Amina

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How fucking dare he?

Stomping around upstairs, I threw back the balcony doors that belonged to my bedroom. Bach Devine, you might just be the most condescending man I've ever met.

Honestly, how could he call me a product? How could he call anyone a product? I was still fuming, especially as I remembered how confidently he'd told me everything.

The man had stood there with his perfect teeth and his even more perfect body, lecturing me about needing a makeover. Who did he think he was?

I know who he is, I told myself grimly. Propping my forearms on the white railing, I stared out into the brilliant green backyard. He's the guy who's rich enough to afford a place like this.

But so what? Did he think money meant he could treat people like they were property? It was disgusting. He was disgusting.

And I was planning to work for him.

Groaning, I covered my face. I told him to fuck off. Korine would have died on the spot if she'd seen. Or maybe she'd have applauded. Thinking about her made me understand why Bach’s comments had upset me so much. Murdoch had told me numerous times that I needed to dress a certain way or do my hair in the style he liked.

Was it my curse that I kept running into assholes?

I stood there for a long while, just listening to the birds and the gentle wind that ran through the fluffy green bushes. Citrus scented air tickled my nose. I was doing more than just calming down. I was avoiding the situation. Bach was waiting for me to sign the contract that would make me an official member of his music company. I’d woken up in a situation people would kill for. I should be rushing downstairs, pen in hand.

Except now I was having doubts.

I had to remind myself that he was my answer to a successful future. Especially after... No. I wouldn't think about that. One failure didn't determine a pattern.

Pushing off the railing, I headed back inside. There was no point in avoiding Bach. If I wanted to leave the city, I'd still have to confront him. And I didn't want to leave. I wanted to sing. For that, I could put up with one more jerk.

I made it into the main foyer before I saw another living person. "Hey! Good, you're here," Violet shouted, catching me off guard. As beautiful as the mansion was, I seriously felt like I was exploring a very clean haunted house.

"Hey," I said, crossing to meet her by the French doors. "I was about to look for Bach."

"He left for work ten minutes ago." Glancing at her phone, she hooked her arm around my shoulders to guide me out into the sun. "We need to get over there. He's got about a half hour of free time where we can get this damn contract out of the way and begin more exciting things."

Shielding my eyes from the light, I followed her to the dazzling blue car she'd driven us in yesterday. "He's that busy, huh?" This morning he seemed to have plenty of time to lounge around in his underwear. The memory didn't bring up as much distaste as I expected. Instead, I shivered as I remembered Bach's lips pressing softly to the edge of his glass of OJ.

Violet released me, climbing inside the car. "Bach is trying to balance a lot of stuff right now," she said. "He's doing his best, but..." Trailing off, she eyeballed me as I buckled myself into the passenger seat. "Forget it. Let's just not make it harder for him, is all I'm saying."

How hard could he really have it? I wondered. The car vibrated as Violet drove us through the automatic iron gates. Maybe it was because I'd experienced the opposite side of this flashy lifestyle, but I was struggling to find sympathy for a man who owned a billion-dollar empire.

How did that saying go? First world problems?

Don't be a dick, I told myself. He probably does have stuff to worry about. The article Korine had shown me, about Bach's father dying, made me sympathize with him. I knew too well what it was like to lose your family.

Clutching my knees, I looked out the window and forced myself not to get emotional. When I'd heard the news that Laurence Devine had passed on, it had cut me raw. The number of times I'd played that man's music over and over was impossible to count. It had helped me through so many tough times.

What was funny was that, as well as I'd know the guy's music, I'd known nothing about the man himself. I'd been especially shocked to learn he had a son close to my age.

His face when I sang Whispers... Bach had looked like I'd stabbed him in the gut. Had it been a bad idea? I'd just gone with something that meant a lot to me, that I knew I could perform well, and that I'd hoped would land me brownie points with Laurence's son.

Bach hadn't mentioned the performance since it had happened. I guess it wasn't as big a deal as it felt like. But, it had been enough to cement that he wanted to sign me. I kept that firmly in my heart as we pulled into the parking structure of his building.

"Hurry," Violet said, scurrying out of the car on her pointed heels. She kept checking her phone frantically. "We've got sixteen minutes."

"You're counting down to the literal minute? Isn't that a bit much?"

She didn't slow down, but she did glance at me with a withering look. "This place barely runs as is. Every minute counts between now and the—" she caught herself.

Realizing the problem, I waved a hand. "Bach told me this morning about the awards. It's not a secret, if it was supposed to be."

Violet stepped into an elevator in the lot, ushering me in as she poked the buttons. "Well, good. You should know everything. It'll be easier to make things happen if you do."

That reminded me of Bach's threat. "Can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?" She was back on her phone.

"Do you think I need a makeover?"

Her red hair bounced with how fast she turned towards me. "What? Why would you ask that, do you want one?"

"No—I don't think I do. I guess I don't know." I wasn't used to feeling so unsure. "Bach mentioned that I needed one to become... a product he could sell."

