Rock It

by Jennifer Chance

  “We’ll schedule a break for Fashion Week,” Brenda said smoothly. “Otherwise, your performances will provide all the promotion we need. We’ll film promo spots as we go, along with the Dream It tour video streams that we’ll be uploading to YouTube every night. Evening Star Studios is already interested in a documentary intercutting those videos with interview footage they’ll shoot after the tour is over. And then, of course, there’s the book deal.” Her smile widened as she watched his expression change. “All in all, Mr. Falcone, you’ll be one very busy man for the next twelve months. And after that, you’ll have the creative freedom to choose whatever projects you wish.”

  Her words hit him dully, like the last drops of rain from an unexpected cloudburst. Dante frowned and Brenda’s expression faltered a bit, her eyes searching his face while she was no doubt replaying the tape of her last statement, trying to identify her misstep. “It sounds good,” he said absently, registering her renewed smile wattage as he dropped his gaze to the endorsement cards, rearranging them like a poker hand. He felt the tension in his shoulders, the fight-or-flight response that always haunted him when he had to deal with agency people. One thing was certain, this woman would exhaust him if he had to endure her all the time. Not the kind of exhaustion he liked when it came to women.

  He needed to take control again, now. Of the tour, the endorsements, the agency.

  He glanced again at the junior agent, catching the flare of emotion along her cheekbones as her gaze dropped dutifully back to her stack of paper. Had he seen heat mixed in with all the worry in those eyes? An interesting idea formed in the back of his mind, teasing him. How would all of that energy and heat feel trained on him, for something other than paperwork?

  He grinned, feeling more himself than he had all morning. “Tell me more about this Dream It thing,” he said, leaning back.

  Brenda shifted into her next gear. For ten minutes she detailed the Dream It tour route, the gigs, the venues and the camera crew, stressing at every juncture how important it was for him to “show the world”—and his sponsors, he had no doubt—how committed he was to becoming a global brand. They’d be posting select videos from the tour on YouTube nightly and repackaging the Dream It tour as a reality TV miniseries, complete with new content during ratings sweeps next fall. Right as tickets for his next international tour, Paradise Lost, went on sale.

  “The Dream It tour is the key to everything,” Brenda summed up. “If it produces the kind of footage we expect it to, and the webisodes and miniseries expose you to the brand-new rabid fan base we anticipate, you’re set. The Paradise Lost tour will be an instant sellout no matter where we set the ticket prices, the sponsors will extend their endorsement deals, and you’ll have the freedom to do whatever you want with your career from there.”

  “Sounds good,” Dante said smoothly, as she brought her speech to a close. It did sound good, actually, if she was to be believed. A lot of things sounded good to him right now. “But I’m going to need a manager of some kind to keep me straight, and the contract stipulates it’s at my discretion. My last manager was unavoidably detained in Atlanta.” Cuffed naked to his hotel room bed, as it happened. Groupies did have their uses.

  Just as he expected, triumph surged into Brenda’s eyes at his words. Before she could say anything, though, he pointed at the intern and her bun.

  “And I want it to be her.”

  Chapter Three

  “What?” Lacey brought her head up with a snap. She’d been following the conversation, of course, in between sneaking peeks at Dante, who somehow got better looking every time she glanced at him, despite his limited attention span. But she was also painfully aware of tomorrow’s deadlines looming large, and the rescheduled meetings that Dante’s impromptu calendar change had precipitated.

  Still … had she heard what she thought she had? Her gaze flicked from Dante’s grin to Brenda’s suddenly pinched face.

  Uh-oh.

  “I don’t think that would be advisable, Mr. Falcone,” Brenda started in. “Ms. Dawes is a very junior agent, and while skilled at her job—”

  “She’s been your protégée, hasn’t she, for the past several months?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Then, Brenda, she’s learned from the absolute best.”

  Lacey glanced from Brenda back to Dante, and a shiver of dread sliced through her stomach. She knew what he was doing. The entire agency staff knew. Picking the way-too-green newbie to be his interim manager might amuse the hell out of him, and it might suit his “bad-boy” rep, but it was a recipe for pure disaster.

