Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Lee spoke first, and he spoke softly, “And it all makes sense.”
I quickly rushed out, “It says nothing about you, I swear. I-I just don’t listen to the radio or read trashy tabloids or even watch a lot of TV.” I was beginning to sweat. And hyperventilate. “I’m sure you guys are great.” I was panicking. “Just great.”
“We are,” Connor stated.
“Ah, don’t sweat it, little bird,” said Hell. “It’s all good.”
“It’s kind of refreshing, actually,” added Lee.
Um, huh?
They weren’t mad?
My eyes darted from man to man.
Okay. They weren’t mad.
My heart rate began to slow.
What a relief.
I tried to steady my breathing when my focus turned to the framed silver record mounted on the wall. “Is this yours?” I asked, sliding my backpack off my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, approaching the plaque slowly.
“Yeah.” This was Lee.
I read the record out loud. “Left Turn. Black Death.” But then I kept reading. “Platinum album. In recognition of over one million album sales.” My eyes widened and I turned back to them, blinking. “One million album sales?”
They just smiled.
Connor, however, did not.
“Wow,” I said shakily. “That’s amazing.”
Oh no.
These guys were a big deal.
This tour was a big deal.
Not only were they beautiful people—they were famous beautiful people.
Big deals.
My heart began to thump all over the place to a lively jazz beat that no one other than myself seemed to hear.
I turned to the framed picture beside the record, and what I saw made my stomach flip-flop. It showed the back of the band and the crowd they performed to. “That’s a lot of people,” I stated feebly.
“Wembley Stadium,” Hell explained. “The first concert sold out so fast we had to book another show.” There was so much pride lining his voice but I was too busy freaking out to share in it.
My stomach clenched painfully and I felt the blood begin to drain out of my face. “That’s so cool,” I said, but my voice wavered.
My breathing got heavy.
Another framed picture. I raised a shaking finger. “Noah?” I stated weakly, near panting, “That’s you.” I could feel the beads of perspiration forming at my temples.
“Hey.” He was beside me in an instant. “Are you okay?”
My hands shook, as I whispered, “I think I need to sit down.”
Noah guided me to the sofa and I sat still, trying to control my breathing. A glass of water was thrust into my hands. I drank the whole thing in one long pull and some of it dribbled down my chin. As I sat there, staring down at the shiny white coffee table, I muttered, “You guys are big. Like, famous.”
And then it hit me.
It hit me hard.
Groaning, I raised my hands to cover my face. “Oh my God. You must think I’m the biggest idiot.”
Noah sat beside me, rubbing my back. “No.”
Connor laughed. “Yeah.” I spun to face him. “It just hit ya, didn’t it? You’re in the presence of greatness and you don’t know how to feel.”
I was embarrassed and because I didn’t like how that felt, I couldn’t help but glare at Noah. “You lied to me.”
He looked into my eyes. “Like you lied at the interview?”
My face gave me away before I had a chance to. “How did you know?”
“A simple check told me you didn’t come from either of the agencies we hired.” His expression begged me to disagree and when I didn’t, he smiled. “You weren’t meant to be there, Emily.”
“Then—” Shame burrowed its way into my chest and sat there like a rock. “—why did you interview me?” More importantly, “Why did you hire me?”
“Because not only did you fit the role better than anyone else—” He paused a moment then smirked. “—but it took balls to do what you did. I figured if you were desperate enough to gatecrash an interview without knowing anything about the job, you needed the work.”
Truthfully, I was glad it was all out in the open. Still, it didn’t make me feel any better about what I’d done.
It wasn’t in my nature to be dishonest.
A sudden cringe took me by surprise. I wrung my fingers together. “I am so sorry.” My cringe transformed into a wince. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t think you’d actually hire me.”
“Do you still want the job?”
Noah waited patiently for an answer.
God. I didn’t want the job.
I needed this job. I needed it so badly.
I peered up at him, nodding. My voice was small. “Yes.”
“Great,” stated Noah, helping me stand. “Then let’s go upstairs, finish the paperwork, and Amber can lay down what the role of assistant actually entails. Sound good?”
Did that sound good?
A small smile forced itself onto my lips. “Sounds great.”
Noah held out his arm and I used him as a crutch. Just as I reached for my backpack, he stated, “Ah, just leave it. No one will take it.”