The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(87)

Blakely: Yes, Sir.





Another text comes in from my pet. It's an emoji face with heart eyes.

My cock grows harder. My pet loves playtime as much as I do.

Yep, life is perfect. Nothing could ever break us.





27





Blakely

One Month Later





"It's worth a try," Ears states.

Noah nods and slides onto the piano bench next to me. He hits a couple of piano keys and directs, "Try it lower."

"Lower?" I ask in doubt.

"Yeah, just humor me," he replies.

I shrug. "Okay."

He hits the notes, and I lower my voice, singing, "Love you." When I'm done, I turn to him. "Like that?"

He grins and pats my leg. "Yes, exactly like that." He glances at Ears. "You hear the difference?"

Ears grins. "Yep. Can you sing it like that on the next go-round?"

"Sure," I agree. It's a bit strange getting instructions on how to sing my lyrics. I've never had anyone give me suggestions, but everything Ears and Noah propose seems to make my songs better.

We go through another take, and I sing it how they want me to. I decide I like it better, as well.

Noah leans closer, asking, "How's that feel?"

I nod. "Good. I think you guys are right."

Ears chuckles. "I usually am, darling. I usually am."

I roll my eyes. I've gotten used to Ears's ego, and I spend lots of time laughing over some of the things he says.

The buzzer rings, and the recording box door opens. I turn, and Riggs steps inside. He pins his glare on Noah.

Noah stiffens, jumps up, and praises, "Good work, Blakely."

"Thanks," I say, wondering why he's acting so weird and why Riggs is staring at him like he wants to kill him.

Noah crosses his arms and asks, "Riggs, can we help you with something?"

Riggs demands, "We need to go through Blakely's schedule."

Noah's jaw twitches. He keeps his gaze on Riggs, then slowly grabs his phone out of his pocket. He swipes at the screen and states, "I have a dozen interviews lined up for her to promote her first single, 'Invisibly Broken.'"

"Did you decide on a release date?" Riggs questions.

"Next month," Noah affirms.

My butterflies take off. I'm still shocked this is happening. It's like all my dreams are coming true, and I have to give all the credit to Riggs.

My husband.

I study him grilling Noah, and my heart soars. He's taking care of all the issues I don't want to be bothered with so I can focus on my music. It's perfect.

Noah informs Riggs about the places around the country where he's scheduled me to do interviews or sing, and my head spins. Even with Riggs handling the business side of things, it's overwhelming to me.

Noah states, "She has a radio interview in Atlanta, and I booked her to open a concert two days later. I can stay there with Blakely, and she can meet some of my contacts over there."

Riggs shakes his head, "No. She must be back on the plane immediately after the radio interview. I'll fly her back to Atlanta in time for the concert."

Noah shifts on his feet, declaring, "It's Atlanta. It's known for its music scene. Surely you know this."

Riggs stands his ground, asserting, "Blakely has an important charity event that she has to come to with me."

I groan. "Riggs, you know I hate those events. It's just a bunch of rich people wasting money on their fancy food and $1000 bottles of champagne. They should take that money and donate it to the charity if they care. It's super hypocritical."

Arrogance fills Riggs's face. "Exactly. That's why everything has been donated to this event. Not a penny will be wasted."

"How's that possible?" I ask, not believing it. I've been to too many of these events with my parents. I know how they work and what these people expect.

"Because I've been planning it," he announces.

"Oh. I-I didn't know."

"Now you do. So why don't you ask me what it's for?"

"Okay, I'll bite. What's the charity?"

He briefly studies me, then lowers his voice. "It's for the L.A. Center for Addiction's new Blakely Fox-Madden Wing."

My heart pounds harder. I finally stutter, "A-a wing in my name?"

He nods. "Yes. And I've been planning this charity event for months—four, to be exact. And you can sing that night, as well. Give more people in L.A. a sample of your music. But you don't have to if you don't want to."

"No. Of course I want to," I blurt out.

Noah interjects, "This sounds great, but I can assure you the contacts in Atlanta we could meet with are going to be better than any new fans in L.A."

I raise my chin. "Noah. I'm coming back to attend the event with Riggs. I'll have to meet the people in Atlanta at a different time."

He huffs. "You don't just meet people on a whim, Blakely. They have schedules."

"It's not open for discussion," I state, holding my ground. It's something I've gotten better at executing. I blame Riggs.