Rocking The Billionaire (A Rich List Romantic Comedy Book 1) Read online

  “What happened?” He was by her side in an instant, slipping his arm around her shoulder. “Are you okay? Who was it?”

  “Lex Baine.”

  “What?” Jackson’s grip around her shoulders tightened. “What did he want?”

  “He offered me a pile of money and a record deal. I assume he wanted me to sell him your secrets, but we didn’t get that far.”

  “What did you say?”

  “What do you think I said? And how the hell did he get my number?”

  Jackson shook his head. “Private investigator, maybe. That’s what I’d do.”

  “Would you threaten someone to try and get his secrets?”

  “He threatened you?” It was such a furious snarl that Meghan swallowed.

  “Not really.” She was reluctant to repeat exactly what Lex had said. A complete stranger knew her career had gone nowhere and figured she’d be easy to bribe. Maybe that fact shouldn’t be so humiliating, but surrounded with all the trappings of Jackson’s success, it made her burn with frustration and shame.

  His jaw was clenched, and she could see him struggling to get his anger under control. “I’ll get you a drink,” he said finally.

  ‘Getting her a drink’ turned out to involve calling for one of his crew to serve them. Why was it that everything he did highlighted how different their lives were? How he’d made it and she’d achieved nothing?

  She moved back to the cockpit so she could sit down, and by the time she’d asked for a soft drink and the crew member had put a tall, icy glass on the table next to her, her shock at Lex’s words had changed. It had crystalized into an icy resolve. Lex had said she’d never make it as a singer unless she took his offer. Well, she’d just have to prove the asshole wrong. As soon as they got back to Sydney, she’d put her plan in action. No matter what Lex did to try to stop her, she was damn well going to get a record deal. And she’d do it on her own.

  Jackson sat next to her. “The color’s coming back to your cheeks.”

  “When we get back to Sydney, I’ll move out of your place. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to start asking around at the bars and clubs to see if I can get a regular gig somewhere.”

  His brow creased. “Where has this come from?”

  “I need to stop messing around and go after what I want. I recorded some songs at your place, but I’m not good at mixing or mastering them. If I save a little money, I can hire people to do that for me. I have a few songs on YouTube, but I’ve put nothing up for ages, and my website’s a mess. It’s about time I got serious about building some kind of following.”

  “I know some people who’ll work with you to do that. And Ellie could give the songs you recorded to someone at her record label.”

  “No.” She could tell he meant well, but her self-esteem had taken enough of a battering. “I don’t need a hand-out. Thank you, but I want to do this on my own.”

  “You don’t have to do it the hard way.” His words were chillingly like Lex’s. When she didn’t answer, he frowned. “Why can’t you accept my help?”

  “If Ellie gives my demo to someone, they might string me along because they don’t want to let her down. And if something good happens, I don’t want to have to wonder if I really deserve it.”

  “Of course you do.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. There’s only one way to be sure, and it starts with getting a steady gig somewhere and building enough of a name for myself to get a studio interested. In the meantime I’ll use the money you gave me to get set up in a place of my own.”

  He leaned back in his chair and picked up his drink. “Lex said something to make you want to leave,” he said flatly. “What was it?”

  “Nothing. It’s just time to go, that’s all.” She picked up her own drink to avoid his gaze, and sipped it looking out to sea. She could tell he didn’t believe her, but she couldn’t tell him about Lex’s threat to end any chance she had of ever having a real career.

  Jackson was at the top of the mountain, and she was still floundering at the bottom. Once she’d at least scaled some of the foothills, things would be different. With a job, a home, and at least some hope she might one day be able to make her dream come true, maybe she’d be able to face him as more of an equal.

  Okay, ‘equal’ might be stretching it. She was never going to have a yacht, an island, or any of the other things he had. The only thing she did have was her pride. And she refused to let that go.

  She dragged in a breath. The hollow feeling in her stomach she’d had since Lex’s phone call was worse than ever. What if the only way she could hang onto her pride was to lose Jackson?

  Eighteen

  Standing on the sidewalk in front of the bar’s entrance, Meghan looked up at its name. The Rusty Frog. Cute.

  “You’re a lucky amphibian,” she murmured to herself. “Because you’re getting a new singer today, whether you want one or not.”

  It had been three days since she’d moved out of Jackson’s house. It had taken her forty-eight hours to rent a flat and get some basic furniture. Then she’d started traipsing the streets looking for work. This was the fourteenth bar she’d tried today, and she was sick of being turned down. Enough was enough. This time, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  She squared her shoulders and shifted her guitar case into the other hand, readying herself to go inside. But before she could move, her phone rang. She tugged it out of her pocket and peered at the screen, but didn’t recognize the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Don’t hang up,” said a familiar male voice.

  “Trey.” He must have used somebody else’s phone to call her, knowing she wouldn’t pick up a call from him. “What the hell do you want?”

  “I need to see you, and it’s important. You’re in Sydney, right? So am I. Tell me where you are and I’ll meet you.”

  She let out an incredulous laugh. “You think I want to see you? Are you delusional? Or do you want to get your cheating, lying, thieving ass kicked into next week?”

