It was sharper than razor blades.

“I know the material.” Her gaze found Loren’s, and I was sure he had stopped breathing. He sat so very still. “Probably better than you since I caught your last performance. You missed three notes and were behind your drummer half the show.” She tipped her head in Rich’s direction, her red mane shimmering under the natural light. The very sun seemed to serve as her personal spotlight.

For a moment, I allowed myself the vision of pulling on her hair while I punished her pussy from behind. From her looks, she had no idea what a dick looked like, much less how to handle one. I shoved the pointless fantasy away.

Loren, miraculously, had nothing to say. I’d already ripped into him for those very mistakes. I didn’t miss his surprise and fury at being called out by an amateur, but my focus was now on Carl, who was stroking his weak chin thoughtfully.

I took that as my cue to end this.

The label had every reason to ruin us, and Braxton Fawn would undoubtedly deliver.

Moving away from the table, I took slow steps toward Oni and her pet project. It wasn’t my intention to put them at ease—quite the opposite. I wanted to rattle the troublemakers, give them time to regret their mistake.

Oni squared her shoulders, standing tall beside Braxton. She probably thought she could stop me if I decided to choke the life out of Bambi.

Closer now, I could see the freckles peppering Braxton’s nose and cheeks. It almost worked in concealing her blush at my proximity. Annoyingly, there wasn’t a single thing I wasn’t noticing about this girl. She smelled rich and sinful like forbidden fruit and wore no bra. Her nipples were hard enough to make themselves known through the thick material of her dress. I wondered if the sweat beading her pale skin was from fear of me finding out. Braxton was too damn young, her eyes appearing even bigger up close. She couldn’t be much older than eighteen.

Which meant I was nearly a decade older.

“Though I can’t say the same for you, my time is valuable, so let’s drop the dramatics.” The fact that these were my first words to her tore at something inside of me. Something I had every intention of avoiding. “I’m sure you think you play well to your soundproof ears, but Bound isn’t looking for a reunion with amateur hour. Run back to your mom’s garage or whatever hole-in-the-wall club Sridhar found you. We’re not interested.”

“Aren’t you, though?” For some reason, my fingers and toes curled. She acted as if I couldn’t and wouldn’t break her in half and sleep like a baby tonight. “If you were half the artist you think you are, you wouldn’t feel so threatened by an amateur. You wouldn’t be shaking in your big boy boots. My God, I could hear your poor knees knocking thirty floors down.” Lips pursed, her gaze boldly drifted down. I could have sworn she’d zeroed in on the exact spot where my dick slowly grew against my thigh. Not a virgin, after all. “I’m surprised you haven’t pissed your pants yet, Morrow. Don’t tell me you have stage fright.”

My eyebrow rose when she finished her little rant. It was cute at best. I swallowed my yawn.

“So that’s your plan? You’re going to appeal to what you assume is a fragile ego? I’m confident I’ll trample you, your childish dreams, and that chip on your shoulder if you don’t get the hell out of my sight.” When she didn’t immediately run away, I felt blood rush to my groin. The fact that I was in danger of pitching a tent pissed me off even more. “Why can I still see you?”

“I didn’t hear you say please.”

Silence descended over the room.

Neither Braxton nor I looked away from one another. I wondered who would break first when a masculine chuckle interrupted my plotting.

I knew without confirming that it hadn’t come from Loren or Rich. I couldn’t remember a time we weren’t on the same wavelength. Whatever I felt, they felt, and vice versa. Right now, I could feel them both as eager to get our latest stroke of bad luck the hell out of the room.

There was clapping as the laughter continued, and then Carl spoke. “I have to admit that I wasn’t sold when Ms. Sridhar pitched a female member of Bound.” My fists balled because clearly Bound had been the only one kept in the dark about Braxton. Carl continued speaking, unaware that his life was in danger. “I was even less convinced when this young woman walked through the door, but she’s managed to spark my interest at the very least.” To Braxton, who I wouldn’t allow him to see since I still stood in front of her, he added, “Young lady, you’ve done the impossible. You tied Houston’s tongue. That’s not a feat easily accomplished, even for me.”

I smirked even though that piece of shit was trying to threaten me. He didn’t want to risk tipping Braxton off that he was as crooked as they come. Carl was nothing without us, but he held on to the delusion that it was the other way around.

“Stay awhile,” Carl invited, making my heart drop into my stomach. Braxton looked like she’d disembowel me if I made a wrong move. If she did, my heart would undoubtedly fall at her feet. “We have much to discuss.”

My fingertips dug into my palms as I sat across from Carl in his high-rise office with Los Angeles bustling on the streets below.

“Find someone else.”

An hour ago, I would have been too proud to beg. I just couldn’t stop recalling the glow in Braxton’s eyes, along with excitement and wariness, as she signed her name on the dotted line. She was too goddamn eager, too unaware of what she’d done.

“Anyone else.”

It was pointless asking him to cancel or postpone the tour since he’d already refused. Carl had a bigger stake in this tour. It was also his last chance to squeeze us. We’d wised up a long time ago, and now his mission was to make us pay for it.

Behind his desk, Carl smugly sat back in his chair. The bastard knew this was a terrible fucking idea. It was the exact reason he’d signed off on it. I felt the ice growing at my fingertips and slowly crawling its way up my limbs.

This was not happening.

Braxton Fawn could not be our new guitarist.

“Why would I do that? She’s perfect.”

“You haven’t even heard her play,” I pushed through gritted teeth.

“I trust Oni. She found you.”

And I’ve regretted it every single fucking day. I kept those thoughts to myself because it was pointless to voice them when Carl already knew. He delighted in our misery. For five fucking years, he slept like a baby, knowing he had us under his thumb. We should never have signed that bullshit contract. I should never have been so weak.

Only one year to go.

The end of our world tour marked Bound’s hard-won freedom. After three albums and too much lost, the knowledge should have filled me with joy.

There was only one problem.

That could have gone better.

Despite the shitshow the meeting had turned into, I felt like I was walking on a cloud. I expected to walk through those doors with only a handful of empty promises. Instead, I was Bound’s new guitarist.

Bound.

Bound.

BOUND.

My arm throbbed where I’d pinched it the entire elevator ride down. I was expecting to wake up any moment now. I was trapped in an endless dream and wasn’t sure I wanted to leave. There was only one problem: America’s sweethearts turned out to be real douchebags.

I made it to my car parked in the building’s garage just as my phone vibrated, and a text appeared in a banner at the top of the screen.

Poison. 9 p.m. We need to talk.

—Oni

Groaning because this day was starting to feel like it would never end, I threw myself into my hooptie and headed straight home. Home was a cheap three-bedroom apartment in Mid-City, where I found my best friend and roommate sitting crossed-legged on our couch.

Griffin Sinclair reminded me of Nicola Peltz with her blonde hair, green eyes, and perpetual soul-searing gaze. Only with longer legs. Maeko, our other roommate and bestie, was nowhere to be found. Maeko had moved to Los Angeles with the dreams of becoming an actress, so I was hoping her absence meant she was at another audition. Unfortunately, with her Japanese-American heritage and the lack of diversity in Hollywood’s starring roles, she’d yet to land more than a small part, but she wasn’t giving up. Griffin and I wouldn’t let her.