Light Dream (Love in Illyria Book 2)

by Adalind White

  He nodded. "You're a natural. I've watched you handle the guys. They have no clue that they do exactly what you say."

  Her cheeks turned pink, and she lowered her eyes to the floor.

  "That sounds awful."

  "Sometimes we have to help people without their knowledge."

  Tears welled up in her eyes when she looked up again. He smiled as warmly as he could, trying to convey that he wasn't judging her for using her ability to influence people. He thought of Vy's imperviousness to such advice, and his expression closed up.

  The deep sadness in her eyes told him that somehow she knew that he was hurting. He was denying himself something he deeply wanted.

  "I'll be back in Salona in a few weeks," she said with the slightest croak in her voice. "The school year starts on October 1st. You can have all my time until school starts, and maybe we can work out a schedule that fits with my classes after."

  He nodded. He would take all the time she could spare.

  "The auditions are over," he said. "We work with our teams during the summer and record episodes in advance all through September. We'll see how we can work it out for you to come to the House from October until the final in December."

  "Is this the only reason you want me there?"

  He raised his eyebrows inquiringly. She shrugged, waiting for an answer. When none came, she seemed to relax.

  "I don't think Vy would talk to me about TC's strategy even if she knows anything about it."

  A corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes twinkled.

  "You are something else, Miss Lewis," he said. "I hadn't even considered using you as a spy in the enemy camp. I trust that you can be equally tight lipped about my strategy or you feel you should share this with your best friend?"

  "Shouldn't be a problem. Vy never talks about you."

  The briefest flash of pain stabbed through his chest

  "Good," he said gruffly. "Is there anything else you want to know about the job?"

  "Salary?"

  He smiled at her fondly. Alice had a way of breaking tension with subtle remarks. The idea that she cared about money amused him. Alice Lewis was one of the richest persons he had ever met. In the fullness of time, she would inherit her grandmother's fashion empire and her grandfather's fleet of ocean liners. He wasn't impressed by her pedigree or her wealth, but he saw her as a person. From everything he knew, few people in Alice's life saw the real her.

  "We have a kick-off meeting tomorrow. It's not mandatory to introduce our teams but I want you to be there already."

  "No problem. What time should I be there?"

  "It starts at 10. We'll meet here at 8.30. David is coming, too."

  "Great. Should I prepare in any way?"

  "No. You won't have to say anything tomorrow. I'll ask someone from the production staff to give you a tour of the House."

  He stood up, and turned his back to her to stare unseeing out the window. He tried to find a way to tell her that he wasn't a jerk. That he hadn't played with Vy's heart.

  "Alice, I..."

  He paused. He rubbed his temple before continuing. He drew back into his shell.

  "I won't be in the studio as much in the next few months. Christine and I changed the visitation schedule, so I'll take a few more trips to America than I had planned. I'm going to need you to keep things under control here."

  "Umm, okaaay," she said.

  "Keep your band on track. They sometimes get distracted experimenting, but I want you to launch the album this autumn. That means record all the songs in the next two months."

  "I'll do my best"

  "I wrote you a few songs," he said and gave her the music sheets.

  "When?" she asked, looking over them.

  "The past few days," he said.

  Her eyes went round with surprise when she saw the lyrics on the back.

  "Wow! These sound... awesome. For us? They're not Wanderlust songs?"

  "Talk to your friends. Let me know if you think they don't feel comfortable pla-"

  "You're joking right? I can never tell when you're joking," Alice said.

  For all the time they had worked together, the kids were still his fans more than his friends. He almost blushed when she heard her.

  "We all think that you're the God of Rock. There is no chance in hell anyone in the band might think that these are anything less than gold. So, if you want them to play them with Wanderlust, this is your last chance. Once I leave the room, they are ours."

  His mouth twitched and his eyes grew warmer even though his heart bled. These young people were the same age as Vy. He was right to walk away from her. Had he pursued her, he would have done nothing better than take advantage of her crush.

