Page 107 of Stormswept Colorado

I turned around. Paul stood there, looking red-faced and sheepish.

“You said plenty at the event yesterday,” I snapped.

I heard Cheryl getting up from her chair and coming toward us. “What happened yesterday?”

“Please, Ayla,” he whispered. “Let me apologize in private. I’m begging you.”

I didn’t want to spend another minute alone with this jerk. I’d been about to tell Cheryl I wouldn’t work with him any longer. Screw my contract. If the label didn’t replace him, then I would refuse to perform. End of story.

It was time for me to step up for myself. Be theboss.

But maybe I could get Paul to move aside on his own. Let him choose the easy way instead of the hard way.

“I’ll give you five minutes,” I said.

He wiped a hand down his face. “Thank you. Come with me. We’ll talk somewhere quiet.”

“No. We’ll talk here. Cheryl, can we have the room?”

She put a hand on my arm. “You’re sure?”

“It’s fine.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “Five minutes. That’s all we’ll need.”

After aiming an uneasy glance at Paul, Cheryl left the room.

He went to close the door, but I shook my head. “This is all the privacy you’re getting. Your five minutes are ticking down.” Nudging Paul out of the way, I left the door cracked by several inches. Not totally open, but not isolating me with him either.

Then I spun to face him, arms crossed and head held high.

He put his hands on his hips, pacing. Almost a full minute passed. I started to wonder if he’d say anything at all. “Paul, I don’t have a lot of patience. What do you want?”

“Look, I’m sorry about last night. I came on too strong.”

I barked a laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“I’m here to beg you to forgive me.”

“No.”

“That’s it? After all the months I’ve devoted to you and your next album? You won’t forgive one mistake?”

“Was it really one mistake? If I start asking around, will other female artists have stories about you?”

His eyes narrowed, mouth sinking into a scowl. “Are you forgetting who I am?”

This guy was unbelievable. “I don’t care if your father is the head of Ruxton Records or the damn King of England. You havetwo choices. Admit to the label what you did so they can deal with you. Or I’ll tell themandleak it to the media. Either way, I’m never working with you again. Your choice how ugly it gets.”

I stepped toward the doorway. But Paul moved faster. His fingers clamped down on my arm, and he shoved me up against the wall. “No fucking way,” he hissed. “I’m not letting a replaceable little slut like you ruin me.”

I sucked in a breath to scream. At the same time, loud voices shouted in the hallway.

“Mr. Landry, you can’t go down there.Hey!”

Suddenly the door pushed open. A tall form loomed. Took a split-second look at me pushed against the wall, Paul with his hands on me.

“The hell areyoudoing here?” Paul sneered.

Teller crossed to us in a single long stride.

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