Chapter3
876 Words
Elena's POV
I stared at the business card until the sun came up.
Adrian Knight. CEO of Knight Records. I'd googled him on my cracked phone screen, using the coffee shop's wifi before they shut it down forever. Forbes 30 Under 30. Youngest billionaire in the music industry. Heir to a fortune that could buy and sell entire city blocks.
And he wanted me.
At 11:47 AM, I called the number.
"Elena Rivera," his voice was crisp, professional. "I was wondering if you'd call."
"I... yes. About your offer."
"Are you interested?"
I closed my eyes, Papa's voice echoing in my memory. Keep singing, mija. Never stop singing.
"Yes."
"Good. I'll send a car to pick you up. Where are you staying?"
Heat flooded my cheeks. "I'm at the McDonald's on Sunset Boulevard. The one near the old theater."
A pause. "You've been sleeping rough."
It wasn't a question.
"Things have been difficult lately," I managed.
"Not anymore. The car will be there in twenty minutes. Black sedan, license plate KR001."
The line went dead.
Twenty minutes later, a sleek black car pulled up, and I slid into leather seats that probably cost more than I'd made in six months at the coffee shop. The driver was professional, silent, and took us into the hills where the houses got bigger and the air got cleaner.
Knight Records was housed in a gleaming tower that reached toward the sky like a middle finger to gravity. Everything was glass and chrome and money. So much money I could smell it in the air conditioning.
"Miss Rivera?" A beautiful woman in a business suit met me in the lobby. "Mr. Knight is waiting for you in the executive conference room. Forty-second floor."
The elevator ride felt like ascending to heaven. Or hell. I wasn't sure which.
Adrian was standing with his back to me when I entered, looking out over Los Angeles like he owned it. Maybe he did.
"Punctual," he said without turning around. "I like that."
He was even more intimidating in daylight, wearing a suit that probably cost more than my father's car. When he finally faced me, those gray-blue eyes seemed to see right through me.
"Have you eaten today?"
"I'm fine."
"That wasn't what I asked."
I looked down. "No."
He pressed a button on his desk. "Sarah, have lunch brought up. Something substantial." Then, to me: "Sit."
I perched on the edge of a chair that could have doubled as a throne.
"Tell me about your experience."
"I... I sang at my father's coffee shop. Local events. Nothing professional."
"Training?"
"Self-taught, mostly. My father helped when he could."
"Your father." Adrian leaned back, studying me. "What happened to him?"
The question hit like a physical blow. "He died. Three days ago."
Something flickered across Adrian's face. Sympathy? Calculation? I couldn't tell.
"I'm sorry for your loss. Is that why you were singing in the alley? Grieving?"
"The coffee shop was demolished the day he died. I lost everything." The words came out flat, emotionless. I'd cried myself empty.
Adrian was quiet for a long moment. Then: "I'm going to be direct, Elena. I need to win the Best Record Label Award this year. Not want. Need. My entire future depends on it. I believe your voice, properly developed and marketed, could be the edge I need."
"And what do I get?"
"Everything." He slid a contract across the desk. "One year exclusive contract. Fifty thousand signing bonus, twenty thousand monthly salary, full medical and dental, luxury apartment in Beverly Hills, personal trainer, vocal coach, stylist, and security detail."
I blinked. The numbers were so large they didn't seem real.
"At the end of the year," he continued, "assuming we win the award, you get another hundred thousand bonus and complete creative control over your next album."
"And if we don't win?"
"We will." His confidence was absolute, almost frightening.
"Why are you being so generous?"
Adrian stood, moving to the window again. "Because I always get what I want, Elena. And I want that award."
Something in his tone made me shiver. Not fear, exactly, but awareness. This man was dangerous. Powerful beyond anything I'd ever encountered.
"There's one more thing," he said. "You'll be attending industry events with me. Award shows, charity galas, business dinners. You'll need to learn to move in my world."
"Like a date?"
He turned, and for just a moment, something hungry flashed in his eyes. "Like my protégé. My investment."
The word stung more than it should have.
Lunch arrived – real food, more than I could eat in two days. While I devoured salmon and asparagus like I was starving (because I was), Adrian watched me with an expression I couldn't read.
"One year," I said finally, touching the contract. "Then I'm free to go?"
"If that's what you want."
I thought about Papa, about his dreams for me, about sleeping in alleys and counting pennies.
"Where do I sign?"
Adrian smiled, and it was sharp as broken glass. "Welcome to Knight Records, Elena Rivera. Your life just got very interesting."
As I signed my name, I felt like I was signing away more than just my voice.
But I was desperate enough not to care.
- Writer