  "They're yours. I wrote them with your band in mind."

  "Andrew?" She took in a deep breath, and dared. "Are you ok?"

  That girl couldn't help wanting to take care of everyone else.

  "Why do you ask?"

  He should have just said he was fine.

  "You seem... not ok," she said. "Maybe you're just tired."

  A sudden tension around his eyes and mouth betrayed more than his words tried to conceal. He could see the concern in her eyes.

  "Yes, that must be it," he said.

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to be nosy."

  "You don't have to solve everyone's problems, Alice," he said.

  A flush crept up her face. He meant to be kind, but the observation struck a nerve.

  "Just those of the people I care about, " she said.

  "I appreciate I made the list, but you don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine."

  He tried to reassure her but he could see he was doing a horrible job of it. 'Will be fine' was so far from 'am fine'. Lying didn't come easily to him.

  "Ok then. Tomorrow, at 8.30. I'll be here," she said.

  "You're a good kid."

  She smiled awkwardly. He was trusting her with his team, but he still saw her as a kid. She stacked the music sheets, folded them neatly and put them in her purse with great care before scampering out of the room, eager no doubt to share them with her band mates.

  Vy

  She woke up early that Monday, and tiptoed downstairs. Her father was an early riser, as she used to be in her life before Carter. Their best moments together were when the first rays of the sun glazed their kitchen in liquid gold.

  She peered through the half-open door at her father, already dressed in his immaculate bespoke suit. His movements were always calm, precise. She knew every minute gesture of the ritual that created without fail the best coffee in the world.

  "Morning," she said, her voice scratchy from the weekend's exertion, or from the knot of tears in her throat.

  "Good morning, sunshine," he said.

  He reached for a second cup while she padded over to him. He repeated the ritual under her eyes. As if by magic, the smell of a fresh espresso tickled her nostrils. She drew in a deep breath, inhaling vague scent of the exotic blend of his cigarettes.

  He placed the two cups on the table, perfectly centered in front of two chairs. Vy sat down in one and made an effort not to moan at the heavenly taste. She was never ever going to drink that horrible filter coffee they made in Carter's machine.

  "Do you have time to look over my contracts today?" she asked.

  "Yes," he said. "I'll order lunch in the office. Mitch would be the best person, but he handles Tim Carter's account, and it would be a conflict of interests."

  She shook her head. "I don't have a lawyer yet," she said. "Can I hire you?"

  "I was going to do it pro bono. Can you afford me?"

  She did her best to keep a poker face. They were always candid about money, and she knew that it wasn't completely a joke. Her father wouldn't refuse if she decided to pay him. Trouble was, his rates were pretty damn high and she had plans for her fee from Celebrity Jungle.

  All the money IBC had paid her for that month would cover Paul Cesara's fee for… a few hours. But it was wor
th it if she could help him relax about her career choice. Money was always a good measure of success for her father. Not the only one, but a good one.

  "Yes," she said, saying goodbye to the obscenely expensive shoes she considered buying. "But if I pay, I want to be treated like any esteemed client. You will not look over my contracts in your lunch hour. You can spend that with your daughter."

  He didn't crack a smile when he spoke, but Vy heard more love in his voice than she had heard from anyone in months. "Do I have to check with my daughter's PA if she's free for lunch today?"

  "Can I pick the place?" she asked.

  "Of course."

  "As your daughter, I don't have to pick up the tab, right? I have to ask because I made a pretty serious financial commitment earlier today and we might have to get hot dogs in the park."

  He took another sip of coffee, and Vy caught a small sigh when he checked his watch.

  "I have to leave," he said.

  Vy jumped to her feet. "I'm coming with you."

  "I'll be in meetings all morning," he said.

  "Excellent. You'll be out of your office. You still have that lovely comfy couch in there, don't you?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

  "You can sleep in your own bed and I'll send a car for you in time for lunch," he said.

