I scrawl my signature on the line, and it’s done. Homegrown Records is mine.
We agreed to the initial terms of the deal the day Holly walked out on me in New York. I was so caught up in negotiations that I didn’t stop to take her call. Those negotiations were critical, heavily featuring her and her contract, and the fact that during the weeks between signing and closing, the execs couldn’t do a goddamn thing that would negatively affect her. It was a rookie husband mistake that almost cost me more than losing the deal would have.
But having both of those fuckers at the table in front of me brought out a protective side of me I never knew existed. With every snide comment about how they lifted Holly out of some sad existence and gave her a shot through their show, I grew more and more determined to have their resignations in my hand.
She was a girl who didn’t know better and had nothing to lose when she signed their heavy-handed agreement. Knowing Holly now, they could have put anything in that contract, and she would have agreed to it just to have a shot at her dream. The fact that they continued to jerk her around with the JC situation was unconscionable. They deserved to be tossed out of the industry, in my opinion.
“Hope you know what you’re doin’, boy.”
I look up at Morty, the paunchy executive I’m tempted to have blackballed from the industry starting today. His threats over what he could do to Holly’s career had me wanting to rip his throat from his neck during negotiations. The fact that he’s trying to bait me just shows what an idiot he is.
“He doesn’t have a clue what he’s doin’,” Jim, Morty’s sidekick, says. “All he knows is this is the surest way to own that woman lock, stock, and barrel. You think she’s going to be happy that you did this? Mark my words, she’ll want your balls in a sling.”
I pin them both with a glare that would have smarter men shaking in their fancy, spit-shined cowboy boots. “You’re dead fucking wrong about my motivations, and if I gave a shit what you thought, I’d correct you. But since I don’t, I think it’s time you hand over those resignations and get on your way.”
I shove the final documents aside, not concerned in the slightest about his prediction. Holly will understand that this has nothing to do with ownership or control, and everything to do with setting her free from these pricks who’ve been running her life. And if she doesn’t get that, then I’ll help her understand.
The men stand, Morty glaring daggers at me and Jim looking amused, but I don’t give a fuck. I don’t waste another thought on them as they exit the room. I just want to go home, kick back on the couch with my wife in my lap and a beer in my hand, but that can’t happen anytime soon, thanks to the charity event I’ve committed us to.
Once the room clears of lawyers and the former record execs, Cannon and I are left alone. He wastes no time.
“Well, Crey, I think you got a hell of a deal, but I don’t think you know what you’re doing either. We have to learn this industry from the bottom up, and we only scratched the surface during diligence.”
He’s been on hand to sign several of the documents in his capacity as vice president of the new entity I formed for the sole purpose of this acquisition. One not under the umbrella of Karas International, like all of my other companies. One that I own one hundred percent of personally, because never before has an acquisition been this personal to me.
“Is that supposed to be news to me?”
“I’m just saying—”
“Everything you’ve already said before. And it’s getting old.” I rise out of the leather conference room chair and tuck my pen into the inside pocket of my suit jacket. “I have a beautiful woman waiting for me, and if I get home in time, she might still be strolling around the house in her lingerie.”
Cannon smirks at me. “Now there’s a thought.”
“Get it out of your fucking brain.”
He holds both hands up in a pacifying gesture. “Jeez. I’m just fucking with you, Crey. No different from what we’ve always done.”
I stiffen when I realize that even my best friend doesn’t get it. “She’s different. Everything about this is different.”
“Come on. You didn’t even know the woman when you posted that ludicrous ad. It’s only been a couple of weeks. There’s no way in hell you can know that it’s different.”
There have been several times in the past when Cannon and I haven’t seen eye to eye. If we can’t settle things with a logical discussion, we usually opt for beating the shit out of each other in a boxing ring. I open my mouth to argue, but snap it shut just as quickly.
I don’t need to justify this to him; I don’t even need his fucking support. I know what I’ve got with Holly, and that’s not changing, even if his opinion doesn’t.
I turn and leave the room with his confused “What the fuck, man?” following me out.
Holly is already wearing her dress for the charity event when I enter the bedroom. She’s absolutely breathtaking, and I can’t get over what a lucky son of a bitch I am.
If sex could be painted on a body, that’s what this dress would be. Red satin, hugging her every curve from her shoulders to just below her knees before it flares into a little mermaid-looking thing. I have no earthly idea how the fuck she’s going to walk in it, but I don’t care. I’ll fucking carry her.
She’s surveying herself in the mirror when her eyes dart to mine in the reflection.
“What do you think? Should I wear the black one?” She motions to the long black dress hanging from the valet rod in the closet.