Beyond the Masks (Beyond Love Series Book 1)

by Nicky F. Grant

  “It’s my job.”

  “Maybe so. But you possess a certain manner in the way you interact with musicians. Ryan wants a label to treat him like a person. Other labels contacted us, but your approach made us feel at ease. Like you saw the same vision. The others pushed like vultures, ready to chew him up and spit him out,” Don explained. “Ryan would like you to personally see him through this process including the album release.”

  She peered at Gavin, amazed to learn there might be a caring person inside. The arrogance he’d once exhibited, now relaxed listening to Don’s request. Maybe he was more than a rough and abrasive exterior. Maybe the façades they showed in public paired with each other.

  “Good to hear, Don,” she said. “Tell us your concerns with the contract as it stands.”

  “As I mentioned, I believe in Ryan. The offer is low considering his talent and the rise of his last album.”

  “Everything in Ryan’s contract is standard for any new artist.” Gavin held his ground.

  How was the offer too low? What about the signing bonus? She grabbed his arm, halting him. “Continue, Don.” Gavin’s glare cut her face. She didn’t care.

  “He sold about ten-thousand album downloads last year, all on his own through social media. His new album is almost complete, and Omega would make pure profit off the sales.”

  Gavin rested his elbows on the table. “The album will be remastered and refined for the airwaves. An unavoidable cost. Second, we don’t know how his new album will sell. We’re assuming some risk, which you can respect.” He backed away to allow the waiter to serve his salmon. “Third, the benefits he and you will receive from our marketing team will make Ryan Digmore a household name. This offer is more than fair. We’re only asking for a firm commitment of one album. The remainders are optional if we agree on future terms. If it fails, Ryan goes on his way after royalties are paid and the obligation for advances is met. We have the team to get him to the next level or you wouldn’t have entertained my offer.”

  “Okay, let’s talk about the next level.” Don forked a piece of crab cake and chewed. “A ten percent royalty package is not enough. Other acts are signing for at least sixteen percent in initial album sales. The clause in the contact states the percentage is fixed through the first three albums. I would like to negotiate for twelve and a half percent at signing.”

  Gavin wiped his mouth with his linen and countered. “Ten percent to start, twelve and a half after the second album, if it reaches three-hundred thousand copies sold.”

  “I will agree to the ten percent with sliding increases per album. But we would need twelve and a half percent with two-hundred and fifty thousand sold on the second and a renegotiation for more on the third album.”

  Shane’s toes curled in her pumps. Masters at negotiation, she delighted in their exchange. Gavin’s poker face, hard angular jaw, and laser focus on Don’s counteroffer left her speechless. He provided a strong hand for Don to play against.

  “I’ll only agree to the renegotiation if there is to be a third album, based on the revenues of the first two. All other fine line offers in the contract stand as is.” He set his fork down, waiting in silence. Come on, Gavin. Offer the bonus. Leaning back with an elbow propped on the armrest, his thumb casually rubbed the inside of his fingers.

  She interjected, “Where are you with considering a contract with Avalon Music Group?”

  “That’s private,” Don answered with arched brows.

  “Now, Don. I know my competitors and understand their terms. But let me ask you this: How is Ryan going to support his sister through their contract?” They both knew AMG offered no signing bonus or any other incentives in trade for cash.

  Gavin sat back, letting the conversation unfold.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I know Ryan’s story. I saw the spot he did on AXS when his first album did marginally well. The whole up-and-comer-on-the-rise.” She smiled. “It was a moving piece. Incredibly touching.”

  He softened. “Yeah. They insisted on putting the part in about why he pursued music for his sister. But he’s pretty private about it.”

  Pride swelled her chest. “I’m glad he let it run. I’m a sucker for a story, especially with musicians.” They laughed as Gavin forced a smile. Her hand cupped Don’s arm. “What I’m getting at is, I value the people that make their music, and I want to be a part of it. How I do that is by signing them and allowing them to express themselves the way they want. I also see a good deal of business too.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Take the deal. Ten percent with an increase at three hundred thousand albums sold and throw in a signing bonus upwards of 80K. Not an advance, but a bonus Ryan can use however he wants.”