  "Are you trying to blow me off?" she asked suspiciously.

  "You look tired, Viola," he said softly. "You need to sleep."

  "Can't sleep," she said. "I need your advice. Not just about the contracts."

  "Let's go then. We have an hour to beat the morning rush."

  He had taught her about the importance of timing a long time ago. She'd been ruthless in her demand for adherence to schedule for all the years she had dragged Alice and Sebastian to their music classes in Orsino.

  Chapter 8

  Vy

  SHE CHOSE MIRAGE FOR LUNCH, and by the miracle of his connections, her father got them a table without prior reservation. He didn't seem put out by the fact that he went into the fancy restaurant dressed in his expensive Italian suit and she hanging on his arm wearing the same jeans she had worn on her way back from Viaverde.

  "Can I ask you lawyer questions during our father-daughter time?"

  "You can ask me anything you want," he said, reading the menu.

  "Can you really do something about my contract with Carter? Without… you know… threatening him."

  Her father closed the menu and looked at her thoroughly amused.

  "I met him a few times, very casually. He never struck me as someone who would back down if threatened."

  She deflated. "F…udge," she said.

  "You misunderstand," he said. "I can get you out of any contract. But when it comes to Tim Carter, threats might not be the way to go."

  "What then? Bribery? He has everything he needs, doesn't he?"

  The amusement in her father's eyes became more evident.

  "Whaaaat?" she asked, genuinely bewildered.

  "There are infinitely more tools than threats and bribery. But this discussion is pointless, isn't it? Your anger is already dissipating. You care about him, and want to live up to his ideal of what you are."

  "How do you know these things?" she asked. "We haven't talked in months."

  "I never stopped watching out for you, Viola. I respect your choices too much to interfere, but I will settle the score with IBC for what they did to you."

  "IBC? For what?"

  Her mind went immediately to the Celebrity Jungle debacle when she had gone into a burning building to get Andrew out.

  "I watched Sing with your mother," he said. "We know how media shapes public opinion. I don't know much about music, and I certainly wasn't objective. For all I know you could have lost anyway, but they showed you in such a way they made sure you didn't win."

  "So… he's not crazy?" she asked.

  "Carter?" Her father chuckled. "He most certainly is crazy. But if he told you that IBC messed with you, he was right."

  "I should have listened to Alice," Vy whispered.

  Her father raised an eyebrow, and she explained. "Before the show, Alice kept trying to get me to rehearse how to answer at the interviews, how to behave in the House. It looks like for nine years we watched two different shows. I paid attention to the music and she paid attention to… the other stuff."

  "But that's not you, is it?"

  Vy shook her head, dejectedly.

  Paul Cesara checked his watch while the waiter brought the desert.

  "We're still off the clock," he said. "I have to tell you something I guess you don't know about Carter. Even if this costs me a lucrative client like you would certainly be."

  She scrunched her eyebrows trying to figure out what he meant.

  "I don't know the details, but he was very sick. In May, when you were filming Celebrity Jungle, he made his will, and we set up a trust fund for his unborn child."

  Her eyes widened and she stared at her father in shocked silence.

  "Is he ok now?" she asked, in a shaking whisper.

  Paul Cesara raised his shoulders. "The surgery went well, but… I don't know-"

  "Surgery?" she exclaimed. "That son of a bitch had surgery and didn't tell me?"

  "I doubt he told anyone. I'm sure he wanted to protect you."

  "Protect me? He better find someone to protect him from me!"

  He was the stupidest man on Earth if he thought she needed protection. Why did he make her feel like she mattered to him if he couldn't trust her with something like this? Taking some time away from him seemed like a better idea by the second.

  "Well, if he doesn't think he can count on me, then I have no reason to refuse RoH offer in America. When do you start being my lawyer?" she asked, anger boiling in her heart and bubbling in her voice.

  "As soon as you need me to," her father said. "What do you want to do?"

