Revenge: The Complete Series (Erotic Rock Star Suspense Romance)

by Mimi Strong

  She glances at the door, letting me know I’m dismissed.

  “Do you think Dylan is a pukebag?” I ask.

  She uses a fancy gold fountain pen to write notes on a sheet of pink stationery. “Dylan? I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed for eating crackers.”

  She makes a purring sound, and a flare of jealousy shoots off inside me. I don’t want to share Dylan with the whole world. His music, yes, but not him.

  Stephanie hands me the address where I’ll be meeting my new assignment. She also hands me the keys for a company vehicle to drive to the location.

  I don’t have much time, so I rush off.

  An hour later, I’m driving a sweet convertible down Rodeo Drive. I’m wearing a tight leather skirt and a designer blouse that’s mostly see-through, with a bustier that shapes me like a corset.

  If my Nan could see me now, she wouldn’t even disapprove. Because she wouldn’t recognize me.

  I park the car, and a second later another convertible careens into the spot in front of me. A girl jumps out and covers her face with a scarf. She hustles past three paparazzi trying to take her picture.

  Wow, I’m really here, on Rodeo Drive. I recognize the girl as an actress who’s just switched from TV to movies. As I step out of my car, the paparazzi run toward me. One snaps a picture before he realizes I’m not a star.

  Gripping my new purse tightly, I walk into the hat boutique carefully. My heart is pounding. I’m actually worried about impressing this guy Bryce, who Stephanie described as a pukebag.

  I spot him immediately, because he’s the only guy inside the hat store. Bryce is a new artist on the Morris label. He’s a DJ who performs with his ex-wife, who most people assume is his sister. He’s got sad blue eyes and sandy brown hair that looks like it hasn’t been washed in weeks.

  His hunched shoulders are making him look like a depressed fourteen-year-old girl. He looks like he needs a whole lot more than a new hat.

  I walk up to him and introduce myself as the stylist sent by Morris Music. He mumbles hello without meeting my eyes.

  For the next few hours, I focus on cheering up Bryce. He brightens up when we get some food in him at a healthy smoothie place. I keep complimenting him and saying encouraging things.

  It lifts my heart to finally see him smile.

  By six o’clock, we’re wrapping up our purchases at one of the boutiques before it closes. Bryce is talking a mile a minute about these amps he’s getting. They have blown glass resistors inside, instead of electronics, and he swears the sound is “chunky and organic, and so much better.”

  I sneak out my cell phone to check messages. There’s a long one from Dylan.

  Hey, Blue Shoes. I called your desk but your friend Nick said you’re out on assignment. This is my number, but I’m turning my phone off now so I’m not distracted tonight. I can’t stop thinking about the sight of your sweet, bare thighs in my car. I wish I could taste you right now. Your skin against my cheeks is heaven. But I’m in hell for now. I’ve got the Big Fucking Meeting tomorrow. Wish me luck. Or don’t.

  D.

  “Who’s that?” Bryce asks.

  The cashier hands him his receipt. She’s written her phone number on the bottom, but Bryce doesn’t notice.

  “My boyfriend,” I say.

  His whole body reverts back to the droopy state I found him in.

  “Did I say boyfriend?” I slap my forehead. “I mean my best friend, who’s a boy. And also gay. His name is Nick, and he’s hilarious. Lots of face piercings. Very sarcastic.”

  Bryce mumbles, “I’m sure he’s way more fun than me. I guess I’ll just go back to the hotel now. Alone.” He sighs.

  I glance over at the cashier. Her lip is curling up in disgust, like she wishes she could take back her number.

  “No way!” I squeal at Bryce. “The night is young and I have a convertible. We should go dancing. I could call my roommates!”

  As I hear my own voice, I can’t believe how well I’m conjuring up this California party girl personae.

  He agrees to give it a try.

  Bryce gets into the convertible with me and starts talking about the places he can get VIP access. I clap my hands with excitement.

