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“I know you want to understand why I left such a high-profile job. There’s a lot to it.…It was a highly personal health issue and I just don’t—” She broke off, tears filling her eyes.
Henry turned his hand over under hers and held hers loosely in his grip. He understood about secrets and personal issues. He could hold off for now, but before too long he would know all of Astrid Taylor’s secrets. HR had screened her and wouldn’t have hired her if there was anything untoward in her past.
“Very well. Tonight you are going to meet Steph Cordo. Part of your role will be to act as an assistant to my stable of artists until they hire their own people,” Henry said.
“Right. I’ve done that type of work before. I can handle that.”
“I know you can handle it, Astrid. You’re very adept at doing what needs to be done,” he said.
She flushed. “My sister says it’s a gift.”
“Really? Why?”
“Um…I was always a bit of a suck up when we were younger. But being nice does open doors,” she said with a wry little grin.
“Indeed.”
Henry noticed he was still holding her hand. He stroked his thumb over her knuckles and watched her face. She flushed again and then pulled her hand back. She licked her lips, which were wide and full. Her mouth moved and he knew she was saying something, but for the life of him he couldn’t concentrate on her words.
All he could do was watch them move. Stare at her white teeth and very pink lips and wonder how her mouth would feel under his.
“Henry?”
“Hmm?”
“The waiter asked if we wanted dessert,” she said.
“Sorry, mate. I’m good. Would you like something, Astrid?”
She shook her head.
He asked for the check and Astrid excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. It was odd that the old man had decided to get in touch with him now, but Henry thought that the job at Everest was going to be a fun challenge.
He’d long since stopped thinking of Malcolm as any type of relation. The man had sent gifts at birthdays and Christmases over the years, but Henry didn’t really know him. He’d always been a sort of Dr. Who character that came in and out of his life with no real notice.
But Henry felt the need to know more about him now. Malcolm held the key to any future success his team would have because of the will. His BlackBerry rang and he glanced at the screen. Henry had a firm policy of not talking on his cell phone when he was out with another person.
Alonzo, one of the men he paid for tips on new bands, sent a text message that he had a group that Henry should check out playing later in the evening at a club a few blocks from where they were. Henry noted it.
He wasn’t one for letting any leads slip by him. Maybe that was why he hadn’t had a problem transitioning from rugby player to entrepreneur back when he’d first retired.
He glanced up as Astrid was walking toward him and simply watched her. She moved like many women did when they knew a man was watching. Her hips swayed languidly with each step and her arms moved by her sides.
“You’re staring at me, boss man.”
“You’re a very pretty girl, Astrid.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Thanks, I think.”
“You think?”
“Is it a genuine compliment, or are you just buttering me up for some nasty assignment?” she asked.
He shook his head as he stood. He put his hand on the small of her back and directed her out of the restaurant. He knew she didn’t need his hand on her to figure out which way to go, but he wanted to touch her. There was something…almost irresistible about her.
“It was genuine. If I ask you to do a task you find distasteful it won’t be hidden in between something pleasant.”
She paused and glanced back at him. He stopped, and their faces were very close together. “Promise?”
“I promise,” he said. Before he could say anything else, a flashbulb blinded him. He turned to face the cameraman, but the person was retreating.
* * *
They met Roger McMillan, a friend of Henry’s, at the first club they entered. The place was crowded, as was to be expected, but they were immediately ushered to a VIP area cordoned off by velvet ropes.
Roger shook her hand and said something to her, but she couldn’t hear him over the music. She nodded and would have excused herself but Henry grabbed her hand and led them to a table in the back.
It was a little quieter and Roger introduced himself again.
“Astrid Taylor,” she said.
“She’s my assistant. You will be calling her every morning by ten with any new groups you’ve identified.”
“Got it. There’s not much going on here tonight. But the deejay has a tip for us on a hot new group. Once he takes a break, he’s going to come and meet us.”
“Sounds good,” Henry said.
“I’m going to make the rounds, see if there are any artists here tonight that you should meet,” Roger said.
He excused himself and left the table. Astrid realized that Henry wasn’t going to ease into his new job but had already hit the ground running. Unlike Daniel, he knew how to delegate. Henry wasn’t all about himself.
“Why are you watching me like that?” he asked.
“You aren’t going to follow Roger or send me after him?”
“Why should I? He knows what’s expected of him and he’s never let me down.”
She shook her head. “That kind of attitude is different.”
Henry nodded. “Everything I need to know about life I learned on a rugby pitch.”
“Truly?”
“Indeed. The first thing I learned is that if you don’t trust your teammates then you don’t trust yourself. You can’t be everywhere. So you must surround yourself with like-minded people.”
“So many people in this business are…elbows out. You know, always trying to shove themselves to the front of the line. When I worked for Daniel and Mo Rollins there was always a list of calls to be made just to make sure that people were doing what they were supposed to do.”
Henry leaned in closer. “Is that one of the reasons why you left?”
“No. It isn’t,” Astrid said.