  "I had an offer from Rhythm of Heaven to sing in some of their clubs in the States. It's a big franchise, and they liked me here. I want you to make sure it's fine for me to go there, and not be in breach of contract with Carter or with IBC."

  "You won't be," her father said. "If you didn't sign a renewal, your deal with IBC ends a year after you signed the contract. And that was eleven months and two weeks ago. When do you want to go to America?"

  "They sent me a few emails, but I left the matter open." She closed her eyes and hung her head. "I knew something was off about Carter, but I thought he was freaking out about Isabella and their child."

  "Do you want to go now or you can wait another couple of weeks so that the contract ends on its own?"

  "I want to have left last week," she said. "But it's fine, I can wait another couple of weeks. And I meant what I told mom yesterday. I want to go to Salona this year."

  "You don't have to wait. I'll make a visit to DeSalle today."

  DeSalle? What did Lauren have to do with anything? Then it struck her. He was talking about Lauren's husband, IBC's president Roman DeSalle.

  "And Carter?"

  "Do you want me to talk to him?"

  A shiver went down her spine when he said that. It sounded as if he barely contained his eagerness to talk to Carter. Not in a friendly way. Yep, her father could hold a grudge.

  "Why don't you like him?" she asked.

  She didn't think he'd answer, used to Carter's annoying habit of dodging direct or uncomfortable questions.

  "Because he's part of the reason you went to Sing," he said. He let out an exasperated sigh when she gaped at him. "Come on, Viola, I know you always liked the show, but you made up your mind to go when he became a Captain. He and Andrew are the biggest influences in your music."

  Andrew! Even her father called him Andrew!

  "How come you're always so nice to 'Andrew'?" she asked, scowling when she said his name, without ever having had his permission. "Sebastian drove me crazy about how well you guys are getting along. You even invited him into our house!"

  Not just Sebastian. Ever
y time she met her friends, she always had to grit her teeth through a million "Andrew is awesome" stories. He wasn't awesome. He was… He was… He wasn't awesome. She realized she was panting heavily for no good reason.

  Her father tilted her head slightly to the side and took a moment too long to reply.

  "He's good to your band," he said. "And he's very interesting. What do you know about his past?"

  He was leaning back in his chair, in that casual and relaxed posture that Vy hadn't figured out it was his interrogation mode until she was halfway through high school. Did he suspect anything? Not that there was anything to suspect.

  "His past?" she asked, confused. "Oh, you mean Star Factory?"

  He nodded, and his silence prompted her to go on.

  "It was a huge hit back then. He was what, seventeen? I like his music now, but I never liked that old show. Not even when I was a kid."

  "He was thirteen when he started there," Paul said. "They kept him under contract for over six years."

  Kept him? That piqued her interest. "You make it sound very spooky. It was a silly kids' show and most of them are stars now, so the title delivered. Factory made stars."

  "Child labor laws exist for very good reasons."

  "What are you saying?" she asked intrigued.

  Paul shook his head dismissively and signaled the waiter that they were ready to pay the bill.

  "I'll say this. I have a lot of respect for someone who went through that system and works with young people like Andrew does."

  She tried to make sense of that while she snuggled for her nap in her father's office. The couch was too comfortable and she was too tired to stay awake.

  "Miss Cesara," her father whispered.

  She opened her eyes muzzily to see her father squatting next to her couch.

  "Wake up, sunshine," he said. "It's time for me to earn my money."

  She reached out and squeezed his hand briefly. "Thank you, dad."

  Andrew

  He turned off the car radio when Vy's voice came on. They played her songs more often than Ryann Ford's. The last day of the auditions had wrapped up two earlier and this was the first weekend he managed to get off since the show started.

  He was speeding toward the airport, as he did so often since the Summer Festival. It was more than two months since then, and he still wondered if he had made the right choice. Especially when he had to turn off the TV or radio to keep from seeing or listening to Vy.