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)
“Him? Who the hell are you talking about?”
I take a startled step back when he shouts, “Knox! You should have told me about Knox.” He looks like he hates the world when he spits out, “I went from hearing you moan my name to hearing you moan for him.”
He couldn’t have shocked me more if he had slapped me, but we're interrupted before I can get a word out. “What’s with all the shouting?” River exits his room, scrubbing his tired eyes. “I can hear you over Allie and Noah’s fight.” He darts his eyes between Laken and me. “And the tension feels about the same too.” His shocked eyes settle on his brother. “Lake—”
“Go back to your room, River. I’ll be with you in a minute.” His tone drops several decibels. “Nicole is about to go to bed. Alone. Again.” I might have missed his next set of words if my heart hadn't been at my feet. “For the first time in days.”
I want to wipe the arrogance from his face and slap his callous words from his mouth, but since only half the scenarios in my head involve my hand, I squeal out my frustration before stomping into my room and slamming the door with as much force as I used days ago.
That man! That egotistical, self-righteous, arrogant, beautiful man has me wanting to pull my hair out, but instead, I race for the safety blanket I’ll never be without even with them currently halfway across the world.
“You can’t tell him things aren’t as they seem.”
I glare at Jenni’s half-shadowed face, shocked by her comment. It is early morning in London, and with two children under six and a rock-star husband forcing her to burn the candle at both ends, she appeared to be having a sleep-in before I called.
“He thinks I’m an adulterer.” I had an inkling Laken had mistaken Knox’s position in my life when he mentioned finding my earring next to a bottle of aftershave, but it became blatantly evident during our argument. “I can’t let him believe that.”
“Why?” Jenni asks through a prolonged yawn. “Noah showed me the songs you’ve sent through the past few days. He said they are your best to date. But they’re not Rise Up material.” My heart sinks until she adds, “They’re Nikki J lyrics. You’ve been endeavoring to unearth these songs since signing with Knox Records. They’re your pot of gold under the rainbow.”
I flop onto my bed before tossing an arm over my glossy eyes. “I doubt Apollo would agree with you.”
“Then Apollo is a dick.” I grimace when Nick’s head pops onto the screen of my phone. I woke him too. His bad bedhead can’t hide this fact.
Nick is as cocky as Apollo, and before Jenni joined his life, he was just as much of a player, but he’s never once looked a gift horse in the mouth and turned his nose up at it. “I told Noah he was crazy if he didn’t consider at least one of your songs for our next album.” My heart warms when he confesses groggily, “He said he couldn’t do you wrong like that. That family doesn’t stab family in the back. He wants you to succeed and knows your new songs will ensure that.”
“Knox—”
I want to squeal in frustration when I’m interrupted again. How can I work through my confusion if I’m not given the chance to voice my worries?
“I woke up to hundreds of alerts for Nicole.” Jenni swivels her phone to the door of her room. “Oh, hey. I was just about to call you.” Emily enters the room with her laptop balanced on her hand. “I know you can’t afford a publicist right now, and you don’t want me working for free, but I set up some Google alerts for your debut radio interview Monday morning.” My groan gets gobbled up by her confession. “I set them up as your friend, not your publicist. You can’t turn away help from a friend.” Excitement highlights her face. “Anyhow, there were hundreds of alerts overnight.” She clicks her keyboard a handful of times. “Someone in the audience leaked a video of your last rehearsal. It is all over the net…” Her words trail off as her brows inch together. “Oh…”
“What is it?” Jenni asks before I can.
Her eyes scan Emily’s laptop screen for several terrifying seconds before her expression backs up Emily’s unvoiced worries.
I sit a little straighter. “What?”
“It’s nothing,” Emily gabbers out before snapping her laptop screen shut and peering at me through Jenni’s phone. “You know how bad some critics treat new talent. They’d rather cut you down while you’re still in the minors than wait for you to hit the majors.”
“The reviews are negative?”
“No.” She brushes off my worry with a wave of her hand. “Not all of them.” When the FaceTime screen advises her my camera is in pause mode, Emily warns, “Don’t google reviews, Nicole. It is the first advice I give all new artists. Let me correlate the feedback and give you the true response before you believe the keyboard warriors hiding behind computer monitors.”