  “Dante,” Brenda said soothingly. “Part of the expectation created with GoJu and Zee was that I would be personally involved in management of the account.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Dante said, his gaze not moving from Brenda’s face. “You are an invaluable part of my success, and I don’t need you to spend your time playing chauffeur from gig to gig. Not when there are a host of details to keep the sponsors happy that I’ll feel more secure knowing you are handling, as you say, personally.”

  Lacey chewed the inside of her mouth. She wanted to keep the sponsors happy. And make invaluable contacts along the way. She did not want to be stuck in a rolling sex fantasy with Dante Falcone for two long weeks.

  Did she?

  “Dante, we know how important the tour is to you.” It was Jim Greer’s voice that cut through the room now, making Lacey jump. “We want to do everything we can to ensure its success. Your satisfaction has to come first, of course.”

  “Good,” Dante said. His phone rang, and to Lacey’s surprise, he stiffened and went a little pale. Though he’d ignored the first call, he now pulled the device out of his pants pocket and checked the screen. “I need to take this. If you’ll excuse me.” He stood and strode out of the room, the phone to his ear, as if the team he left behind hadn’t just secured him millions of dollars in promised income and sponsorships, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in their laps. Lacey stared at his retreating back, shocked.

  “He’s out of his mind. You know that, right?” Brenda wheeled and launched into Greer as soon as Dante cleared the door. “How do we unravel this?”

  “Well, now, Brenda—hold on here,” Greer said, and both Lacey and Brenda froze.

  “You cannot be serious,” Brenda breathed.

  He held up his hands placatingly. “Dante asked for Lacey specifically.” He leveled Lacey with a look. “Didn’t you, I don’t know, manage music acts somewhere in your past?”

  “At county fairs and apple festivals,” Brenda snapped, but Greer kept going.

  “Stop it, we can work with this. Lacey knows Dante Falcone, and has … something like music management experience. Initially, we’ll go along. Let it get out on the circuit how easy we are to work with. We’re all about indulging our clients—but we’re also about doing what’s best for them. If you find that you’re not able to manage Dante and his crew effectively, Lacey, you simply need to advise us.” He put his fingers into quote marks around “advise us.” “We’ll make the replacement and capitalize on any subsequent publicity as an example of how IMO quickly adapts to any contingency to ensure a client’s success.”

  Lacey stared at him. “So you’ll publicly announce that I failed my first big assignment? That’s not exactly going to enhance my credibility.”

  Brenda skewered her with a look. “Your credibility isn’t at risk here, IMO’s is. The faster you step aside, the better off the account and the agency will be overall. So go ahead and take the job, and then get out before you embarrass IMO irretrievably.”

  “This isn’t a permanent situation,” Greer said. “It’s probably not even a seventy-two-hour situation. Brenda, don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. I have a feeling you’re going to be on that bus. And Lacey.” He glanced at her. “Make nice with the young man until we can get Brenda back into position.”

  Brenda’s phone suddenly chirped beside them, and she picked it up
from the table, her manner instantly changing as she read the screen. “Well, well, well,” she purred, waving the device at Greer. “Looks like we’re about to land another big fish. I’ll be right outside—call me when Dante comes back.” She connected the call with a throaty “hello” and glided out of the room.

  Beside Lacey, Greer gave a bemused chuckle. “I admire your spunk, Ms. Dawes, but if I could offer you some advice—”

  “Of course, Mr. Greer,” Lacey said warmly, turning to him with a smile.

  “Don’t fail,” he said.

  Then he walked out of the room, too.

  Lacey stared after him, somehow managing to make her feet move only after a long minute. She wandered over to where Brenda had dumped the Dante Falcone file. Collapsing into the nearest chair, she opened the folder with a snap … and within seconds found herself tracing Dante’s name with her fingernail, the action such an unconscious imitation of the teenage Lacey that her lips quirked up in spite of everything.

