Page 25 of Perfectly Wrong

“Okay, first off, don’t call my colleagues ‘subordinates,’” I shot back, not bothering to hide my irritation. “They’re talented, hardworking professionals who deserve the utmost respect. Second, I simply don’t have the bandwidth for this right now. I’d love to help, but my team is tied up with two of the label’s biggest projects for the next two years. We can recommend another team who’d do a fantastic job.”

“Well.” Rento sat back down, his smirk growing. “It looks like we’ll need to revisit the contract or perhaps consider terminating it if we can’t get the best team on board. That was the agreement we signed in Japan.”

Jeremy sighed deeply.

“Jer, you can’t do this,” I warned him.

“I’m sorry, Lena,” he said, looking genuinely pained. Rento, on the other hand, looked elated. “You’ll need to delegate some of your responsibilities. We need this marketing plan finalized in two weeks.”

Before I could even respond, Rento was already on the phone, gloating to his colleagues in Japan about the “good news.”

Chapter seven

I. Was. Wrecked.

Saying I wasn’t feeling great was an understatement. When my alarm blared that Wednesday, my head felt like it was about to explode, every muscle in my body ached, and shivers ran down my spine each time I tried to move. These damned meetings were taking a toll on me, making it feel like I’d been hit by a truck every single day. It had been a week and a half of juggling the Japanese band’s endless demands and the SM Project, trying to do everything at once. I wasn’t eating properly, barely sleeping, and I hadn’t gone out with my team for a drink in ages. My social life was non-existent because the time left to finish that goddamn project was running out.

And yeah, I know what you’re thinking—they shouldn’t have been my problem. I hadn’t agreed to handle their band’s marketing, for crying out loud! But Jeremy was determined to keep the clients happy at any cost. I either took it on, or I’d be thrown under the bus.

Today, we had a meeting with Sam and his team, and I had to be there. Even though things were tense between us personally, his career was more than just another project for me. It was my priority. I’d promised myself that I would help make him a household name—and I intended to do just that, no matter what. Regardless of where we stood, Sam had a special place in my heart, and I couldn’t let him down by giving anything less than my best.

But the moment I tried to get out of bed, I barely made it to the bathroom before I was throwing up everything from the night before. And that wasn’t much to begin with.

I ended up sitting on the cold bathroom floor, tears streaming down my face. I wasn’t even sure why I was crying so much, but it felt impossible to stop. Growing up was a bitch, and I just wanted to be ten years old again and at home with my parents. Then I realized that when I was ten, Sam was still a baby, and that made it all feel even worse. I sobbed uncontrollably for what felt like forever before I finally mustered up the energy to drag myself back to bed. I called the office, told them I was sick, and then pulled the covers up over my head. I just wanted to disappear for a while and come back to life when I felt human again.

“His agent didn’t seem too bothered, but Mr. Martin wasn’t pleased you missed the meeting,” Matt was updating me over the phone about what had gone down that day. It was almost 7 p.m., and I was still in bed, feeling like I was on death’s doorstep. “But overall, it went smoothly, and they’re on board with our ideas.”

“Great,” I tried to reply, but my voice was barely a whisper. I was hoping to wake up feeling better, not worse. “But Matt, we still need to nail down that centrepiece—the rose. It has to be something so unique that when people see a photo, they instantly think of Sam’s concert or his album. It needs to be iconic.”

“I get it. I’ve already talked to the design team about the flowers and the giant rose, but I’m not sure yet. I mean, how can we decide when we don’t even know the final direction of the music? Sure, roses are versatile, but what if the sound goes darker? Are we going to use a black rose? That would be a bit much.”

“Way too much.” That’s when I sensed him. I looked over at my bedroom door, and there he was, standing there in shock. “Matt, I’ve got to go. Thanks for everything today. You’re amazing, and I’m so grateful to have you on my team.”

“No problem, Lena! Let me know if you need anything. Take care, okay?”

“Thanks. Bye!” I hung up.

“Jesus,” Sam whispered.

“Hey.” I gave him a small smile, my heart pounding in my chest. God, he looked so… mature and different. “How did you get in here?”

“I knocked, but you didn’t answer. I tried calling, but you didn’t pick up. So, I tried the door, and surprise—it was unlocked.”

“Oh.” That was a wake-up call. I’d been so exhausted last night that I hadn’t even locked the door. Not my smartest move.

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ What’s going on with you?” Sam sat beside me, placing the back of his hand on my forehead. His touch was cool. “I think you’ve got a fever.”

“I woke up like this. I’m sorry I missed the meeting. I tried, but I barely made it out of the bathroom.” I attempted to sit up, but Sam gently pushed me back down. “Thanks for coming anyway. I wanted to say goodbye before I died.”

He laughed softly. “You’re not dying, Elena. Stop saying that every time you feel terrible. You probably just have the flu. You’ll feel better after a shower and some food. I’m here to take care of you, as always.”

Sam kissed my forehead and disappeared into my bathroom. I heard him rummaging through the cabinets and drawers. When he came back, he looked determined.

“Come on, time to get up and get some water on you.” He pulled the covers off me, ignoring my groans of protest. Without a word, he lifted me in his arms and carried me to the bathroom.

“I love how you smell.” I nuzzled his neck, inhaling deeply. He smiled.

“Promise me you’ll ignore everything I say today. I’m not even close to being myself.”

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