She stared at them perplexed for a moment before plucking the card from the wrapper.

She read the card and a genuine belly laugh burst out of her. It was part shock, part horror and part grudging admiration.

The roses were from Nick Falcon.

But the card was for her predecessor.

'Condolences Wendell. You will be missed.'

Whether it was a mistake or not, it certainly got the point across. If she didn't keep the rock star happy, she'd be dead in the water. She turned up the volume on her iPod and ran into the hot LA night.