  Don wiped his mouth and pushed away the empty plate. She had him. Relate and sign. If people believed in their missions, any deal was possible.

  “What do you say, Don?” Gavin chimed in. What resembled respect crossed between Shane and him.

  “I’d say it’s a pretty appealing deal.” Don rose from his seat. “I will run these things past Ryan, but I’m very confident he will agree.”

  Gavin held out a hand after he stood. “The offer stands until the end of the week.”

  “Understood. I’ll have an answer to you by then. Ms. Vaughn…” Don nodded before walking away from the table.

  Taking their seats again, the excitement inside her bubbled over. Man, she missed this. “Wow,” she blew out. “That was incredible.”

  “It was.” He drummed his fingers on the table.

  “You okay?”

  “I thought we agreed on no signing bonus.”

  She laughed. “You said no bonus. I told you to put it in.”

  “I was under the assumption we were partners.”

  “We are, and what I say goes.” Gavin’s jaw tightened, preparing for a slingshot-like response. “And before you get your boxers in a twist, I liked that you didn’t put the signing bonus in the contract.”

  A sarcastic chuckle sounded. “Really.”

  “Yes. Partners show each other when to make a move, when to hold back, and when to push each other’s limits.”

  “I know about limits, Shane.” His declaration hit her squarely in the chest. Limits… Were they talking about the same thing? Her thighs pushed together as she stared at the fury within his slate blue eyes. Damn, he was sexy when he was riled up.

  “Anyway, you held back, and I made a move. Good cop, bad cop.” She waved over the waiter. “A martini for me, and he will have a Blanton’s, neat.”

  “Shane, it’s one o’clock on a Monday.”

  “And? My schedule is clear until three.” She snatched her phone and typed a message. The device made a swoosh sound. “So is yours. Any other objections?”

  “What did you do?”

  “David has Tasha clearing your schedule. If anyone has an issue she’s to let them know you are with me.”

  Shane’s fingers nearly tangoed off the keyboard. She was light and excited. Another part of her Gavin failed to witness previously. She was full of surprises. This woman had him wondering what the fuck was up or down and even if he cared.

  Do I care? Yes. No. Maybe. What the fuck?

  The waiter brought their drinks, and he gulped the tumbler of bourbon. Taking the edge off might require a little more than the burn of alcohol.

  “Why are we staying?”

  “To celebrate, partner.”

  Gavin lifted his drink. “To as good as closing Digmore.”

  “Indeed.” She drank, leaving a pink glossy lip mark on the rim of her glass. She smoothed her full lips. “Tell me something about you, Gavin.”

  Spilling his past wasn’t part of the deal to get her job. He’d only feed her morsels to continue drawing Little Red Riding Hood into the wolf’s den, not give the entire lot.

  “Nothing to tell.”

  She leaned her head into her hand as if preparing to watch a scene in a movie. She
blinked, and her blue eyes became clear, insisting he give her something.

  “There is.” She was relentless.

  “There’s nothing you need to know.” Uncomfortable with the spotlight, his chest burned. A fine thread of control, ready to break.

  “Please?”

  He snapped. “Jesus, Shane, don’t you have my employee file? Didn’t you read it before I was hired? I’m sure you would find out more from my background check than anything I could tell you.”

  She blinked out of cadence, possibly stunned by his outburst or maybe embarrassed by the glances from neighboring tables. He ran a hand along the back of his neck. Jesus, get it together.

  “Yes, I’ve read your employment jacket. Cover to cover, several times.” She fished out an olive from the martini and chewed it.

  He glared. Was she testing him?

  “It’s pretty interesting reading. So much so, John Talbot didn’t want to hire you. Thought it was too risky.”

  John Talbot. The ruling Chairman of The Board for Omega Records with pockets so deep and secrets so long he might as well be running the entire music industry.