  Unless she somehow performed a miracle escape, she would be traveling down the East Coast. For two solid weeks. In a bus with Dante Falcone. She knew from the logistical planning that they would be sleeping on the buses some nights, along with hotel stops when they had multiple shows. She didn’t know the traveling arrangements, but she was also pretty sure that he’d be on his bus, and she’d be on hers.

  But still! She’d be traveling with Dante Falcone!

  Lacey barely suppressed a sweet-sixteen-worthy sigh, catching her bottom lip with her teeth. How many times had she dreamed of stumbling into Dante Falcone at a concert, having him take one look at her and never being able to forget her? How many times had he hunted her down in her imagination, begging her to go with him on the tour just to have a friend along … a friend who understands me, understands my heart? It was a fully articulated fantasy that had begun when he’d hit the road for the very first time, when he was still with the Dream Team, a boy band that had recorded six number one singles and who’d stayed together maybe one or two hits too long, before spawning mediocre spin-off careers for everyone but Dante.

  Because Dante was the special one. Dante was the star.

  Lacey drew in a bemused breath as she flipped through the portfolio and came upon his all-but-nude charity calendar shots from a few years earlier … something no respectable agency should have green-lit for such little payoff, but oh what beautiful shots they were. Dante “the Teen Dream of the Dream Team” had been a showstopper, no question. But Dante the man had surpassed all of Lacey’s wildest fantasies. Which was saying something. He was hard and sexy, sure—but so was any guy willing to pose for a calendar. Dante’s eyes, however, made the difference. The hunger in his gaze reached out toward her, pulling her into a sensual cocoon of lust and possibility. A familiar tingle skated along her nerves as she slid her nails down the side of his long, lean body, wondering—

  “That guy looks like a tool.”

  Lacey nearly jumped out of her skin as an already-familiar languid voice murmured in her ear. She sat up sharply, pushing back from the table. “Mr. Falcone!” she said, her voice sounding satisfactorily abrupt in her ears. “I hope everything went okay with your phone call?”

  “Better than I expected, thanks.” Dante sank into a seat beside her, his knees practically bumping into hers. “So, where’d the two stooges go?” he asked, gesturing to the empty room.

  Lacey hesitated. Undoubtedly, Brenda was in another conference room, reeling in her newest catch. She pulled out her phone. “They asked me to contact them when you returned—”

  He nodded to the photographs in front of her. “There’s no rush for them to hurry back,” he said, his words practically a purr. “Maybe we should get to know each other anyway. Any of those pictures you like in particular?”

  Lacey felt the blood rush up to her cheeks. He was doing it, she thought, giving a mental shout-out to Brenda. For all of the Barracuda’s vamping, Lacey’s mentor wasn’t stupid. She’d already pegged Dante’s willingness to use sex as a weapon. Lacey gave him a frosty smile. “I’ll have my hands full with your schedule. I don’t think there will be room for anything else.”

  His eyebrows lifted at her challenge, and his smile slipped into stun territory. “You can call me Dante, you know. We’re going to be working together very closely for the next few weeks. I think we’ll need to be on a first-name basis.”

  Lacey inclined her head, her smile all teeth. “Of course.”

  He swiveled his chair as Lacey tapped out a text. She didn’t have to prove herself to him or anyone, she thought. All it would take was to handle Dante directly and professionally. She hit send and dropped her phone back on the table. “They’ll be right back,” she said, and restacked her file folders. Greer could take care of herding Brenda back into the room. It wasn’t like Lacey had asked for this assignment.

  An assignment that could make her career—or shatter it into a million pieces.

  “So you’re probably aware that Brenda has already scheduled a meeting with me this evening at the hotel to go over the specifics of the tour, right?” Dante asked.

  “Of course,” Lacey said. She kept her face determinedly professional, in case Dante didn’t realize that Brenda fully expected Dante to greet her at the door of his suite barely clothed and ready for—

  Stop that.

  “I think we should go ahead and keep the appointment,” he went on. “I have no idea what you people have planned with this video streaming stuff, and I’d like to be able to warn my crew.”

