"I'll be back in a few hours. Go back to sleep," he said walking out.
He heard something smash against the door just as he closed it. He sincerely hoped that helped her blow off some steam because he couldn't find anything he could do to help her.
The moment he invited Isabella back in his life he decided to do everything he could for her and the child. Everything short of marrying her. All his good intentions didn't matter when he couldn't order his heart to love her back.
Even the first time, he hadn't promised her anything other than sex, although at the time he believed he was in love with her. That didn't lessen his guilt of stepping all over her feelings now.
Something was deeply wrong with him if he couldn't love a woman like Isabella. That came as a painful confirmation of the very thing he denied when he had pushed away Alba.
#
Isabella was asleep when he got back, late into the night. He snuck into his own home like a thief. A quick shower, a couple of hours of sleep on the couch, a change of clothes and he was driving at high speed toward the Sing House before she was up.
That place had been the source of his frustrations and the cause of his exhaustion since he took the job, but this year, he found it the most relaxing place in Illyria.
One of the reasons why he'd been stressed out the previous years made a comeback in the form of production assistant Kate Redding.
"Good morning, Mr. Carter," Kate said when he checked in to enter the House.
She handed him a large manila envelope. He could guess what was inside. A bunch of meaningless forms he had to fill. They went through this song and dance every year. They gave him a bunch of papers, he pretended he lost them, they hunted him down and gave him another set.
IBC's bureaucracy got on his nerves but he was too tired to make a scene. He considered not taking the envelope or throwing the papers up in the air and walking away. It would set a bad example for the already tenuous self-discipline of his contestants.
He needed a way to get out of actually reading them. Over the years, he cultivated the habit of reading before signing. His lawyers insisted on it quite forcefully.
Maybe he could bully some intern from the production team to get them off his hands unsigned. He put the envelope on windowsill from where they could fall out into the hedge on the side of the building without him actually throwing them.
He sat down at the piano and ran his fingers over the keys while he waited for his contestants to show up for the morning practice. Vy's album was coming along nicely. Her songs crystallized in his mind better than anything he tried to write for the Waves. With every new Waves song, he fought against himself. They all stunk of frustration and failure.
The thoughts fell to the back of his mind when the door opened. Vy was important to him, and so was his work with the Waves, but as long as he was in the House, his energy was focused entirely on his contestants.
"Come on in, guys," he said and started playing the song Wade and Antonio were supposed to be rehearsing.
Three hours later, pain threatened to split his head. Staying in the studio with Vy until 2 in the morning served as a contrast between her obsessive perfectionism, her dogged determination to work as hard as he pushed her, and the behavior of his current contestants.
These boys seemed to waste their talent. Wade lacked the tools necessary to improve as fast as Tim wanted him to, as well as the habit of hard work. He seemed content that he made it to round three. Antonio was aware he was objectively better than his direct competitor and he just didn't put in the effort Tim expected of any true artist.
"It's enough for today," he said. "You have stage practice with Lisa this afternoon. I'll try to come by around six."
"Ok, TC," Antonio said.
"We'll meet here again tomorrow afternoon," he said.
"At 2, yes," Wade confirmed. "Are you coming with us at lunch?"
"No, you go ahead. I have some papers to do," he said, looking toward the window, without any intention to touch the documents.
He didn't need a lunch break, but his plan to work with them until Ellen and Tamara showed up had gone up in flames. Their attitude irritated him and he decided that at least at lunch he could get away from them. He took off his shirt and threw it on the back of a chair in the corner remaining in the black t-shirt he had put on before running out of his own home.
Before he left the room, he opened the window wide.
"Mr. Carter, did you get a chance to fill in the forms we gave you this morning?" Kate Redding ambushed him as entered the dining hall.
"I'm working on them, Kate," he said.
He grabbed a tray and piled up food on it haphazardly. He scanned the room, hoping to see Ryann or Lauren, but the only people in the room who were not contestants were King and his little helper.
The guy seemed to be humming while writing industriously on the papers Alice fed him. When he got close enough, he heard Alice whispering in a sing-song voice the answers King wrote down in the documents.
"Three more and we're done," Alice said, taking the page and arranging it neatly in the folder.
King beamed at her. In the twenty years they had known each other, Carter could count on his fingers the number of times he had seen King genuinely amused and relaxed.
They stopped when he approached and looked up at him.
"Hey, Carter," King said. "Have you done yours?" he asked, pointing down at the form he was filling.
"Not yet. I don't know why they even bother to give them to me. They must know by now that I don't do paperwork."
He hoped that his stack of papers was somewhere in the hedge surrounding the west wing.
"Come on, sit down," King said. "They're not that bad."
King and Alice sat on the opposite sides of the long table, and he had to choose on which side to sit. He sat down across from King, setting down his tray careful not to interfere with their papers. His thigh pressed against Alice's for a moment. He breathed in her scent. Same unique mixture of smoke, and traces of wood and flowers. She moved a few inches, and he missed the warmth of her body.
