Chapter 5 CHA

"Have you found my bag?" I put a hand to my face in an effort to stifle the yawn. It is noon, and I have had only two hours of fitful sleep on the luxurious bed in the villa.

"Sadly not." The airline lady recites the lines of yesterday about refund as I fall onto the bed and lay the phone next to me.

I look longingly at the nightstand, where my pill bottle would otherwise be. Other than my belongings, the only thing I've claimed in this room is by tossing CASS LYON's suit jacket over the lampshade until I have any idea what to do with the thing.

Then I phone my attorney, and she tells me there's no apparent loophole to get me out of this contract and avoid the damages set forth in-which I never thought I'd find myself a position to even consider.

I'm stranded in Florida with no options, my pills... even a bleeding razor.

The jet lag is screwing with my head.

My workout outfit was in my carry-on bag, so I grab my sneakers and the skinny jeans from yesterday.

A glance in the mirror on the dresser and my hair's a knotted mess of messiness. I mess it all up into a ponytail before I peer out into the hallway. No one in view.I don't look very much because the only thing that I ever spend money on is a roof and flight tickets between gigs, both of which are handled by the venue.

However, the balance is lower I'd like.

I scroll through the activity recently.

One repeated automatic payment from last month-almost upon us for this month-makes me curse.

I call up a number on my phone, thinking and gnawing on my lip as I wait for the line to pick up.

"Hello, cousin," I say when it does.

"Hey." Rustling sounds over the line like Callie's rolling out of bed.

Ever since we were kids, we used to make fun of actually greeting each other properly. We lived a few hours away from each other and only got to see one another at family gatherings and the holidays. We weren't allowed to have cell phones until high school, and we weren't allowed to use our computers to text.

We did, naturally, but we pretended to oblige for the sake of fooling our parents.

I haven't had a close relationship with my parents or brothers since high school. Callie's the closest I have to family, and although we don't spend time together on a regular basis, she's the only one who's stuck around me since I was a child when I actually needed someone.

I am sitting in the West LA apartment where she lives with a roommate as I bring the phone to my ear to hear more noises surrounding her, the signs of her health. "Are you working this week?"

"Um, I'm not sure." More noises, as if she's rummaging around.

My cousin is normally happy and inquisitive. Her response makes me refrain from pulling over, continuing on the trail so we don't get flattened by tourists or runners. "Listen. I'm calling because I might not have the money this month."

I hold my breath awaiting her protest, or dismay.

"It's okay," she says, not minding about anything.

"You don't need it?"

"We need a whole lot more. Something we were counting on didn't work out. I don't know if we're going to make it this time."

Alarm causes my fist to tighten around the phone. "How short are you?"

She exhales. "Twenty thousand."

Shit.

I don't stand a chance of having that kind of ready money, even with this deal.

"Can you borrow money?"

"I've tried. We just received an eviction notice.".

The sun is equally bright, but with the dog leading me down the path, my legs are bricks.

"Your landlord won't throw you out, especially with what's happened."

"He doesn't care. I'll be spending the next week packing.".

I've been trying to figure out how to leave Florida with my honor intact, but my chest aches when I think of Callie, the only one who's ever had my back.

When I help her, it's because I want to and can. Not because she asks me."I've warned you, if you break the contract, I'll sue you."

"I'd like to renegotiate."

His mouth snaps shut.

"You've spent enough on makeovers for CLODY. Take twenty-five percent of the door for a month and I'll cover it."

He folds his arms across his chest, the blue material straining tight across hard muscles. How his eyes narrow as he snaps so easily into business mode is fascinating as well as intimidating. "Because you can do what my PR firm can't?"

I mirror his stance. "Clearly.".

I'm bluffing. Publicity is not my style, unless you count publicly going down in flames as publicity. But he can remain blissfully ignorant about that.

"And if you don't?"

"I don't get paid. But when you get paid, I get paid."

Something prods at my thigh, and I look down to see Barney squirming between us, tail thumping.

"Ten percent," CASS LYON replies when I bend to scratch the dog's head.

"Twenty. And I'm moving to other housing."

"Fifteen, you're staying, plus I get three requests of my choice."

His tone is so neutral that my jaw drops. This guy acts like he gets his way.

"What did you say by requests?"

"Any requests," he answers curtly. "If I insist that you clean the pool with your thong as a filter, you will."

My fists are clenched at my sides. "I'm not a genie in a fucking bottle. Clean your own pool."

CASS LYON turns his back. "Then there's no deal."

The rejection is abrupt and cold-blooded.

I don't understand his game plan. Another mystery about the already-puzzling man before me.

But I do know that what he wants is to have me in a corner.

"Requests of this sort don't involve other people," I say at last, and his head cocks.

"Only you."

The manner in which he utters those two words sends shivers down my spine.

"Eighteen, plus your inane demands," I retort.

His blue eyes glare at me with a ferocity that makes my ribs creak.

We shake hands, and a jolt of electricity shoots up my arm as he does so.

He withdraws first. "I'll have my lawyer send a fresh copy of the contract. I want your signature on my desk by the end of today. And my jacket."

My head jerks up to meet his mocking face. "You knew you'd get it back. That's why you gave it to me."

"It's Brioni." He talks like it's a formula."You're unbelievable. Controlling, demanding, manipulative... No wonder your fiancée left you."

His fist clenchs on the leash and when he speaks, his voice is deep and menacing. "Be careful what you say when you still want things from me."

A knock on the door is followed by a rapid entrance on the part of the housekeeper.

"Ah, perdón!" she says when she sees us. "I notice you and Señor Lyon becoming friends." She is either unaware of the tension or ignoring it. "I figured señorita would like to know her suitcase is in her room."

My heart takes flight. "The airline found it?

No, CASS LYON interrupts. "The stuff spilled out when we took it out, but I hope it's all there."

He found my suitcase when the airline couldn't. By what, some form of billionaire black magic?

Relief rolls over me, but it's momentary when I think about who did it.

His voice rings in my head to the door. "You can buy replacements for any of your lost luggage and charge them to my account, with one exception. I will not tolerate my employees to be on any type of drug."

Son of a...

"And don't forget my jacket."