Page 124 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

“Welcome to Sugar Sound,” she greets, her voice sharper than Chrissy’s. She adjusts her handbag over her shoulder,settling it safely at her side. “Mr. Monroe has been expecting you.”

I’m sure he has.

Christian takes my hand, offering another one of his victorious, cocky smiles before tugging me along with him. I’m sure he thinks he’s showing me support of some kind, but all it really makes me want to do is crush his fingers.

But even I’m not petty enough to purposefully damage a guitarist’s strum hand.

The three of us enter the building together. Much like the Midnite Music building in San Francisco, the Sugar Sound lobby is plastered with posters of their biggest acts from Nadia Danes to Thunderstrike.

To The Electrics.

I glance away from Logan Shock’s magnetic stare as we make our way to the elevator. The three of us travel up, up, and up, until finally disembarking on the top floor. Suspended high in the New York City sky, my gaze drifts as we walk through the wide entryway surrounded by windows toward the office at the far end of the corridor.

A secretary glances up as we approach the desk outside of two large office doors. Her eyes bounce curiously from me to Christian, but she nods knowingly at Priscilla before tapping a button on her desk.

A moment later, the office doors swing open.

“Jordan, darling!”

Paul Monroe steps out of the office. He’s dressed in a jet black suit and tie, really coming into the whole Bond villain thing he’s clearly striving for. “I’m so glad you made it,” he says.

I force a smile as I shake his hand. “Mr. Monroe.”

He winces playfully. “You wound me with your formality,” he says. “But I’ll live. I always do.”

“Nice office,” I say, glancing around. “They must really like you around here.”

“Oh, it’s just a loaner,” he says, waving it off. “At least, until the end of the year, when this all becomes mine.”

His laugh echoes through the room.

“Christian,” he says, turning to shake Christian’s hand, too.

“It’s good to see you again, sir,” Christian says, still looking so smug.

“I’m sure it is.” Monroe eyes the two of us together. “I trust you’ve brought our guest up to speed on our arrangement.”

“Yes,” I say, discreetly digging my nails into my palm. “Christian explained the situation to me last night.”

How Monroe approached him.

How Monroe offered him the solo contract of his dreams at Sugar Sound... if he could convince me to leave Criminal Records and join him instead.

All the little details.

Monroe nods. “And here you stand,” he notes. “Am I to assume that you’ve made a decision regarding my offer?”

He already knows that.

He just wants to hear me say it.

“Yes, sir,” I say.

With a smirk and a brief glance at the secretary, Paul Monroe steps to the side and gestures into his office. “After you, sweetheart.”

I swallow hard, all eyes in the room on me. My skin prickles from the unwanted attention, but I force my feet forward.

His office is large and furnished, and... that’s about it. There’s no decor or identifying objects of any kind. Nothing that would tie Paul Monroe to this space, other than the few witnesses from here to the lobby downstairs, but I’m sure they’re all locked down by gold standard NDAs.

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