Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“I bet it does. Control freak.”
He stares at me. “You like it.”
I roll my eyes. “I really need some good news, you know. Lately, it’s like life is dumping on me and it’s hard to see much of a future right now.”
Ansell looks at me with a frown and does something surprising—he reaches out and takes my hand.
I stare at the simple gesture. His palm is strong and large and his fingers engulf mine. The skin is rough and well-used and there’s a scar along the second knuckle. I squeeze gently, and he squeezes back, and I have to blink rapidly to keep from crying right now because I’m pretty sure that would confuse the hell out of him and make things worse.
But Ansell’s comforting me. He’s holding my hand because he recognizes my pain and he wants to try to help.
I know that’s normal human behavior but Ansell is not a normal human person.
I stand there quietly enjoying his body and his hand in my own, feeling a tingling down my spine and the beginnings of a smile play on my lips. Ansell says he feels things because of me and maybe it’s true—maybe he’s beginning to move in a new direction.
That’s terrifying and exciting and I find myself wanting to see what’s next.
We release our connection when the elevator doors open and he’s back to business. The Ice King strides into the lobby of Universal and practically assaults the terrified-looking secretary until she calls back to the head of Talent Operations, a man named Eric Fold. The secretary hangs up and bats her eyelashes at Ansell, which makes me weirdly jealous because Ansell looks at her like she’s a piece of furniture.
“He’ll be out in a moment,” she says. “You can wait right here.”
Ansell doesn’t give her a second glance, and he doesn’t move to sit down. He can be a robot sometimes. We stand there, practically dominating the waiting room, until a man with dirty-blond hair cut short and a big, beaming smile steps around the corner and shakes Ansell’s hand.
“You’ve got to get out of the habit of just showing up,” Eric says with a laugh and glances at me. He does a double-take, evidently realizing who I am. “You must be Marie Pearce. And now I realize why the head of Drake Entertainment just dropped into my office unannounced.”
I nearly gag. Ansell told me we had an appointment or at least he strongly implied it. I can’t believe he’d have the balls to ambush this poor executive, but then again, knowing Ansell, I shouldn’t be surprised. “Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Fold.”
“Don’t thank him,” Ansell says, his voice flat, his sharp eyes cold and dead. “It’s his job. Besides, he’s terrified of me.” He squeezes Eric’s shoulder. “Isn’t that right?”
“We’re all terrified of you, psycho,” he says and laughs again but there’s an edge of hysteria in his tone. I honestly can’t tell if they’re joking around and like each other or if Eric’s legitimately afraid for his life at the moment. It could go either way.
We’re led back into a large corner office with a nice view of the city. Eric sits behind his big desk and Ansell remains standing with his hands behind his back. I hesitate, not sure what to do, but decide to take a seat. My feet hurt from the damn heels anyway and I doubt I’ll have much to add to this meeting. This is all Ansell’s show.
“I’m guessing this is about Pride,” Eric says, taking control of the meeting or trying to anyway. “I’ve heard good things about them. I’ll admit I haven’t listened to their stuff yet.”
“You’ve heard good things,” Ansell repeats back with a flat tone. “That’s somewhat surprising, considering I heard you personally decided to pass on them.”
Eric laughs awkwardly and glances at me before staring at Ansell. “It’s business. You know how that goes.”
Ansell steps forward, looming, and I decide that it’s definitely more fear than friendship between them.
“Tell me why.”
“It’s nothing important. We just have too many indie rockers on our roster right now and Pride’s too upbeat and pop-ish to really fit in. That’s all.”
“I thought you hadn’t listened to their stuff,” I say, head tilted to the side, and I swear I catch the tiniest little smile from Ansell.
“Well, uh, I haven’t, but I get very detailed reports from all our talent scouts. It’s part of my job to know how everyone sounds even if I don’t listen to them.”
“Let’s listen to Pride right now.” Ansell takes out his phone. “You should hear them before you decide.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“I insist.” Ansell plays Pride’s best song, an upbeat anthem that never fails to bring down the house at every show they play. Eric sits there, looking insanely uncomfortable, nodding along to the beat like he’s enjoying it but I feel the tension rolling from him in waves.