  “Meghan, please, just give me a few minutes. Believe me, you’ll want to talk to me when you hear what I have to say. It’s good news for you. Tell me where you are, and you won’t regret it.”

  “If you have news for me, you can tell me over the phone.”

  “I have something to give you.”

  “You stole my song.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I want to make it up to you.”

  “How can you ever make that up to me?”

  “Please, Meghan, I just need a minute or two. I swear, it won’t take long.”

  She sighed. If she refused, she’d always wonder what he’d wanted to give her. “This had better be good, Trey.”

  “It is.”

  “I’m at the Rusty Frog in Paddington.”

  “That’s about half an hour away. I’ll see you soon.”

  She hung up, already wondering if she’d made a mistake. No time to think about it now. Sticking her phone back in her pocket, she walked into the Rusty Frog.

  The place was nice enough, though it was empty except for a couple of guys sitting at a table by the window, drinking beer and talking. A Bowie song was playing at a decent volume, which was a good sign. The bartender was a man in his forties. His face was a little careworn, but he was nodding his head in time to the music. An even better sign.

  She set her guitar case next to one of the bar stools before sitting and ordering a soda. As the bartender poured her drink, she gave him a friendly smile.

  “My name’s Meghan,” she said. “Are you the owner?”

  He nodded. “I’m Steve.”

  “I’m a singer, Steve. I’m good at it, and have lots of experience gigging in bars. I’d like to play here, and I think your customers would enjoy it.”

  Steve shook his head, placing the drink in front of her. “No thanks. I play music through the stereo, and we have a juke box as well.”

  “Give me a chance and I’ll get the place
pumping. More customers will come in when they hear me, and they’ll stay longer.”

  “We tried a singer once, but it didn’t work out. This is an after-work place, and the people who come here want to talk. If the music’s too loud—”

  “It won’t be too loud, it’ll be just right. And did I mention I’m good? Give me a chance and I’ll show you what I can do.” She was already bending to get her guitar out of its case. She stood up with it and put the strap over her head. “I’ll sing you something right now. If you hate it, I’ll leave with no harm done. If you like it, how about I play here tonight? I’ll work for free the first time, and we can talk about making it a regular gig once I’ve proven how good it will be for your bar.”

  “Meghan, was it?” He leaned against the back of the bar, his arms folded. “I wish I could help you out, Meghan, but our customers like the juke box. They’re not into listening to live music.”

  Meghan strummed her guitar. “Just put Bowie on pause while I sing one song, and if you don’t like it, I’ll stop bugging you about it.” She gave him her best grin. “One song that’s just for you, Steve, then I’ll drink my soda and leave you a generous tip. What do you say?”

  He laughed, bending to switch off the stereo under the bar. “All right. You’re on.”

  It was a snap decision to play Rebel Rebel, the Bowie song he’d just been listening to. But he had been nodding along to it. And her version was more husky and sultry than Bowie’s. She slowed it down and made it sexier, lingering over the line, ‘Hot tramp, I love you so’.

  When she finished the song, not only did Steve clap, but the two guys at the table by the window gave her a standing ovation. She grinned as she bowed to her unexpected audience, then turned back to Steve.

  “So, what do you say?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “The after-work crowd starts coming in at five. Let’s give it a shot then and see how it goes. I can’t make any promises until I’ve seen how they react.”

  Meghan wanted to leap over the counter and kiss him. “Thank you for giving me the chance.” She couldn’t help but pump a fist.

  He held up both hands. “Hey, don’t get your hopes too high. Like I say, we’ve had a singer before, and it didn’t work out.”

  “This time it will.” She picked up her soda and toasted him. “Cheers, Steve.” Then she checked the clock. It was just after four o’clock. She could get set up and do a sound check while the bar was still quiet.

  “Hi Meghan.” Trey’s voice came from behind her.

  Way to ruin her celebration. She turned, feeling her smile drop. “Trey,” she said, her voice curt. “You’ve got five minutes. I’m starting a timer.”

  “You have every right to be angry, but will you hear me out?”

  “Over here.” She motioned him to a side table where they could talk privately.

  He slid into the chair she indicated with the casual grace she remembered all too well, and dropped his satchel bag onto the floor next to him. If the world were fair, he would have developed a disfiguring disease after cheating on her. Nothing life threatening. Just a sickness that made all his hair fall out, or his teeth go black.

  But no, nothing was fair, because he looked fit and healthy. Better than when they were going out, in fact. She sat opposite him and clutched her soda, glowering at the evidence that suggested there was no such thing as karma. Trey looked relaxed, his hair was thicker than ever, and he had a tan like he’d just been on holiday. Success obviously agreed with him, and he didn’t look the least bit guilty about having stolen her agent and her song to get his record deal.

  But at least there was one good thing about having to sit opposite the lying, cheating scumbag one more time. She had the satisfaction of confirming that compared to Jackson’s square jaw and intense eyes, Trey’s face looked weak and dull.

  What had she ever seen in him?

  “You look great,” said Trey. “And you’ve got your guitar with you. Are you heading to a rehearsal?”

