CHAPTER EIGHT: Cain

“So…” Drew said, strolling into my office with his hands spread and eyebrows arched. “How was Katie Berry? Was she list-worthy?”

I had been sitting behind my desk with the chair turned toward the wall of windows, meditating as I looked out over the city far below. I swiveled to face him and made a sour face.

“You know, she was not great,” I said, shaking my head.

Drew huffed. “Really? But she’s so fucking hot.”

“Hot onstage, but cold as a fish in the sack,” I said sadly. “She just laid there, like a vegetable. It was kind of…boring.”

“Wow. Who knew?”

“Not me,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “Oh well, at least I can mark her off the list and make room for someone else.”

“Someone like Olivia Poole,” he said with a grin as he plopped down in the chair on the other side of my desk. “I gave her your card. She’s coming in at two to meet with A&R.”

“I think I’ll meet with her instead of those idiots,” I said. I leaned back with my hands behind my head and gave him a smile. “What did she say when you asked her to come in?”

He pooched out his lips in thought. “Well, let’s see, she didn’t know what the fuck A&R was. She thought it was some form of S&M. She said if you were asking her to come in just to bang her, you could forget it.”

I blinked at him. “She said that? Why would she think I was asking her here so I could bang her?”

“Your reputation precedes you, my lord,” he said with a grin. He crossed his long legs and drummed his manicured fingers on his knee. “Is that why you want her to come in? I mean, by your rules she is not famous enough to be on your list. And you don’t seriously give a woman the time of day if she’s not on your list.”

I began to slowly rock as I pondered his question. Why did I want her to come in?

Was it because I liked the song she’d written about me? Not especially.

Was it because I liked her singing and thought there might be something there worth developing? Yes, possibly.

Or was it because I was mesmerized by her angelic face and smoking hot body and was thinking about adding a “might someday be famous” category to the list?

Again, nothing was set in stone.

I’d created the goddamn list.

I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to with it.

It was a little odd that I had never been tempted to bend my rules before, but one must be fluid in this age of bountiful pussy.

Before I could figure out a way to avoid Drew’s question, the intercom on my desk buzzed. “Mr. Bohannon, Olivia Poole is here.”

“Right on time,” Drew said, checking his Apple watch. “Do you want me to hang around?”

“No. I got this,” I said. I got to my feet and pulled the black Armani jacket from the back of my chair and slid into it. I adjusted my lapels and nodded at the door. “Show her in, and then fuck off.”

“Yes, my lord,” he said, flipping me the bird as he opened the door to usher Olivia in. She was wearing a pair of tight black skinny jeans, high-heeled knee-high boots, and a white T-shirt under a black leather jacket. Her blond hair was in a tight ponytail at the crown of her head. She was wearing just enough makeup to enhance her features rather than hide them. She looked fucking hot as hell.

I came around the desk to greet her as she walked through the door. When our hands touched, it was like the air in the office filled with electricity. A trace of ozone wafted between us. I could feel it in my bones. And I could tell by the look in her eyes that she could, too.

“Liv, nice to see you. Thanks for coming in,” I said, guiding her to the sofa that sat in one corner of the office. She gave me a nervous smile as she sat down. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

I sat in the chair across from her and rubbed my hands together. “So, first off, I loved your set. Great stuff. You really had the crowd rocking. Can I ask what inspired you to write that song?”

She gave me a terrified look, like a deer that found itself suddenly in a hunter’s sights. Her pretty lips quivered for a moment, and then she said, “Um, well, I just thought of the title, and…um…”

I gave her a warm smile to calm her down. “It’s fine, Liv,” I said. “I’m well aware of the mysterious fuck list the press accuses me of keeping. I thought it was very clever of you to play off those rumors, no pun intended.”

“So there is no fuck list?” She asked the question and then closed her eyes, immediately regretting it. Her eyes popped open and her lips quivered again. “I mean, um…shit…”

I chuckled and slapped my palms on my knees. “No, there is no fuck list,” I said, shaking my head at such a ludicrous idea. “Anyway, the reason I wanted you to come in was to get to know you a little better and find out what you hope to do with your career.”

“My career?” She licked her lips and gave me a blank look. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it that far in advance. I just want to sing.”

“Okay, well let’s brainstorm a little,” I said, putting on my serious mask. “Are you happy being a trio, or would you prefer to be a solo act?”

“Well, I guess, I mean—”

“Because I think you could be an amazing solo act,” I said, being honest now. “I mean, no offense to your bandmates, I’m sure they’re sweet girls, but it’s clear that you’re the driving force in the band. You write, you sing, you play. And you have a great voice; smoky, sexy, like Courtney Love in her prime or a young Janis Joplin.”

Her eyes grew wide as I spoke. She said, “Really?”

“Really, really,” I said, my head bobbing. “I think you have a raw talent that could be amazing, if you had the right mentor to guide you along.”

“Is that why I’m meeting with your—what is it—A&E guys?”

“A&R,” I said with a smile. “No. Fuck those guys. They’re idiots.”

She gave me a confused look. “Then I don’t understand—”

“I’m going to personally be your mentor, Olivia Poole,” I said, rubbing my hands together again. My mouth watered. I could taste her on my tongue. I stood up and held out my hand.

I said, “Come on. Let’s go cut a demo.”