Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
What the fuck is he on about?
Knox drops his hand from Nicole’s waist before circling it around her balled fist and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know being the protective detail of a music starlet isn’t what you envisioned when pondering a career in music, but we all have to start somewhere.” His lips hover an inch from Nicole’s temple when he nestles into her. The simplest gesture makes me want to smash his teeth in, but my feet remain rooted to the ground since I have no clue who the bad guy is in this situation.
It isn’t looking good for me right now.
“And who knows?” Knox adds, his tone the loved-up one he uses while schmoozing. “After spending a couple of months in the presence of greatness, you might learn a thing or two about what it takes to be a chart-topping musician.”
When Nicole stiffens at the end of his sentence, I stare at her like she isn’t the woman I messed the sheets with last night while correcting, “I’m not looking for a career in music. I haven’t considered it for a long time. But if it were ever on the table, I’d only want to produce it, not compose it.”
I thought my reply would lower Nicole’s angst, but it seems to have done the opposite. The vein in her neck works overtime as she shoots daggers at me.
I don’t know what has her so worked up. I left her a note saying I’d be back as soon as I could.
It’s more than Knox will ever give her.
He runs before they’re even asleep.
“Composing and producing are practically the same thing,” Knox chuckles out. “Either way, everyone starts at the bottom rung of Knox Records before being given the chance to climb the ranks.”
“Knox Records?” I couldn’t be more shocked if he had slapped me in the face with a fish.
Knox told me I was stupid when I mentioned wanting to go into music production during our final year of high school. That with modern technology, there was no money to be made in producing anymore. He tried to steer me away from it, but since music lives in my veins, I spent the first two years of my incarceration on the rec room computer, honing my craft.
I only stepped back when I realized inmates were paid for work that could be sold outside the prison’s walls. I couldn’t see River, but I could make sure he was well looked after, so I spent the last almost eight years making plates for electric vehicles.
The anger on Nicole’s face softens when the disbelief in my tone can’t be missed. “You own a record label? Mr. There’s No Money to Be Made in Music founded his own label?”
Knox nods like it is no big deal he stole my dreams out from under me for the second time in my life.
“And Nicole…” I pause, swallow, then correct. “Nikki is one of your artists?”
“That”—I could have lived without his following four words—“and so much more.”
Before either Nicole or I can object, Knox suggests for Nicole to get dressed before instigating her exit of the room with a gentle pat on her bottom.
I’d be lying if I said his somewhat innocent gesture didn’t fill me with an equal amount of rage and remorse. I’m pissed he’s treating Nicole like a lapdog who will do as told to ensure it gets fed, and she’s allowing it to happen, but I’m also panicked that I stepped out on my best friend with his girl.
Did I fuck my best friend’s girl?
Did I break the ultimate guy code?
Did Knox win again?
He owes me a lot, but if I’ve dogged him like this, if I did him wrong how I swore I never would, he won’t owe me a damn thing.
There are lines I swore I’d never cross.
Lines that are looking mighty blurred right now.
Knox waits for Nicole to be out of earshot before drilling me. “What the fuck is wrong with you today? You’re acting like an idiot with half a brain.” He thrusts his hand in the direction Nicole went. “I’ve been talking you up all week, and then you look at her like a sleaze who’s never gotten his dick sucked.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, turning the tips on themselves. “And don’t blame Candy for this. I know for a fact she sucks better than any vacuum you’ve ever owned.” Before I can remind him real men don’t pay for sex, he shocks me into silence. “Did your first PO meeting make you edgy? There was no need to shit your pants. Officer Barker is on payroll. That’s why he didn’t watch you pee.”
He helps himself to a nip of whiskey from the bar in the corner of the room, firming my worry that this space is as much his as it is Nicole’s. “The fucker is still adamant you need an ankle bracelet, though. It’s got nothing to do with you and everything to do with him not wanting the big guys knowing he’s dirty.” He downs a double of whiskey before locking his eyes with me. “You can’t come on tour with us if you refuse to wear a dog collar.” He kicks at the hem of the pants I slipped into this morning a second after dressing Nicole in her nightie. “So I asked the tailor to give the hems extra flare. No one will know you’re wired.”