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)
“I don’t care,” I reply, my tone honest.
I feel like a complete and utter idiot, so the last thing I want to do is show my face in public.
“What happened to giving the fans what they deserve?” He doesn’t wait for me to formulate a reply, much less voice it. “Do they deserve to be ignored by someone they once thought loved them?”
“I do love them. I just… I…”
I can’t face anyone if it means I have to admit I fell in love with the man who killed my sister. I’m not even accepting Jenni and Emily’s calls right now. That’s how horrible I feel. How ashamed.
Colette didn’t die on impact. She was still on the phone with our sister, Petra, who she had called at the commencement of her trip. Although she got a handful of words out after the horrifying crunch of the vehicle hitting a tree forced Petra to wake our parents, she was in too much pain to advise them of her location.
No matter how hard I try to forget them, I can still recall the screams that left my mother’s mouth when the other end of the line went quiet.
They haunt my dreams to this day.
“It’s all a farce.”
“You’re talking nonsense.” Knox yanks my hands down from my face before forcing our eyes to align by bobbing down in front of me. “It was only a farce when you listened to your cunt instead of your heart. All women make the same mistake. You’re just lucky you can put the publicity to good use.” He plucks me from my bed, his grip firm enough to announce he isn’t taking no for an answer, before he marches me toward the bathroom. “You have thirty minutes to get ready.” His next words are mumbled. “It’ll take you at least that long to fix the bags under your eyes, so get your ass moving.”
The callousness of his words is shocking. He spent the first hour of my semi-conscious state apologizing on repeat. He said he had no clue Laken had been to jail, much less what he was sentenced for, and then when he found out who his victim was, he was physically sick.
While on his knees, begging for forgiveness, he cried—snot bubbles and all.
I truly thought he was remorseful for bringing up my family’s pain so close to a time when I needed to be my best.
Now I’m struggling with more than guilt.
“Knox—”
He cuts me off by hurting me more. “Colette would roll in her grave if she knew how much you were giving up for the man who killed her.” He acts ignorant to my quivering chin and wet eyes while waving his hand around the bathroom I tainted only days ago. “Wasn’t this meant to be her life? Aren’t you doing this for her?”
Since I can’t deny his claims, I remain quiet. My love of music was founded through Colette. She was the true star of our family. She sang at church every Sunday and had planned to study music after high school. She had a true gift—a gift she wanted to share with me.
After gifting me my beloved songbook, she helped me write my first song. It was one of the songs I performed during my radio blitz. The audience ate it up, and I almost burst into tears when the radio production assistant gave her songwriting credits on the radio’s website.
This was her dream as much as it is mine, so although Knox’s hit is below the belt, he’s right when he says she’d be upset that I’m throwing away an opportunity not many people get.
But that doesn’t change the facts. “I’m not ready to go out in public yet.”
“Then I guess it’s lucky they came to you.”
When I follow the direction of his narrowed gaze, I’m reminded that I still have a heart in my chest. The living room of the suite is in the process of being converted into a talk show set. A dozen production crew are setting up cameras, microphones, and two director chairs that will remain noticeably absent today.
My eyes sling back to Knox when he announces, “You’ll do a sit-down interview on the couch, followed by a live performance on the roof since it’s still set up with the equipment from your last performance.”
I groan. Out of all the places he could have picked for me to sing, he chose the rooftop I thought would be a good place to tell Laken the truth.
Rooftops are our “thing,” so I thought he’d realize relatively fast who I was referencing when mentioning the new relationship I was endeavoring to get off the ground.
Were our thing, I correct myself.
Upon hearing my gripe, Knox rubs his hands together while saying with a sly grin, “If you want a say in your career, Nicole, you need to occasionally get out of bed.”