Page 27 of For The Record

“Well, for starters, it could prevent another leak since there’s another studio session scheduled today,” Mark explains, gesturing with his hands. “Second of all, I’ve been in situations like this before, back at Lagoon Records. That was how we always dealt with things.”

I frown. I didn’t know Mark worked at Lagoon before, the home of Naoya Sugawa and other rival artists. But his suggestions seem reasonable.

Leo rubs a hand over his chin. “If we don’t have faith in our team or in the integrity of our artists, producers, and staff, we don’t have anything. But we also won’t have jobs, if something like this happens again. I will take your suggestion under advisement and have an investigation started by the end of today. Oh, and Skye, tellDaily Mailand whoever else that we are handling the leak and that whoever is responsible for it will be severely punished and fired. Everyone, you’re dismissed. Back to work.”

Alina Rostova sits with her arms crossed in the corner. Something sticks out of her pocket: a stack of neon green sticky notes. Coincidence? But I remember seeing her when I dropped by the recording studio where she and Ryder were recording. I had been there to make arrangements with Ryder’s manager, Eddie, and we’d made small talk. But later, when I came out of the bathroom, I don’t think she saw me. Yet I saw her through the window, and she was plugging a USB into the producer’s laptop.

As we exit the conference room, single file, I touch the note in my pocket, and can’t help but think that someone is out to sabotage Ryder… and maybe even me.

If someone is accusing me of sabotaging my ex-boyfriend’s career, I’m not going to go down without a fight. And I think I have the perfect target.

#

I’m about fifty percent sure Alina Rostova was behind the song leak.

The other fifty percent is yelling in my ear to be professional and not act like a wildly jealous girlfriend. And to be honest, the latter part is losing. Mostly because I keep telling myself that I’m not a) Leo Perez’s girlfriend and b) helping to further a professional investigation.

Trying not to be noticed, I follow Alina out of the Volume offices, getting into the elevator behind her. As always, she’s immaculately groomed and trendily dressed in over-the-knee tan boots, an argyle sweater, and a white pleated mini skirt. By contrast, my simple olive green shirtdress and gladiator sandals make me feel frazzled, frumpy. Even my white blazer is wrinkled.

She clears her throat, as though she can sense me staring at her. Maybe my eyes are boring holes into the back of her head. “Skye, right? You’re on Ryder Black’s PR team?”

I nod. “That’s me, Skye Holland.”

“I’m Alina Rostova,” she says, her smile walking the bland line between professionalism and friendliness. “So, where are you headed after work?”

“Oh, I was just going to get a drink. It’s been a really long day.”

“What a coincidence, me, too,” she says. “Want to go check out the NoMad bar with me? I’ve been meaning to go there for a while, but I never had the time.”

Something about her offer feels like walking into a trap. Yet isn’t this what I wanted? To keep my enemies close? I swallow and nod again. “That sounds great.”

#

NoMad hotel and bar is a boutique, New York import, in the heart of the financial district. Meaning it’s stocked with a forty-drink menu, neoclassical furnishings, grey-suited corporate eggheads who don’t even blink at Alina’s presence since they probably have no idea who she is. The moment I walk in, spotting Alina by the bar, I can practically smell the money rolling off of the place. I spy the drink prices on the menu: twenty dollars for a cocktail. I wince.

“Two Manhattans, please,” she says to the bartender. “My treat.”

“Thanks.” I put my purse on my lap, fiddling with the leather handle. “So, what made you want to get a drink with me?”

She shrugs, brushing blonde hair out of her face. A David Yurman bangle slides down her arm. I’ll admit, she has good taste in jewelry. “I thought I’d size up my competition.”

“Excuse me?”

Is she referring to Leo? Is she not over him or something? Are we about to take off our earrings and have a catfight where we claw each other’s eyes out?

“I’m just kidding.” she laughs. “I just, you know, I still work with Leo and we used to date, so I thought I’d make friends with his new girlfriend. See if he’s treating you right.”

“Oh, I’m not really his…” I let my voice trail off as the bartender sets down our Manhattans.

“To new friends.” Alina clinks her tumbler against mine. I echo her toast. “So, what were you saying before?”

“Oh, um, nothing.” I straighten, wiping one damp palm on my skirt. My Pandora charm bracelet jangles, the music note charm hitting my glass.

Alina’s eyes latch onto it with laser focus. “Oh, do you sing? Play music?”

Damn. I really need to get rid of that bracelet. “I used to play the piano, but I’ve never been very artistically inclined. The bracelet was a gift.”

“From Ryder?” Her gently probing questions might feel like prying, if she wasn’t accompanying her queries with a healthy dollop of charm and liquor.

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