Free Fused (Lost in Oblivion #4.5) by Cari Quinn, Taryn Elliott Page B

Saturday night as well, just as he had in the old days back when they’d bonded through movie and video game weekends. Now it was early Sunday afternoon, and she’d asked him to stick around until after she spoke to her boss. He’d agreed.
    She’d hoped she could forestall this extremely rash move. So much for that. Rash moves were basically her standard operating procedure these days. Might as well roll with it.
    “She laid out some pretty significant terms,” she added when Donovan merely waited for her to continue. “She drives a hard bargain.”
    “Whatever she asked for, make it happen. Did I fail to make it clear how much I want to secure Molly on our roster?”
    Inwardly, Lila sighed. And maybe seethed a little. Normally she didn’t mind Donovan’s high-handed tactics. He got things done, and they were both similarly focused on the business at hand. But she was growing pretty damn resentful of being told what to do and micromanaged in every facet of her life. First with her husband, then with the career she’d given her life to. Now she had Nick getting in her face and scrambling her hormones.
    You own me just as much.
    She didn’t believe him. She couldn’t, because if she allowed herself to, she would end up spilling everything about those photos. She’d ask about the redhead, and tell him that they’d have to cool it until her divorce was final. Not really cool it, of course, because she didn’t think she could last another week without feeling his hands on her—
    “Lila?”
    She inhaled. Work. Right. She had a purpose to fulfill, and it wasn’t to dwell on her sudden need to make up for a lifetime of sexual deprivation.
    “She wants to front a band. If I can’t present one to her that meets her standards pronto, she’s going to walk, and Tolino was circling pretty hard after the show.”
    “Make it happen,” Donovan said again. “Do you need me to scout for you?”
    “No, of course not. I said I could do it, and I will.” Without glancing away from Donovan’s icy blue eyes on her laptop screen, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Michael had stopped playing his ski racing game. She’d bought the console and games for him months ago, hoping he might stay over for a night or two like he had in the old days.
    The circumstances sucked, but at least they’d gotten to talk this weekend around the landmines of drama. Last night, they’d dropped into bed after sharing some fun family stories and laughing late into the evening.
    Separate beds, thank you very much, Crandall .
    They’d cleared the air about the pictures, and Michael had promised to ensure his friend destroyed the data. He’d also vowed to be a little wiser in picking his associates in the future.
    But she had another favor to ask him, and it wouldn’t keep much longer. She’d put it off until the last possible moment. Once Donovan disconnected from their Skype call, all pretense of a happy reunion would be off the table.
    “I’ve heard rumors that Luc Moreau from The Grunge might be replaced. You could try putting some feelers out in that direction.”
    “What?” Lila stopped plotting world domination—or at least her corner of it—long enough to concentrate on Donovan. “What kind of band replaces their lead singer?”
    Whereas the members of Oblivion would fight to the death to hold onto theirs. Loyalty was forged in the narrowest spaces.
    “One that wants to succeed and unites to kick him out.” Donovan tapped his steepled fingers together. “Luc’s become a problem. He’s getting too much media attention for all the wrong reasons. He’s a hothead. Hotheads always get their comeuppance eventually.”
    She gave her boss a thin smile. She was no dummy. Donovan was also jabbing at Nick. She’d heard him called that by people who didn’t understand him once too often recently. Not that he wasn’t one. Oh, there was no doubt there. The way he’d stampeded into her apartment after finding Michael at