  She dragged in an aggravated breath. “What do you want, Trey?”

  “To give you this.” He pulled some hundred-dollar bills out of his pocket and laid them on the table, fanning them out so she could see how many there were. “Five hundred dollars to start with, but there’ll be more. Lots more, I hope.”

  She frowned, staring at the money as he pushed it to her side of the table. “What are you talking about?”

  “I used your song, and you deserve a cut of my earnings.”

  “You stole my song.”

  “Yes, I did.” He met her gaze. “I’m not proud of it.”

  “And now, what? You’re afraid I’ll sue?”

  “You can’t sue me. You didn’t copyright the song, and it’d be my word against yours that I’m not the one who wrote it.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Then why come here with money?”

  “I told you, I feel bad. I wouldn’t have done it, but… I mean, I found it in your notebook, and your songs are so much better than mine. When Ariella said she could get me in the door at Warner, I knew I’d only get one shot to impress them. One chance to make it. I needed that song.”

  “How is Ariella?” asked Meghan, with bite in her tone.

  At least he had the decency to redden. “I’m sorry about that, too. But you know what it’s like better than anyone. When you’ve been slogging away at this business for years, earning minimum wage, you get desperate.”

  “As badly as I want success, I could never do what you did. Never.”

  “I know.” His mouth twisted. “You’re a good person, Meg, and this is a cut-throat business. You’re talented enough to make it, but you’re too busy playing by the rules.”

  “Why did you sleep with Ariella? Because you liked her, or so she’d get you a deal?”

  His hesitation was all the answer she needed. But she wasn’t sure it made her feel better. It just showed what a bad judge of character she must be to date someone who’d do something that low.

  “She didn’t get me the deal.” His tone turned defensive. “She just got me in the door at Warner Music. They wouldn’t have signed me if I hadn’t blown them away. And sure, I used your song. But the rest was all me. The singing, the look, the attitude.” He flicked his fringe back from his face. “I’ve worked hard to get a single in the charts, Meg. I may have grabbed a couple of questionable opportunities, but I still deserve it.”

  Meghan drained her soda and put the empty glass on the table. She’d heard enough of his excuses to turn her stomach, and besides, it was time to set up for her gig. First, she picked up the money from the table and put it in her pocket. Yeah, he disgusted her, but she wasn’t stupid.

  “Wish I could say it’s been nice seeing you again,” she started, getting to her feet. But he held up one hand to stop her.

  “I’m giving you ten percent of future earnings from the song.” He reached into his satchel bag and pulled out a stack of paper. When he put the papers on the table she saw they were legal documents. “This spells it all out. The contracts need your signature, but after that you’ll never have to see me again if you don’t want to. The money will go into your account every month without you having to do a thing.”

  She sat back down, staring at him. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  His brow furrowed as though he were offended. “Please, Meghan. Let me buy you a beer and talk you through the papers. You can take them to your own lawyer to check them over, but he’ll tell you the same thing. There’s no downside to this.”

  “I can’t have a beer. I’m about to play a gig here.”

  “Then let me buy you a virgin cocktail. You should be celebrating, and I’m sure the bartender can make you something nice.”

  She nodded, not because she wanted another drink, but because she needed a few minutes to catch her breath. Could he be telling the truth?

  While he went to the bar, she turned the pile of l
egal documents toward her and scanned the topmost page. In spite of all the legal jargon, it did seem to be what he was suggesting. With the song in the charts, ten percent of his earnings could be a decent amount. If he was being straight with her.

  By the time he came back to the table carrying a beer and a fruit punch, she was ready with the one question she needed an answer to.

  “You say you’re doing this because you feel bad about stealing my song?”

  He nodded, sitting down and pushing her drink toward her. “I want to make it up to you, Meg. For real.”

  “It’s not because you want me to write you some more songs?”

  He flinched. Then he spread his hands with a slow, apologetic shrug. “You know me too well, babe. I said I was giving you the money with no obligation, and I mean it. But yeah, I can’t deny that I’m hoping you forgive me enough that we can at least talk about it.”

  She snorted. “Figures you’d have an ulterior motive.” But she flipped over to the next page of the documents to scan it. Strangely enough, knowing why he was being so generous made her feel more comfortable that the papers were legit. And wouldn’t it be madness to turn down ten percent of a success he couldn’t have achieved without her?

  “You’re a brilliant song writer, and I have a whole album to record. Can you blame me?”

  She glanced at the clock, then picked up the papers. “I’ll drop these to my lawyer later. Right now, I need to get set up for my gig.”

  “Mind if I stick around for a while? I’d really like to hear you sing.”

  “I’m sticking to covers today. No original songs. Nothing for you to steal.”

  He shot her a sheepish grin. “Hey, I’ll stick around anyway. You never know, right?”

  Nineteen

  “Excuse me, Mr. Brent.” Freya put her head into Jackson’s office. “Your operations manager is here to see you.”

  Jackson checked his watch. Five o’clock. He’d been about to leave, to see Meghan. She’d moved out three days ago and was being cagey about what exactly her plans were. He’d had to give her the space she’d asked for, but still needed to know she was okay.