"I remember distinctly that you suggested we should burn them last year," he said accusingly to Andrew.
King waved a hand dismissively. "You just need to find a good system and you get through them in no time."
"I very much doubt that," he said, taking a sip of coffee.
"I find your lack of faith disturbing."
He snorted coffee through the nose when he heard the low mutter from Alice, delivering badly the famous Star Wars line. He patted a napkin over his Darth Vader t-shirt while King looked confused from him to Alice.
"What is this amazing system pray tell?" he said, without bothering to enlighten King.
"Alice should explain," Andrew said. "She came up with it."
He turned his head expectantly toward her. A blush crept up her yellowish cheeks. Did this girl ever see sunlight? Her eyes fluttered and she avoided his gaze.
"System is a big word," Alice said.
"There you go, dashing my hopes," he said.
"I can sh-show you, if you want," Alice offered. "They're not confidential or anything."
He might have to forgo the opportunity to torture some staff guy whose job it was to get him to sign them. It was worth trading in building up his reputation of nastiness if it meant he didn't lose his temper on something trivial. He had enough of that at home.
"I'd appreciate that," he said. "They're in my room. If Andy can spare you for half an hour."
"I can't really, but I know you desperately need help," King said.
"You are magnanimous indeed," he told King who tried not to seem annoyed he used the nickname he hated.
He turned his head to Alice who was playing with her toast.
"Whenever you can, Miss Lewis, I'm at your mercy."
The knife clinked when she rested it against the edge of her plate. She took another sip of coffee and dabbed her mouth with a napkin before turning to h
im with exaggerated formality. Maybe he was getting used to her, because the tiny smirk didn't annoy him.
"At your service, Mister Carter," she said.
King looked at them with raised eyebrows. He had to know that she was Vy's friend and they must have met before. Maybe he assumed they had a friendly private banter about being overly formal to each other. It wouldn't hurt to sow some mistrust in Team King. Too bad he couldn't stand being called Mister Carter.
"Please, call me Tim. I'll soon be in your debt, after all."
"I quite like Miss Lewis," she said. "My friends end up calling me that when I'm helping them with stuff."
"Miss Lewis is perfectly correct about that," King said.
He heard an unexpected strain in Andrew's tight voice, but there was warmth in King's black eyes. What was going on between these two? Young Alice Lewis was an unexpected choice for a vocal coach. Tim knew her vaguely from recordings of Vy's former band, but that didn't make her qualified for the job.
"Well, then Miss Lewis shall be."
"Alice is fine," she said looking in his general direction, as if she tried to make it seem she's looking at him without actually meeting his eyes.
They were close enough for the first time that he could glimpse her eyes under the long fringe. Almond shaped, brown flecked with green. And sad. Weary.
She pushed away her plate, which told him she finished lunch.
"All right, Alice," he said. "Do you want to come over now?"
Chapter Five
Tim
SHE LOOKED from him to the untouched food on his plate.
"Paperwork comes before food," he said.
He stood up and offered her his hand. He'd done it to be playful, but as soon as she touched him, he felt goosebumps all along his arm. He'd felt it when they shook hands when Vy introduced them. Curioser and curioser. He reluctantly let go of her hand and they walked out of the dining room.
"Am I allowed in your Room now?" she asked.
There was an almost palpable amusement in her tone, inviting him to relax. How did he ever get annoyed with this mousey creature? She was a funny little thing. Best friend material, just like Vy.
"You didn't forget about that, huh?"
"Not easy to forget meeting your idol and annoying him at first sight."
Her admission that he was her idol tickled him. He had to confess that he had recognized her.
"It wasn't at first sight," he said.
"But I did annoy you? Pardon me for breathing, I'm sure."
He let out an unexpected chuckle, and relaxed even more. When he opened the music room door the sudden gust of air pushed the envelope off the windowsill before he closed it behind them.
"Don't tell me," she said, and rushed to the window.
"Yes, those were the documents," he confirmed hurrying to catch up with her.
"Oh, there it is."
She leaned out the window trying to reach the envelope precariously perched on top of the high hedge. With ninja-like reflexes he didn't know he possessed, he managed to sneak an arm under her belly. He pulled her back and kept her pressed to him with his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.
"They'll give me another set," he said breathing faster than simple exertion warranted. "King would kill me if anything happens to you."
She shrugged out of his embrace.
"Don't be dramatic. I could totally reach them."
"Between the two of you, I thought Vy was the foolhardy one."
Alice looked him straight in the eye for a moment. She looked back to the open window before speaking.
"Vy takes risks without calculating them."
That was an odd thing to say. She was referring to Vy as if she was a child, but they were the same age.
"And how did you calculate not falling to your death?"
"They're so close," she said, ignoring his question, still staring down toward the envelope. "I'm sure I can get to them."
He came next to her and saw that the damn things were in reach.
"I'll get them," he said.