  Once I commit to having fun, everything falls into place. I swing by the house to pick up Riley and Amanda. Riley is shy around Bryce, but Amanda pulls out her hairbrush and combs the matts out of his hair. We hit the town, with dinner and dancing.

  Surrounded by his new entourage of three women, Bryce comes alive. He transforms. I blink in amazement as I realize he’s actually cute. At the club, he gets invited up into the DJ booth and performs for an excited crowd.

  We dance for hours.

  Nobody wants to call it a night. I have to drag everyone from the club. I insist on driving Bryce back to his hotel so he can get some sleep before the photo shoot.

  When Bryce gets out of the car, Riley offers to walk him up to his room.

  They’re gone a long time, and Amanda laughs at me for getting worked up.

  “He can’t have bags under his eyes!” I yell at her.

  Finally, after twenty minutes, Riley comes out of the hotel lobby and slides into the back seat of the car.

  “Nice one,” Amanda says, giving her a high five.

  Chapter 10

  Nick is in a bad mood.

  When I show up for another exciting day in the archives, he’s playing angry music over his computer speakers. He doesn’t even look up to say hello.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I say.

  I drove the convertible home last night, so I had to return it this morning. I took a few detours on the drive in, not quite ready to give it up.

  Nick grunts, his eyes still on his screen.

  I hand him a coffee from the cafeteria, and a sticky bun.

  He snatches up the sticky bun and starts eating it. “Is this vegan? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  “Did you miss me all day yesterday?”

  “Yes.”

  His answer surprises me. I take a seat in my chair and rub my upper thighs with both hands.

  “My legs are totally sore from dancing last night,” I say.

  He keeps eating, not interested in asking me about my night out with Bryce and my roommates. I really did have fun, and the whole assignment completely took my mind off Dylan’s dead wife. The one who looked exactly like me.

  “Nick, are we alone down here?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “I’ve been thinking about the thing you told me. About your mother’s big plan to take over Morris Music.”

  He glances up at me, his pale face becoming even more pale. “I shouldn’t have told you that,” he says.

  “Too late, because you did. If you want me to keep my mouth shut, you’re going to answer some questions. I’ve been thinking a few things over, and stuff doesn’t add up. Or, I should say, it adds up when it shouldn’t.”

  “Stay out of things that don’t concern you.”

  “This does concern me. Tell me the truth. Why do I look exactly like Dylan’s dead wife?”

  “How should I know?”

  “That came out wrong. I mean… did I get hired here specifically because I bear a resemblance to Susan? All my friends couldn’t understand why Morris Music would hire someone from out of state instead of a local person they could meet. But I think I got hired because of the photo on my application. Ordinarily, I would never apply for a job that asked for a photo, because that’s hella creepy, but it was my best friend back home who was trying to help me out—”

  Nick cuts me off. “Yes, probably that’s it.”

  “So, you guys knew about Dylan’s past the whole time? You just pretended to spring it on him at the first meeting?”

  “I don’t know. Whatever you suspect is probably true. My mother is a master of psychological manipulation. She has her reasons for everything she does. Everything.”

  I think back to my first meeting with Maggie Clark. If she m
ade all these careful plans, then no wonder she was pissed about me being in the Blue Shoes video. That wasn’t part of her plan.

  On my first full day in LA, I really did accidentally stumble upon Dylan on my own. Even though I was brought here because of him, we still met through a twist of fate.

  And now I almost understand how I fit into the whole puzzle.

  As the pieces fall into place, I feel light. Elated.

  “Q?”

  Nick blinks. “What?”

  “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re Q.”

  “I don’t know who that is.”

  “Hmm.” I sink back to earth and rest my chin on my hand.

  After a moment, Nick says, “Aren’t you scared? Now that you know how Susan died, aren’t you squicked out by Dylan’s obsession with you?”

  “He sent me two text messages this morning. I’d hardly call that obsessed. Besides, his wife died in an accident.”

  Nick uses his fingers to make air quotes. “An accident.”

  “Oh, fuck you and all your conspiracies. You don’t know what Dylan’s like. You need to get away from your creepy spycams and whatever piercing shop you’re obviously a regular customer at. You need to live a little. Maybe you wouldn’t be so pale and grumpy.”