  “And let me guess, you changed his mind. Your love of stories and all.”

  A smile threatened the corners of her mouth. Was he supposed to be grateful now? Feel some sort of ultimate loyalty to her?

  “Perhaps.” She shrugged. “But you know what those documents didn’t tell me?”

  “What, Shane?”

  “The why behind it all. What you must have felt being in jail for months. The death of your daughter—”

  “Enough.” He couldn’t bear to hear her name. Nicolette. Or what Shane thought about what he’d felt during that time. She wouldn’t understand. No one did. He would continue to pay his penance alone. “Why the fucking interest all of a sudden?”

  His fingers curled around the armrest to stop the room from spinning. Shane knew. Of course she did, yet she never mentioned it.

  “Why not? We need to understand each other for this to work. Have you ever been honest with anyone? Honest with yourself?”

  He snatched the tumbler of alcohol with such force he could have sworn it would shatter in his hand. She cupped his arm like she did Don’s. He relaxed slightly, loosening the death grip on the glass. Her touch could open the gates to vulnerability and understanding. He shifted away.

  “Knowing my past won’t change a thing. What matters is today.”

  “What matters is letting go of the idea the world is out to get you.”

  Cynical laughter erupted from him. “That’s what you think?”

  “Very much.” As calm as a summer breeze, Shane didn’t lose her resolve.

  His rage fought its way through clenched teeth as he lurched forward.

  “Wrong. I’m out to get the world. And you want to know why? Do you want to understand all the details behind that night? Do you think you can handle it?”

  He didn’t recognize his own voice. His heart pounded with the rush of emotion and adrenaline. The man he’d been all those years ago threatened to make a reprieve. The one whose mother chose his father over him. The man whose father set expectations so high disappointment and failure could be the only results of his efforts.

  “Yes, I can handle it.” Shane remained steadfast. No fear. No running. No pity. Who the fuck was this woman? And why did he feel he could share his past? Her resolute and sobering tone cut through the chaos enough for him to speak evenly. He pressed the bridge of his nose and exhaled.

  “Shane, only a few people in this world know my past, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Anyone outside your family?” He shook his head. She sighed as she wrapped her fingers around a linen napkin on the table. “Not everyone is an enemy. Some can be allies. And if this partnership is to continue without tension, I suggest you start aligning.”

  Shane made a beeline toward her office, relieved to find David at his desk. While leaning one hand on the desktop, she asked, “Sweetie? Can you call Tasha and get Gavin’s schedule for the rest of the week?”

  She’d cracked the outer shell over lunch. It was time to take matters into her own hands. If he wasn’t talking, she’d dig.

  “Oh, no. What are you up to?” He peered at her over the top of his black-rimmed glasses.

  “Nothing.” She smiled even though guilt laced her tone.

  “Doll, you should know me better.” He crossed his arms and pursed his lips. “No call until you ’fess up.”

  “You will because I’m your boss.”

  He lifted a perfectly shaped brow. That line never worked with him.

  “Ah! Fine. There’s a story, and I want to see”—she shrugged her shoulders—“…you know…what he’s all about.”

  “You stalker!”

  “Shhh. Not so loud.” A few employees walked by the desk. “Let’s call it research. He’s holding something back and giving me no choice.”

  “Stalking is illegal in all fifty states, doll.” He dialed the phone while grazing over her form. “Orange might be your color.”

  “Remember, you’re an accomplice now.”

  “Shit…oh, hi Tash… Nothing, stubbed my toe.” Shane giggled as his face wrinkled. “Can you send me Gavin’s schedule for the rest of the week?...Yes...The boss wants it.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, babycakes, she does…You know I don’t ask questions.” He laughed at something Tasha said. “Okay, thanks babe. Smooches.” The receiver rattled on the cradle when he hung up.

  “What’d she say?”

  “She thinks you’re up to something. Tasha’s all about the gossip.” He waved his hand to dismiss her. The email pinged. “There it is, I’ll send it to you.”

