Page 16 of For Wrath and Redemption
She lifts her chin defiantly. “I take my work very seriously. I am prepared.”
“So staging a few photoshoots is supposed to reform the bad boy rock star in the public eye? Keeping me on a leash between shows will appease my father? You’re working against a decade’s worth of press. Shining me up and putting a bow on me isn’t going to be enough. Do you understand that,Ms.Davis?”
She gives me a single nod, her prim and proper demeanor never wavering. “I’m aware.”
“You’reaware?”
“Yes. I amquiteaware of the task before me. I have done my research, and I assure you I have a plan that’s a bit more sophisticated thanphotoshootsandleashes.”
I tilt my head to the side and study her. Her eyebrow is twitching slightly. It’s the only tell that she doesn’t like me questioning her ability to do her job. It makes me want to poke her again. It makes me want to see her composure break.
Then she surprises me by stepping closer, leaving only inches between us. She smells like lavender and sugar, and it has a soothing effect that throws me off-balance. I have the strongest urge to bury my face in her neck and breathe in, but I resist. Instead, I don’t blink as she holds my eyes with her piercing blue gaze.
“Any moment you’re not playing a concert will be managed by me. From the minute you wake up, to the minute you go to sleep, you will be adhering tomycalendar.Myplan. Call it babysitting. Call it PR management. Call it whatever you want. Either way, I can guarantee that if you cooperate, we will successfully reverse the public’s opinion of you.”
I scoff just to piss her off, but she arches an eyebrow.
“And here’s somethingyoushould understand,Mr.Hendrix. Managing public relations is a lot like chess, and I amverygood at chess.”
My eyes flare at her words, and her lips twitch, almost as if she’s fighting a smirk.
Chess.
Managing public relations is a lot like chess.
The analogy isn’t lost on me. I can read behind the lines. If this is chess, then I’m about to be her pawn. The anger that’s been building in my stomach isn’t enough to smother the spark of interest that she’s ignited, and I think she knows it.
I bounce my eyes between hers. They really are a remarkable blue. Even in this poorly lit hotel room, I can tell. Her eyelashes, thick and long, brush against her eyelids as she looks up at me, staring me down. Refusing to concede.
Chess.
“How long?” I ask, and the question comes out quieter than I intended. An intimate whisper despite the four other people in the room. She lifts her shoulder in a small shrug before responding in kind.
“As long as it takes.”
“And what’s in it for you?”
Finally, she lets that smirk slip free, pink lips curving upward in a way that promises trouble. The most tempting kind.
“Let’s just say I find fulfillment in a match well-played.”
In this moment, I don’t doubt her confidence. I believe her when she says she’s good at her job. In fact, if there is anyone capable of cleaning up my abysmal image, I’d put money on her. I have a feeling I’m not going to like how she does it, but fuck me, it piques my interest anyway.
I nod once, then take a step away from her, clearing the air of lavender and sugar.
“Okay, Claire Davis. Let’s see what you can do.”
6
CLAIRE
My thoughts are runningrampant as I follow the rest of the band onto their private plane.
I had less than an hour to learn everything I could about Conrad’s son before I was tossed to the wolves.
Orwolf, rather.
What I found spiked my anxiety higher than anything else since working at Innovation Media. Thank God for Xanax.
