Page 34 of New Year's Faye

"Sam didn't even know she was interviewing," Justice added.

Alex's smile slipped slightly. "That doesn't change?—"

"What it changes," Justice cut in, "is your whole narrative. Any other accusations you'd like me to destroy? Or should we discuss how the label might react when they learn their new crisis manager is trying to fabricate scandals?"

For the first time, Alex looked uncertain.

"You know what your problem is, Alex?" Faye's voice was steady now, stronger. "You see manipulation everywhere because that's all you know how to do. But some of us actually earn our success."

"I’m just doing my job." His smile was sharp. "Making sure everything stays... professional. We wouldn't want anyone making decisions they might regret. Again."

Faye flinched. It was tiny, barely noticeable, but I felt it where our arms touched.

“We’re done here,” I ground out, my voice rough, barely controlled. “You don’t get to talk to my wife like that. Not now, not fucking ever. You come near her again and you betterfucking believe there will be consequences.” I held my hand out. “Faye?”

She took my hand, allowing me to lead her away but Alex's voice stopped us.

"Have a good night, you two," he called after us. “But nottoogood.”

She froze beside me, and I saw the flash of annoyance cross her face.

“Alex,” she said sweetly over her shoulder. “Go fuck yourself.”

I guided her through the backstage chaos toward the exit. She didn't resist, letting me lead her out into the cool night air and toward the waiting tour bus.

I pulled my cell out of my pocket as we walked, barely containing the rage simmering under my skin.

“Sam! To what do I owe this call?” Hendrix Archer, the CEO of the parent company of record label answered immediately.

“Hendrix, sorry to call you so late but I have a problem.”

I glanced down at Faye, catching her frowning up at me.

“Well let’s see if we can’t fix it. What’s the issue?”

“The label has sent a guy to sort out the apparent mess my marriage has caused. Let’s be honest, Hendrix, there is no mess. Sales are up, our name is splashed across the media, and Faye is gem. I want Alex Pontiff gone. Faye and Liz can handle this. And I will not tolerate the disrespect this fucking guy is showing my wife.”

Faye’s hand tightened in mine as I guided us toward the bus.

“I understand and you’re right. I’ll take care of it.”

“Appreciate that.”

“Have a good rest of your night, Sam. And best wishes to you and Faye.”

“Thanks.”

I hung up, guiding Faye into the bus with a gentle hand on her lower back.

The familiar interior welcomed us, quiet and empty—the rest of the band looking after the VIPs and press for at least another hour. I followed her into the small kitchen area, watching as she sank onto one of the benches.

"Want to talk about it?"

She stared at her hands, still clutched together in her lap. "Not really."

"Okay." I moved to the tiny kitchen, pulling out two mugs. "Tea?"

A small smile tugged at her lips. "You don't have to take care of me. I’m not the one who punched a wall."

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