Rolling her eyes, she laughed briefly. "That guy, he doesn't soften his words at all." Shouldering her purse, Violet stalked from the elevator with me close behind her. "This is a cruel industry. Everyone we need on our side has high expectations. Calling you a product isn't very nice, but..."

"But he's not wrong," I mumbled bitterly.

She paused outside of a glass-walled room. I could see inside; it looked like a secretary's lobby. "Amina, if you aren't strong, this industry will break you. It damages all of us a little bit. Not everyone can hold themselves together and make it out alive."

Her words called back a memory I was desperate to forget. "I'm not going to fall apart," I said firmly. "If you guys think I need to dye my hair green and put on leather pants, I'll suck it up." Violet was watching me with the same attention to detail she reserved for her phone. "But I won't let anyone call me a product. Because I'm not."

When she smiled, it lit her face up. "I think I like you."

I blushed all the way to my scalp. "Thanks."

"Try to keep that certainty about who you are. It's rare out here." With that, she shoved into the room. "Farrah," she snapped. "Is Bach ready for us?"

The blonde woman behind the desk flapped her giant lashes. "He's been ready for a while. He buzzed me like a hundred times, asking where you were."

Violet didn't look worried, but my stomach did a small flip. Imagining Bach on edge wasn't fun. The VP said nothing, she just pushed through the giant mahogany door and into a sun-bright room. I was sure she wanted me to follow, so I did. Inside there was a long table.

Sitting at the end, like a king, was Bach Devine.

The last time I'd seen him, he'd been wearing nothing but some apple-red briefs—and yes, I did recall the exact shade. I even remembered how deliciously they'd clung to his muscular legs and ass.

Dressed in a crisp black jacket, rich slate tie, and a white button-down capped by cuff-links on his wrists, he was much more serious. But no less sexy. Especially when I thought about all the gorgeous ink coating his carved muscles beneath all that tailored cloth.

Jesus, did I love a man with tattoos.

Get a grip, you promised yourself, no more bad boys! Besides, this guy isn't just out of your league— he's on a whole other planet! Bach Devine was rich and successful and everything I was not. I planned to work hard so I could achieve some semblance of success, but he'd been born into this life.

His confidence dripped off of him. It slid down his slow smile, his tongue catching the final drops so that his voice retained that velvety cockiness. "Glad you both could make it."

Violet sat down across from him, slapping her purse onto the table. From the depths of it, she removed a heavy stack of papers. "Sit," she said, waving at me.

Realizing I'd been hovering like a moron at the end of the room, I rushed to settle into a chair. Before I could take the one beside Violet, Bach pulled out the seat right next to him. Wordlessly, he patted the cushion.

Bach was tipping me into a cyclone of confusing emotions. When I sat carefully in the chair, I swear, the leftover heat of his hand swam right up my thighs. "Is it hot in here?" I asked, laughing nervously.

Both of them stared at me. "Uh, I can crank the AC," Violet said. She started to stand; I flapped a hand at her to say never mind. Squinting dubiously, she fanned out the paperwork in front of me and Bach. "Right. Amina, let me walk you through all of this."

She began turning the papers, gliding her finger over the printed words. I nodded along, as if I was really following. It occurred to me that I should have brought a lawyer.

And where would I even find one? How would I PAY them? It was a useless hindsight.

Bach pierced me with his stare. "Are you following?" he asked.

"Yeah. Completely." I meant to lean closer and read the paragraph Violet was tapping. Simultaneously, Bach bent in the same direction. Our heads clonked together. I grabbed my forehead, wincing in pain and humiliation. "Sorry!"

"It's fine," he said, briefly rubbing where we'd bumped. Eyeing me, Bach smiled with one side of his mouth. "Probably not the last time we'll bang our heads together."

Violet groaned at his joke. "Focus you two, please."

Except I couldn't. I wanted to—this was fucking important—but Bach had jostled me around inside. My brain was rocketing around from our impact. More than that, I was hyper-aware of his every tiny breath.

When Violet flipped to the last page of the mountain-stack, handing me a pen, I froze. Were we already at the end? Had I zoned out that bad?

"Well?" she asked, wiggling the pen side to side. "Does it sound like a good deal?"

Licking my lips, I reached for the contract. "Let me just... do another quick scan of it."

Bach's hand rested on my wrist, freezing me. "Here. I'll break it down for you." His voice was silky, it invaded my ears until I heard nothing but him. "I'm going to make you famous, Amina. A star."

A star. My heart jumped.

"In exchange," he said, and I swear, he stroked my wrist. "You're agreeing to let us use your music—your image—in any way we see fit. You'll have long, hard days where we work closely together. You might even hate me by the end of it. But it'll all be worth it. Every bit of struggle will be worth it."

Is he talking to me... or himself? Gently, I pulled my hand from his and picked up the pen. It was heavy in my fingers.

This is what I want.

What I always wanted.

And now...

I can finally have it.

My past failures couldn't haunt me if I proved them untrue.

One by one, I looked between them both. Violet was waiting with her lips in a knotted scrunch. Bach was hiding his hands in his lap, but his shoulders looked stiff. With deliberate movements, I clicked the pen, exposing the tip.

I’d never signed my name so quickly before.