  Nick’s right eye twitches.

  I’m really getting annoyed by Nick.

  Today’s the big day. Friday.

  I’ll be trapped down here in the basement with him all day, while Dylan’s meeting the executives upstairs. That sucks royally.

  Finally, I explode. “For fuck’s sake, Nick, move your face and smile or frown or something. Are you malnourished? I’m going to order two cheeseburgers for lunch and I’m going to cram one down your throat.”

  Nick’s mouth changes. It slowly moves into a Cheshire Cat smile. He looks like a murderous clown from a horror movie.

  I roll my eyes. Now I’m sorry I even asked.

  I grab a box of files and get to work.

  Forty-five minutes later, the phone rings.

  Nick doesn’t answer, but pushes it toward me.

  I pick up. “Jessica Rivera. Archives. How may I help you?”

  A male voice comes through the line. “I hear someone was late for work today. Now, Jessica, what did I tell you was the number one rule of business?”

  “Mr. Morris?”

  He chuckles, his deep voice sending waves of alertness through my body.

  “Miss Rivera, come up here to my office and tell me why you were late again today.”

  “What?” My voice comes out like a wheeze. “Now?”

  There’s a click on the line, and he’s gone.

  I look over at Nick, who is no longer smiling like a freak. His face is shining, like he’s breaking out in a cold sweat.

  “Please don’t tell him anything,” Nick says.

  I stick the tip of my pinkie finger in the corner of my mouth and play dumb. “You mean, don’t tell him that his employees are plotting to steal his company? Don’t tell him you guys hired me specifically because I look like the dead wife of a musician you’re trying to sign… and that you tried to pay me off to seduce him, then break up with him?”

  Nick straightens up in his chair gasping. “We’ll tell Dylan,” he says. “We didn’t just try to pay you off. We actually did. You took the money. You’re a prostitute.”

  I stand and start backing away, toward the elevator. “You wouldn’t dare. And it’s my word against yours. Who do you think he’ll believe?”

  I press the elevator call button. I might be calm on the outside, playing hardball with Nick, but I’m terrified. How could I spend yesterday shopping and dancing when all this shit is going on? I need to find Dylan and confess to him about everything, before it’s too late.

  He can’t sign with Morris Music, no matter how much they offer. The people here are monsters.

  Nick rushes over and tries to get into the elevator with me, but I push him out. He’s as weak as he looks.

  “Don’t worry,” I say to Nick. “I won’t tell Mr. Morris anything.”

  “Swear?”

  “Swear.”

  The elevator doors close.

  I’m definitely not going to say anything to Mr. Morris, because I’m not going to meet with him. I’m getting off at the lobby, where there’s a cell phone signal. Then I’m calling Dylan.

  I press the button marked L for Lobby.

  The button lights up, but blinks off.

  The elevator hums as it rises. I travel up, above the lobby floor and past the first floor. I start pressing buttons. All the buttons. Even the emergency stop button.

  The elevator keeps going, until it reaches the tenth floor.

  DING.

  The doors open.

  Mr. Morris stands in the hallway of the tenth floor, with a girl beside him.

  The girl is my sister, Riley.

  Chapter 11

  “Riley?”

  I step out of the elevator. I’m so stunned to see her, I nearly trip over my feet.

  “Hi, Jess,” she says.

  “Why are you here?”

  She smirks. “See you at home,” she says, taking my place inside the elevator.

  “Riley?”

  She looks past me. “Really nice to meet you, Mr. Morris, sir!” She presses a button inside and waves goodbye as the doors close.

  I turn and stare at Mr. Morris. With his striking white hair, his green eyes are like emeralds sparkling in the snow.

  “What’s my sister doing here?” I ask.

  He chuckles. “Refusing my job offer, apparently.”

  “But Riley’s already got a job,” I say.

  “I hear she did very good work last night with young Bryce. He’s back on track as of this morning, though I suppose I should also thank you.” He nods for me to follow him down the hall, in the opposite direction of Maggie Clark’s office.