Henry put his arm around her shoulder and drew her back against the banquette. “I can’t be successful until I know every member of my team—their strengths and their weaknesses.”
“I don’t have any weaknesses from my past that you need to worry about, Henry. I’m telling you everything you need to know about me.”
Henry stroked one finger down the side of her face and she shivered. She wanted to rebuild her life and she couldn’t do that if she was lusting after him.
“Let me be the judge of that,” he said.
It took just those few words to convince her that he wasn’t the easygoing guy he wanted the world to think he was. Henry Devonshire was a man used to getting his way. And right now that meant he was going to try to uncover her secrets.
Her secrets.
She had so many. And she knew there was no way in hell that she was going to trust Henry Devonshire with them. Men had let her down. Not her dad. No, her pop was a stand-up sort of guy. But the men—man—she’d met since she’d left home…Daniel Martin had broken her ability to trust. He had shown her that not all men rewarded her trust in them.
“Not just yet,” she said.
He nodded and sank back into his own chair. “You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t know you,” she said. That was one lesson she had learned. Not everyone she met had the same feelings of loyalty toward their friends that she did. And until she really had Henry’s measure as a man, she wasn’t about to trust him.
When she’d first started her affair with Daniel, she’d known it was risky to be involved with her boss, but the thrill of falling in love with someone as dynamic as Daniel had offset that. More than that, she’d also had her belief that Daniel was falling for her. And that made the risk more manageable—only after she found herself dumped by Daniel and pregnant with his child did she realize that her sense of loyalty was different than his.
“Point conceded,” Henry said. “What do you think of this deejay?”
“He’s okay,” she said. “His sound is very funky and modern, but there’s nothing to make him stand out from any of the other clubs.”
“I agree. He’s just one of the crowd, but he does have a good ear. We’re looking for artists who can stand out in the crowd whether they are loved or hated, as long as they are noticed. I’m going to chat with him and see if he has any tips for me.”
It was twenty minutes later when they left for a club in Notting Hill. Cherry Jam had a New York City feel to it. She saw two mates from her old clubbing days, and Henry nodded her off as he was dragged into a rugby conversation with Stan Stubbing, a sports reporter for the Guardian.
Molly and Maggie Jones were sisters who were only eleven months apart. Maggie, the older of the two, was actually Astrid’s age.
“Astrid! What are you doing here?”
“Working! I’m here to check out the bands.”
“I thought you’d stopped working for that record producer,” Molly said.
Astrid swallowed. She had become used to the questions about her leaving Mo’s organization, but she’d never really figured out a good answer. “I just started a new job with Everest Records.”
“Which explains why you are here with Henry Devonshire. He is one cute guy.”
“He’s my boss,” Astrid said.
“He can still be cute,” Maggie pointed out.
“True. What are you drinking?” she asked her friends.
“Pomegranate martini. Want one?”
“I’d love one,” Astrid said.
Molly went to the bar to get her one, and she and Maggie looked for a place to sit but the club was packed and the long, low tables were all full.
She glanced at the VIP area, where Henry had a table with Roger and a woman who looked familiar. He waved her over as soon he glanced up.
“Go on,” Maggie said.
“You can come with me. Henry won’t mind.”
“All right then. Here’s Molly with your drink,” Maggie said.
Henry was seated at the head of the U-shaped booth and Roger sat on one side. Astrid slid in next to the woman, Molly followed her and Maggie sat next to Roger.
“Astrid, this is Steph Cordo. Steph, this is my assistant Astrid.”
Astrid shook the other woman’s hand. She was older than Astrid expected her to be. Most pop singers seemed to be sixteen these days, but Steph was at least twenty-five. Her eyes said she’d experienced a lot of life.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You, as well,” Steph said.
“These are my friends Maggie and Molly Jones,” she said to the table.
Once everyone was introduced, Roger and Henry went back to discussing the music business and Astrid turned to Steph.
“Tomorrow we’re going to have a lot for you to do. Did Henry mention that to you?”
“Yes. He also said you’d be setting up an appearance at the Everest Mega Store.”
“I will? I mean, of course I will. We can talk about that tomorrow. When is the best time to reach you?”
“Anytime except the afternoon. That’s when I sleep.”
Maggie laughed. “I wish I had that schedule.”
Steph flushed a little. “I’ve always been a night owl, and my mum’s a nurse. She used to work the overnight shift when I was growing up.…I guess I developed the habit early of staying up to talk to her.”
“My dad worked nights for a while before he bought his own cabs. We used to have breakfast every morning before school,” Astrid said.
Her dad had been a cab driver while she was growing up. He still owned a cab but had hired another man to drive it when his health had started to fail. Her mum had been a stay-at-home mum while she and Bethann were in primary school, then she’d gone back to teaching.
“Me, too. My mates were always having dinner with their folks, but for us it was breakfast.”
“Us, too. When my dad got sick, that was the one tradition we kept to even when he was in hospital—Bethann and I would make sure we stopped by at breakfast time.”
“What was your dad in hospital for?”
