Page 133 of Saved By My Buyers

Jumping into the air in surprise, she puts her hand on her chest dramatically. “I’m going, I’m going. I shouldn’t be punished for speaking the truth.”

Blowing out a breath, I shake my head as the lobby clears out. Collapsing into the chair behind my desk, I groan.

“Can it be Friday yet?” I ask.

Ciara doesn’t say anything, and I stay busy answering calls for the next three hours. I’m sure Sullivan has to be done with his meeting, but I get all kinds of questions coming through, and I answer or transfer them accordingly.

“Hey,” Sullivan says softly as I speak to a woman who I’m certain has the wrong number.

“No, this isn’t Sully’s car shop,” I tell her, widening my eyes at him. Snickering, he reaches over and takes the phone from me.

“I’m sorry, it sounds as if you have the wrong number, Ma’am,” he says. “Mmhmm. It’s no trouble. Uh-huh. Have a good day.”

Hanging up the phone, Sullivan blows out a breath. “I tried to stop by an hour ago, and you were busy then too. What’s in the water?”

“Crack,” I deadpan. “It’s been so busy. I don’t usually get calls like this, not unless we’re in the news or something. I mean, it’s almost mid-December. Why aren’t we slow?”

“Yeah, which is why I have students losing their minds that they have roughly three weeks to come up with a unique compilation with their group mates,” he says.

“Group?” I ask, latching onto the word. “No.”

“Yep. You need to eat. Let me grab someone to take over,” he says, ignoring me.

Scowling, I give myself two complete minutes to be really annoyed about this.

“They’re coming back. Fix your face,” Ciara grunts, barely moving her lips.

Growling under my breath, I do as she suggests, forcing my lips into a neutral position. Sullivan looks knowingly at me as he asks Katina to take over for me. She’s seventeen, sweet, and here for vocal support and music lessons.

Following Sullivan, I grab my lunch from the lounge before continuing to his office.

“Who is my so-called group?” I ask, pulling out my sandwich from my lunch box.

Sullivan moves to his desk, sitting down heavily.

“I spent all last night trying to find people who would work well together as far as music is concerned,” he begins. I wrinkle my nose at him in annoyance that he’s known about this since last night, making him chuckle.

“Look, it’s just a few weeks, Dee. Ivan, you, and Pilar should be able to make it work.”

I’ve seen Pilar around. I don’t know her well outside of being quiet and she plays the violin. Ivan plays the piano, but I don’t know how that will translate to working well together.

Swallowing my food, I ask, “You’ve finally cracked, haven’t you? The instruments we play are wildly different, and while Ivan no longer makes comments under his breath, his girlfriend accused me of sleeping with you. So, this will be a lot of fun, dude.”

“She what?” Sullivan sputters. “Oh my God.”

“Yep. No offense, but my dance card is full, more than full. I don’t know why that’s her move: insulting me like that,” I mutter, taking a sip of my water. “Arina is so jealous she can’t stand it.”

“Well to unpack that a little,” Sullivan says, eyes wide. “You’re my friend’s girlfriend, so I would never go there regardless, and there are a myriad of other issues like you’re my employee and you’re a student. You’re also one of the only people that I enjoy hanging out with. Sex and friendship don’t mix either way. Second of all, Arina and Ivan have never dated, even though they’re close. Their parents are friends. Fuck, his father is Mafia I think. God, why are so many of my students’ parents criminals?”

“They have to pay your fees somehow,” I tease him, smirking as I finish my sandwich and open my bag of potato chips. “Have you seen how much your tuition is to attend here?”

“Haha,” he mutters. “Yes, I know. I think that you can create really interesting music together. I hear and experience things differently, but I can imagine a seriously haunting melody, Dee. Just go with it. Don’t let Ivan be a dickhead to you, either.”

“Got it, boss,” I say, sighing. “Any other advice?”

“Yes, please take your full lunch break,” he says.

“I can’t do that. They’re going to fucking murder, Katina,” I remind him, stuffing another potato chip into my mouth.

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