  “I don’t get it. Riley’s a pharmaceutical rep.”

  He leads me into his elegant office, filling it with the sound of his deep laugh.

  “She’s got a talent, that one. I imagine she’ll use my offer as leverage to get herself a raise. Good for her.”

  He sits in a tall-backed burgundy leather chair. I take a seat across from his huge wooden desk. Now that the shock of seeing her is wearing off, I’m annoyed at Riley.

  Did she call up Morris Music about a job? That would be just like her to jump on whatever good thing I’ve got going and wreck it.

  Mr. Morris raises his snowy white eyebrows, prompting me to say something.

  “Sorry I was late. It was only five minutes, but I’ll try harder next time.”

  He waves a hand. “Five minutes. Pssh. I’m just giving you a hard time.” His face wrinkles as he leans forward. “You were the last person hired by David Ambler.”

  “I was. But… he doesn’t work here anymore.”

  “No. He doesn’t.”

  I wait for more. The office is so quiet, I can hear the faint sounds of traffic outside, ten stories below.

  The longer Mr. Morris stares at me, the more nervous I feel.

  Finally, when I can’t take another minute, I say, “The elevator is broken. I wanted to get out and… go to the bathroom, but the buttons didn’t work.”

  He doesn’t seem surprised. “Would you like to use my washroom?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  He reaches over to his computer monitor and turns the screen to face me. The view is of the interior of the elevator. The grin on his face tells me he has the power to control the elevator.

  “Neat trick,” I say.

  “David Ambler knew a lot about elevators.”

  “I never met him. We exchanged emails a few times, and that was it.”

  He swivels his chair as he takes an audible, deep breath. Gazing out the window at the city, he says, “When your hair goes white, people start to treat you different. You catch them in a lie, and they insist that you’re the one who’s wrong. That you’re the one who’s for
getful.”

  My eyes go to the screen, to the view of Morris employees riding the elevator. This is so creepy, but I can’t look away.

  “Never get white hair,” Mr. Morris says.

  “My grandmother has white hair, but she’s sharp as a tack. She doesn’t forget a thing. Well… except for the time zone difference between us now. She can’t wrap her head around that.”

  Mr. Morris stays in profile to me. Even when he’s not looking directly at me, I can feel his presence in the room.

  Weirdly, I want him to look at me. I want him to tell me I’m doing a good job. If he makes everyone feel this way, it’s no wonder he’s so powerful in the industry.

  “You’re not from around here,” he says.

  “Nope. But I like it. Los Angeles is fun.”

  “Fun.” He chuckles. “Jessica, can you explain to me why, out of all the intern applicants we receive, David Ambler hired you?”

  Suddenly, my school training kicks in. Before graduation, we did a hundred mock interviews. I know the answer to this one.

  “Sir, I believe my resume and school transcripts opened the door initially. I did graduate at the top of my class, from a respected program. My school puts an emphasis on developing a strong work ethic and leadership skills. When I was fortunate enough to interview with Mr. Ambler, I let him know that my life-long passion for indie music would give me an advantage over other business school graduates.”

  Mr. Morris turns to face me, laughing and clapping his hands slowly.

  “Very good,” he says. “I’d hire you on the spot, and ten more like you.”

  “Thank you.” I beam with pride.

  “Next question. Is Dylan Wolf worth a million dollars?”

  My heart leaps up into my throat. Why’s he asking me? Of course I’ll say yes. I’d say anything to help Dylan.

  “Wait,” he says, holding up a shiny quarter between his fingers. “Let’s make it interesting.”

  “Dylan’s very talented,” I say. “Plus he’s likable, and he has star quality…” I trail off under the intimidating stare coming from Mr. Morris and his emerald green eyes.

  “I’d be taking quite a risk to sign the young man,” he says. The quarter dances back and forth across his knuckles like magic. “But you’re the one who could lose everything. If Dylan takes this deal, your budding puppy love affair won’t last a month. So, Jessica. Do you love him?”