“First of all, George, I go by Lola, if you don’t mind.” She was named after the heroine from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. Kind of a lame name. Only Reina and Portia called her Viola. “And second, what do you mean Alexander wanted Braden to hire me? He told me Braden was looking for a band. That’s not true? He forced you to hire me?” she asked Braden.
The room grew so uncomfortably silent she thought she heard crickets chirping. “He didn’t force me, but he strongly suggested it,” Braden finally admitted.
Her ego deflated just a little bit. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. So, you don’t even like my music?”
“I didn’t say that. You have a beautiful voice. But the songs you choose and the crazy things you do to them? Not so much. You turned the National Anthem into a rap song.”
“Hey, everyone loved it!”
“It was entertaining, but it didn’t showcase your talent. You need to sing songs that connect with the listeners.”
What did he know about writing lyrics? She wanted that pen back so she could toss it at him again. Instead, she leaned across the desk until she was close enough to Braden that their faces were within kissing distance. Not that she was thinking about kissing him. Nope. “And I suppose you’re the one who can help me do that?”
“You bet your sweet ass I can.” His lips curved up in a half-snarl, half-cocky grin. She’d never noticed how plump his lips were, or how red. They appeared as though he’d rubbed strawberries on them.
She reactively licked her own lips. “Ah, you think I have a sweet ass? Yours is pretty bitable, too.” She growled and made a motion with her mouth like she’d bit him.
He didn’t speak, but stared at her mouth.
George coughed. “The conditions are set. Braden will write the lyrics and help you find acceptable music. If you don’t get offered a record deal, you will lose ownership of the property. Braden will lose his lease. And his restaurant. Not one governmental department will accept Braden’s applications for renewals. He’ll lose his business license.”
She gave Braden lots of grief, but it was all in good fun. He didn’t deserve to lose his business because of her. She’d make it right for him.
She plopped back in her chair. “I don’t get it. No offense, but what’s so special about Braden that Alexander believes I can inspire him to write lyrics?”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m the most ordinary man in the world,” Braden said. “We’ll do it because you can’t fail. I need my restaurant and I will not lose the one thing that I’ve worked so hard to build. In thirty days, you’ll sing the best damned songs that record producer has ever heard. You’ll get a record deal. You’ll pass the tests. And I’ll get my restaurant.”
His cocky attitude grated on her. Yeah, she’d pass, but because she wanted to, not because he made her. No one made her do anything she didn’t want to do. Time to ruffle a few of his finely pressed feathers. “Aren’t you a billionaire? What do you care if you lose a restaurant? You don’t have to lift a finger and you can have everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
Keeping his dark gaze trained on her, Braden leaned back and crossed his ankle over his muscular thigh. “What I dream of is this restaurant. Nothing else matters.” His arms spread wide. “This is mine. I built it.” He paused then dropped his arms. His voice lowered until he almost whispered, “And I’m not going to watch it crumble because of your failure. It. Will. Not. Happen.” He stood and his mask fell back into place. He straightened his coat jacket and smoothed the wrinkles on the arms. His voice returned to normal volume as he said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, we have an engagement party to wrap up. And, Lola?”
She swallowed the lump which had grown larger as Braden’s voice had grown quieter. “Yes?”
“I’ll see you here at eight in the morning.” He walked past her and George to open the door, but he paused in the doorframe. “Or you’ll discover a part of me best laid buried. Have a good night.” He turned around and strode out before she could argue.
CHAPTER 3
There is no woman’s sides
can bide the beating of so strong a passion
as love doth give my heart. No woman’s heart
so big, to hold so much.
William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, act 2, scene 4
The next morning, Braden awoke with Lola’s name on his lips and an aching hard-on. It was bad enough he had to spend almost every night with her at work, but now she’d invaded his dreams as a siren who lured him to his death.