Emmie gave an indelicate snort. “This group? No way. They are rowdier than any other clients I have. I don’t know what I was thinking, agreeing to all of them in one city at the same time. We’re going to have to hit the ground running every day. I’m going to apologize in advance for all the craziness this week is going to hold.”
I shrugged. “Sounds like fun to me. Lyric said you have two Italian clients and one Russian?”
“And one Korean,” she confirmed. “I have another translator coming in for him, but you will be helping with the other three. Unless you speak Korean, too?”
The hopeful look on her face made me laugh again. “Sorry. I only speak fluent Russian, Italian, Spanish, and American Sign Language. Asian languages are something I want to learn, though.”
“Well, maybe Park Min Gi will teach you a little this week.” She lifted her cup of coffee, studying me over the top of her mug. “As soon as breakfast is over, we’ll get started. They’re up in the penthouse having breakfast there, but I wanted a meal with you before all the bullshit started.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I can keep up.”
She studied me for a long moment, and not for the first time, I got the feeling she could see beneath the surface. Past all my defenses Anya had made sure were reinforced over the years. Then she smiled and gave a small nod. “I know you can. That was why I asked Lyric to extend the job offer to you. He trusts you, and I trust him.” Her lips twitched. “Well, as long as he isn’t around his twin brother, I trust him.”
I couldn’t contain my laughter at her amendment. Having met Lyric’s twin on a few occasions over the years, I could understand her misgivings about trusting either of them while together. Mila and Luca’s wife, Violet, were constantly kept on their toes when the two guys were together. Ian and Isaac were already a handful, but I could foresee them getting worse as the years progressed.
Emmie handed me a stack of papers. “This is our itinerary for the week, but it is always subject to change. I’ll text you with any updates as I receive them.” She took another sip of her coffee. “And Lyric told me you have family here in the city. Please just let me know when you will be visiting them. I won’t micromanage your time like I will be doing with the rockers, but I would feel better if you let me know your whereabouts since you’re only seventeen and under my protection.” She gave a small shudder. “I adore your mother, but I’m sure you will understand when I say that your dad makes me a little…nervous.”
I lifted my gaze from studying the itinerary for that day, giving her a grim smile. “Yes, I understand. He can be a little intimidating. But really, he’s kind of a pussycat.”
“I’ll take your word for it, sweetheart,” she said with a half smile.
The morning seemed to fly by. After breakfast, Emmie introduced me to all four of the international rockers she had recently signed. Park Min Gi was from Seoul, Korea, and lived up to the K-pop hype that I’d seen some of my friends at school getting into. Only, he was a rocker, so I guess it was more of a K-rock hype. I didn’t know, and I didn’t really care. I just liked looking at him, because the guy was possibly the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life.
Second most beautiful. Because even as dreamy as Park Min Gi was, he couldn’t stand up to my idea of perfection that Ryan was.
The three rockers I would be translating for all week kept me busy from the moment I walked into the penthouse. Laura Consoli had an expensive-looking guitar in her hands, holding it like a baseball bat as she swung it at Franco Rossi’s head, screaming and cursing at him in Italian. While Garik Kipelov sat at the dining table encouraging her to “kill the motherfucker” as he shoveled waffles into his mouth.
The guard named Marcus grabbed her from behind, while Rodger carefully tried to pry the guitar from her hands. A difficult feat since she was still swinging it.
“What is she saying?” Emmie asked at my side as we watched the shitshow.
I quickly replayed the scene through my head that we’d walked in on. “Rossi wanted to know if Laura’s er…if the curtains match the drapes is a less crass way of saying it.” It was a little more complicated than that, but it was all Emmie needed to know before she was walking up to Rossi and grabbing a handful of his hair at the back of his head.
She was a smaller-sized woman, taller than me by several inches, but more slender than I was for sure. Yet she dragged the six-foot-two-inch rocker into the sitting area and flung him onto the couch.
“Nova, translate for me,” she commanded, not taking her eyes off her client as she got in his face.
Rossi rubbed at the tender spot at the back of his scalp as he glared up at her.
“I don’t give two fucks what your last manager put up with,” Emmie seethed. “I’m not them. I will throw your dumb ass in a dumpster somewhere and then help the cops look for you.” He started to sneer back at her, but she grabbed his hair again, jerking his head back so hard, his eyes began to water. “Don’t believe me? Try. Me. I will drop your ass if you don’t respect others. Especially the women you will be working with. I don’t care what their job position is. I don’t care how old they are. I don’t give a single fuck how innocent you think the disrespect may be. You want to make a name for yourself in this country like you did back in Italy? Then behave yourself, or I will put you on a plane back to Milan.”
I quickly translated everything for her, and she stepped back. Rossi’s eyes skirted from her to me, narrowing as they skimmed over me in a leering kind of way that had me rolling my eyes.
“You need me a hell of a lot more than I need you,” Emmie continued. “This is your only warning.” Her gaze went around the room, taking in the other three rockers. “The only warning any of you will get. Behave and respect one another. You want to kill one another? Do it when you get home.”
I repeated everything in Italian and then Russian for Garik’s benefit.
Solemnly, Emmie crossed to where Marcus was still holding Laura with her arms locked over her chest. “Are you okay?” she asked in a softer tone. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” Laura grumbled in Italian, and I quickly translated for her as she spoke. “Only insulted me.”
“Next time, come to me first. I won’t allow him to harass you in any way.”
After a few deep breaths to calm herself, Laura gave a nod, and Marcus finally released her.
“Nova, you should introduce yourself,” Emmie instructed, taking the guitar from Rodger and inspecting it. “Then we should get going for the first set of interviews.”
It only took a few minutes to let them know who I was and that I would be helping to translate for them, even though I was sure they had already garnered that small detail.
“Your Russian is flawless,” Garik praised when we were in the back of a van on the way to the first radio station. “Who taught you?”
“My best friend,” I told him evasively. “He taught me Italian as well. He comes from a multilanguage home.”
On the drive over, I took a moment to observe the three I would have to work with all week. Laura was tall and slender, with glossy jet-black hair that was dyed in a rainbow underneath, and startling blue eyes. Her voice was on the raspy side, and I wondered if she would sound more like Janis Joplin or Stevie Nicks. Rossi was verging on skinny, reminding me a little of Steven Tyler with his long hair and the way he always seemed to want to take his shirt off.