The outer office where Ella sits is decorated with framed sheet music, and as I inspect them up close, I see they’re originals of songs I know and love. Even though they’re behind glass, I reach out and touch them, hoping some of the inspiration those artists felt passes to me. If I can keep from drooling all over my sister’s jerk of a boss, this is going to be the best day of my life.
I’m so happy, that I start to sing under my breath.
Chapter 2
Tate
I’m poring over numbers, completely confused about why the last two acts we debuted aren’t doing as well as expected. Not relatable? Not authentic? I snort. Of course, they’re not. Everything in the industry these days is a copy of something else. There’s nothing original anymore. All anyone seems to want is a pop star with fake looks and an autotuned voice. It seems the most popular musicians these days are the ones with the most off-stage drama. No one seems to care about themusicanymore.
My business partner, Ava, says I’m jaded. Maybe she’s right. One thing’s certain, it’s been a long time since I’ve been transfixed by a voice, and I’m almost desperate to break free of the monotony this industry has become.
On top of that, my assistant is being oddly chipper today. Normally I barely know she’s around, which is the way I prefer it, but she keeps popping her head in, asking if there’s anything more she can do. I sent her to another floor to fetch some reports that I don’t need just to get some peace. But now, she’s back, asking me what she should do next. Ella’s worked for me for almost a year, longer than any other assistant I’ve had. She’s lasted so long because she’s quiet and efficient. She doesn’t talk to me or ask a million questions. I can’t imagine what has suddenly gotten into her. Whatever it is, I hate it.
“Just tidy up the outer office and stage the conference room before the VIPs get here.”
“Oooh, VIPs? Exciting,” she says as she scampers out of my office. Seriously, what was in her breakfast this morning?
I go back to reading the depressing album reviews, trying to figure out what might be salvageable from this group, or if I should scrap the next single altogether. A few minutes later, I hear soft, angelic singing. It’s none of my artists, and I don’t think it’s recorded. Since when does my assistant sing? She barely speaks.
My initial instinct to tell her to shut the hell up is squashed when she hits a perfect high note, even while singing quietly. I slide to the door and see her reaching up to dust the records hanging on the walls, her silky blonde hair falling behind her shoulders in golden waves. Damn, when did Ella get so sexy? Her perky breasts strain at her blouse as she reaches, and when she hops down off the stool, she switches to a different song.
Her voice is breathtaking. Pure, but with a slight vibrato that gives it emotion. She bends over to pick up the wastebasket behind her desk, and I’m enthralled by her ass. It’s as perfect as her voice—full, lush, and begging for me.
Jesus, what’s going on? Not only can Ella sing, but all of a sudden, she’s a goddess that I’m craving to touch? I let out a low growl before I can stop myself, and she stops singing abruptly.
She gives me a bright smile before asking, “Is there something I can do for you? I already set up the conference room with some refreshments. I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee started, and I turned on the electric kettle in case anyone wants tea.”
“You can sing,” I say in response.
Ella gasps, then shakes her head quickly. “N-no, no, I can’t.”
“I just heard you, don’t lie to me.”
“That wasn’t me. I, um, was listening to something,” she says, holding out her phone.
“Prove it,” I demand.
She looks from me to her phone and back again, biting her bottom lip. I nearly groan. I’d give almost anything to be the one biting that lush mouth.
“I can’t. I closed out of the app when you walked up. I don’t know who the artist was,” she says, and she is a horrible liar. Her cheeks flush a pretty pink color, and she shifts a little on her feet.
I study her for several tense moments, before deciding to let her go. Surely, her voice wasn’t as mesmerizing as I’d imagined. I’m just desperate for something new. Instead of interrogating her further, I turn on my heel and return to my office, slamming the door behind me.
***
Several hours and one mind-numbing meeting with a spoiled pop princess later, I’m ready to head out for the day. I’ve got a splitting headache, and I just want to sink onto my sofa and drown the memories of today with a glass of whiskey. But as I’m packing up my office, I realize that I left the demo of this afternoon’s recording session in the studio. I’ll need it first thing in the morning, so I decide to just retrieve it now. Normally, I’d have Ella get it for me, but I don’t trust anyone in the studio alone, and she’s already gone for the day anyway.
When I reach the studio, I’m immediately furious. The lights are on, and it’s clear someone is in there since the red “recording” light above the door is lit up. What the fuck? I thought I was the last one in the office. Who would dare use the studio without my permission?
I barge into the control room, ready to shut off the recording and rip into whoever thought they could get away with using my equipment uninvited. But I stop dead when I look into the live room through the window over the sound board and see Ella standing with her eyes closed, singing her heart out.
The volume in the control room is turned down low, but I recognize her voice as the one I heard earlier. As she sings, both her face and her voice bear so much emotion, I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest. The melody is as haunting as the words, and I’m fully entranced by her sad song. It’s a soft ballad about the loss of a loved one and the desire for just one more chance at a stolen goodbye. I’ve never felt that kind of loss, but her tone and the lyrics having my ice-cold heart feeling like it might shatter. I don’t think I’ve ever been so affected by a song before. It’s one I’ve never heard, and I wonder if she could have written such a masterpiece herself.
Tearing my gaze away from her, I look around the sound board for any indication where the song might have come from. There’s some sheet music on the desk against the adjacent wall, and I pick it up. It isn’t the song she’s currently singing, but a quick skimming of the lyrics shows it’s every bit as good. I look over the bars of music and realize this song requires an impressive range that few artists are capable of. I immediately want to know if she can manage it. It’s another ballad, titled,Dreams Can’t Always Come True. Beneath the title is a name, Dani Cartwright.
Wait,Cartwright? That’s Ella’s last name, but who is Dani?
It hits me all at once. A few months ago, Ella had asked for the afternoon off to visit her sister for their birthday.Theirbirthday…as in hertwinsister. I hadn’t paid attention to her phrasing at the time. Since I was going to deny her request anyway, I didn’t much care what her plans would have been. This must be the twin sister. I almost laugh, except I’m pissed that these girls think they can get one over on me like this.