He started to lean out the window when he felt her clammy palm on his forearm.
"Umm... If you say they can get you another set... maybe you shouldn't risk it."
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You have so little faith in my athletic abilities?"
Instinctively she tried to jerk her hand away but he placed his palm over hers, pressing it to his skin. He turned the gesture into a friendly pat before it got awkward.
"I'll hold on to you while I try, ok?" he said.
"Aren't you worried that I might drop you on purpose? You are the enemy, after all."
He smirked his most annoying smirk. She was trying to manipulate him. The mouse had some ego on her.
"Reverse psychology doesn't work on me, Miss Lewis," he said. "King doesn't want to win this thing badly enough to tempt you to murder me."
"You might be right about Andrew, but you don't know how competitive I am."
Very good point. He should step up his game this year. He could mess with King's head any day of the week, but Alice Lewis was an unknown quantity.
"Thank you for the warning. I'll repay you in kind. If you try to push me, I'll make sure I take you down with me. Fair enough?"
"A pact of mutually assured destruction. If this worked in the Cold War, I can't see why it wouldn't work here."
That was a surprise comment. Most people Vy and Alice's age placed the Cold War in a mythical, long gone past. Younger Illyrians had known nothing other than peace and prosperity.
"What do you know about the Cold War?" he asked.
"I'm a history nerd, on top of all my other sins."
Another unexpected turn of phrase. Sins. The word had strange harmonics from this prim and proper young lady. What other sins could she have?
"Sins," he repeated her word, looking at her more closely. "I like that."
She flustered under his scrutiny, not meeting his eyes.
"You have me, right?" he asked, taking her hand.
She nodded and her grip tightened, squeezing his hand to the point of pain. He leaned out the window and it didn't take him long to grip the folder securely between index and middle finger. He pretended to lean further out and Alice pulled him back more forcefully than he expected.
She let go of his hand as soon as he was standing up, with the manila envelope in his hand. She wiped her sweaty palm on her jeans, and he did the same.
"You worry too much," he said.
She blushed and put her right hand palm up, demanding their catch.
"Give me that. I'll write down the answers to the common questions, and ask you what I don't know."
"I don't have a pen," he said, handing her the folder, without letting go of it.
She snatched it from him and took a pen from the inside of her jacket. He watched her head for the small table in the corner. He had the feeling that if he didn't focus on her, he wouldn't even see her. She was the only other person in the room, but she could almost make herself invisible. That was a dangerous skill for an opponent.
He let her get started on the form to lower her concentration before he started prying.
"History?"
She didn't raise her head from what she was writing.
"Mmm?"
It was working. Her mind was on the papers, so she wouldn't focus on lying to him. It was as good as truth serum.
"Cold War tactics," he elaborated. "I was wondering if you're a history major."
She still didn't look up when she answered.
"No. I just like history. My parents are archaeologists, my grandparents fought in the wars. I couldn't escape it if I wanted to. Fortunately, I quite like it."
The penny dropped. Archaeologists! Lewis. Gregory and Lara Lewis. He'd been devouring Gregory Lewis's articles for years.
"I bet. Professor Lewis has some very interesting theories about military warfare in the ancient world."
She did look
up at that.
"You read my father's books?"
"Not just a pretty face," he said.
She flustered again. Unnecessarily, in his opinion. Professor Lewis was little known outside scholarly circles due to his heavy writing style. The Lewis papers were some of the nastiest, most convoluted books he ever read, but the information in them was priceless.
"I didn't mean..." Her voice trailed off. "His books aren't exactly easy to read. I lost track of how many of his students I had to help understand them."
That was good to know. She knew about history and she had the habit of helping people. Maybe he wasn't a special case. It was just a thing she did, and he could use it against her if needed.
"You help people a lot."
She shrugged off the compliment.
"I was with my parents when made many of those discoveries. I heard them develop those theories. If I had to read them straight out of the books..."
"You were on expedition with them in Africa?" he exclaimed, taken aback. "Didn't they get captured by rebels?"
"How much of a history nerd are you?"
The vague trace of a smile played on her lips and twinkled in her voice. He sat down across the small table from her. He hadn't found anyone in his life to share this interest with, and he found an irresistible urge to open up to her.
"It's a secret."
Her lips did something complicated that wasn't quite a smile. If he hadn't seen her smile only a few minutes earlier when she was looking at King, he'd think there was something wrong with her mouth.
She lowered her head and went back to her task.
"It clashes with the whole rockstar image, huh?"
The comment didn't annoy him as it should have. Her soft tone had a spoonful of honey along with pinch of spice.
"What are you reading now?" she asked.
He felt an inordinate need to impress her. To make her look at him with that bright admiration he saw when she was around King.
"I'm re-reading Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire."
When she looked up from the papers again, she seemed genuinely impressed. It thrilled him to the core. He heard a small voice in his head warning him that he didn't even know this girl.
Rockstar vs Heiress (Love in Illyria Book 3) Page 3