  Lacey nodded once, hard. Well, fine. So he still wanted to meet with Brenda, who cared? Brenda would get her chance to work her sultry magic on Dante, and that might go a long way toward clearing the air between her and Lacey. That twinge of jealousy tightening Lacey’s stomach was inappropriate on about seventeen different levels, so it was probably for the best anyway. “Excellent,” she said. “Brenda has arranged incredible tie-in opportunities with GoJu and Zee at every stop, and she’ll be able to provide you with a complete rundown.”

  Dante’s brows lifted. “I don’t want to meet with Brenda, I want to meet with you. Tonight, nine o’clock. We need to strategize how we can make the tour a success. You can even bring those blasted contracts for me to sign.”

  He swiveled his chair back again in a lazy half-moon as Lacey processed that, struggling to keep her expression neutral as she nodded to him, the soul of accommodation. “Well, that will be just—”

  “So how did you enjoy the show last night?”

  Lacey snapped her mouth shut. Damnit, he did remember her. She shrugged and waved her hand airily, as if she hadn’t spent the last eighteen hours dreading that very question. “Once I figured out how to stay upright, it was a wonderful performance,” she said. “I like what you did with the lighting for this one. Particularly for that venue, it went a long way toward making the arena seem like an intimate club.”

  He raised a long, dark brow. “When’s the last time you caught one of our shows?”

  “Before last night?” Lacey made a show of glancing up and away, as if she couldn’t quite recall. “I’m not sure—perhaps last year?” Try July, August, and October, three different cities, three different T-shirts. To go along with her eBay-ready collection in nine neatly labeled boxes, now stored in her mother’s basement in Philadelphia. She told herself she did it for the integrity of the set, but just the feel of the thin black cotton against her fingertips was enough to give Lacey a tactile Dante rush.

  She felt his gaze sharpen on her, so she kept talking, hurriedly now. “It would have been shortly after you started working with IMO.” It was also shortly after she’d started working with IMO, so as far as he knew, the company had paid for her to attend that concert, solely as part of her job.

  He didn’t seem to make that connection, unfortunately. “So you’re a fan.”

  Lacey’s smile began to hurt a little around the edges. Oh, you could say that. “Of course,” she said, oozing fake warmth. She had
to play this very carefully. Being interested in the client was one thing, but being outed as a superfan would damage her credibility—not just with Dante and IMO, but with the entire industry. Professional distance in this business was not just a good idea, it was the only way to manage a career in which public opinion could change in a nanosecond. A smart entertainment exec needed to be able to change just that quickly, as well. “We take an active interest in all of our clients’ performances, and yours more than most. We are very serious about our commitment to you, Dante.”

  “No, no,” he said, glancing meaningfully at her now closed file full of photos. “I mean you’re a real fan. That’s refreshing.” He sat back in his chair, watching her with his rich, chocolate-brown eyes. “But I guess we can explore that further tonight, can’t we?”

  Dante smiled into Lacey’s startled face. Something about her really got under his skin, with all her blushes and apparent tension. It had to be an act—no one stayed that naïve for long in this business. She’d probably been schooled to act the part of the green junior agent, and she was playing it to the hilt. Worse, he found himself half-believing her, which made it all the more irritating. He was used to women falling into two categories: those he found desirable, and “good girls.” He wasn’t in the mood to create a third category.

  And where had they gotten his calendar photos? He’d finished that gig long before he’d signed with IMO. It was something his manager had landed him before he’d turned into an asshole, right along with the “Close to Your Heart” calendar and the Make-A-Wish foundation concert. So, okay, his ex-manager hadn’t been completely useless, at least in the beginning. And he’d always been low-key, never any pressure.

  Nothing like IMO. Almost overnight after signing with the agency, Dante had found himself booked for talk shows, radio programs, and photo ops—and he would barely get a heads-up before the cameras went live. And Brenda Harris was hell on wheels. The more she pushed, the more he felt driven to push back. With some women he would have taken such boldness as a challenge. With Brenda, he felt like he needed a vaccination.