  “Thanks, sweetie,” she said skipping into her office.

  She tore into his calendar. All typical meetings. A few scheduled with his staff, current artists and managers. Nothing crazy. This weekend, he was going to see a new musician at the Village Underground, and Wednesday he had six p.m. to eight p.m. blocked off at a restaurant in Chelsea. No name or invite sent out. Who was he meeting? Was it business or pleasure?

  Perhaps she could accidently run into him.

  “I’m not stalking.” A little chuckle escaped.

  10

  The New York sunset poured through the massive windows of Jacob’s office. The warmth soothed him in an embrace, caressing each part of him. He relinquished a sigh as the solitary tranquil moment washed over him. The dark ache inside his chest hadn’t dulled after seeing Shane. He wasn’t getting her back.

  He leaned a forearm on the window above his head and tapped his fingers on the glass. The last few days had been agony. Physical yearnings to reach out to her tested the restraint he’d nurtured over several years. One hour with her had unraveled him. The nights were hard. Flashbacks disguised as nightmares flooded his sleep, leaving him with cold sweats and the need for frigid showers.

  He missed her. His errors plagued his hardened soul, ripping it open again. Their undeniable connection had never broken. And now he could never erase what he’d done to her and her company.

  Breathing deep, he remembered her words—because I loved you—before the fading orb of bright light slipped past a neighboring high rise. Not I still love you. The sun had set on his chance to be with the one woman he cared for and should have loved forever.

  “Mr. Andrews?” his assistant called.

  He turned, taken from his moment of contemplation. She stood, leaning on the dark wood doorframe, her silky blonde hair in a tight ponytail. “Yes, Liza?”

  “Is there anything else you need today, sir?”

  He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal as he approached his cherry wood desk. “No. You can go. Thank you.”

  She nodded before closing the door, and he sat, rubbing his face. Leaning back in the chair, the void in his chest deepened like a bottomless abyss, threatening to swallow his soul. She was over him, and he’d made sure they would never have another chance. He had been too naïve to
think a rash business deal and seeing her would get him closure. Something he mistakenly thought he’d accomplished years ago. Not seeing her, smelling her, or touching her rehabbed his need to be with her.

  He’d suffered physical and mental withdrawals, and he’d quickly learned to live without her submission and love. But seeing her changed it all, and like an addict’s relapse, he craved her.

  He sipped from the rocks glass on his desk and clicked on the internet browser. He typed Shane Vaughn into the search bar and sifted through the pictures Google had thoughtfully displayed for his viewing.

  Many he’d seen but a new one appeared from an arbitrary website known for recycling stories from other mainstream celebrity gossip sites. She was leaving the airport with David following closely behind. She wore barely any make-up and dressed in tight jeans and a simple long-sleeved gray shirt. Gorgeous. She’d woven her hair into a messy braid, and large sunglasses hid her beautiful eyes. He squinted, wishing he could see them. They expressed so much, and he missed seeing the fascination they presented to the world. Simple things in life had always captivated her.

  The caption under the picture read: Omega Records CEO, Shane Vaughn, and friend arriving from L.A. amidst the Anna Marie scandal. He chuckled. David would be pissed being labeled ‘and friend’.

  He enlarged the photo and sat back. His mind traveled to her in his bed, memories so strong he could swear her perfume floated through his office. His cock awakened in his black pinstriped dress pants as he remembered touching her soft skin and hearing the way she’d groan his name.

  Fingers teased the tip of his growing erection. Sharp pangs of desire gripped him. His breathing deepened as his hand rubbed root to tip. The friction from the fabric caused his dick to expand with each pass.

  His elbows hit the desk, and he ran his hands through his hair. The self-inflicted routine occurred daily. Jerking off to her picture roiled his stomach. But who could he touch? Who would allow him to release his lascivious nature on them so he could forget Shane?

  He lazily dialed the phone. “Where are you?” His voice snaked through the receiver in a sensual tone laced with sexual danger. He listened to the response. “Come to me.”