Dirty Diana by January James

Chapter Seventeen

“Diana,” Magda whispered down the phone. I could hear her breath, shallow, at the other end. “He’s going to call you any minute. I had to warn you. As soon as he’s done with McAuley Finch…”

“Is it about the restructure?”

“No,” she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. “It’s about the concert. He wants it cancelled. I’ve never seen a man so angry. He’s livid, Diana. Are you really sure about this? I know you want to keep Phoenix going, but… I wouldn’t want to make such an enemy out of him.”

He was livid? I was livid. I was in the midst of co-creating the biggest and best concert since Live Aid. The exposure it was getting, not just for Phoenix, but for Empirical Records too, was unprecedented. And he wanted me to scrap it? What kind of a CEO was he?

“I’m available to see him whenever he wants, Magda.”

“What are you going to do?” She whispered. I could hear the fear in her voice.

“Nothing,” I replied. “Absolutely nothing. This isn’t costing us any money so it can be extra-curricular if that’s what he really wants. I’ll even take Phoenix’s name off the branding—everyone already knows we’re behind it anyway. He can’t stop us all from doing something in our spare time.”

“You’re playing with fire, Di. Please be careful.”

“Magda, you’re such an angel to me, letting me know this. But I have nothing left to lose. If he’s already decided I’m gone, what’s one little concert going to hurt?”

“It’s anything but little, Di.”

I grinned from ear to ear. “I know.”

* * *

I stoodoutside Jude’s door, having been summoned, as Magda had predicted, almost immediately after his meeting had ended. Unlike the previous few times I’d been asked to come here, I was calm. I was finally proving to myself I could actually do this. It had taken four years and the threat of collapse to get me here, but here I was. Everything that had led up to this point since the announcement—the UnSigned campaign, the #savephoenix campaign, the #savephoenix fund (which was now worth three million dollars), and the plans for the Madison Square Garden concert—had only solidified my self-esteem. I felt more confident than I ever had before.

My teams and my artists treated me with the respect I’d finally earned, and each had separately expressed their admiration for my tenacity. I was like a dog with a bone, fighting for their livelihoods and the integrity of the music industry with every ounce of energy I had. And it had been contagious.

Everyone around me now lived and breathed these campaigns. It was no longer just a job. It was a cause, a way of life, and they loved it. The Phoenix offices were vibrant—the edgy sound of unsigned acts played throughout, and the aesthetic had become brighter; people were no longer dragging their feet to work in the same old black jeans and t-shirt, as though they were about to attend a funeral. The corridors had become catwalks for people expressing their individuality loudly and proudly, and I encouraged it. Much to the curiosity of the McAuley Finch team who’d seemingly taken up residence in our techy basement. If I didn’t know their true reasons for being there, I would have thought they were enjoying the banter, the music and the general buzzy atmosphere.

“I don’t have the capacity to deal with this now,” I heard him say. “We can look at it later. I have someone… something… more pressing to deal with right now.”

I straightened, knowing this was my cue. I waited a couple of beats and then knocked at the door.

“Come in.”

I pushed open the door and held my breath. Despite the fact weeks had passed since Jude had first graced our corridors, I still couldn’t help the visceral reaction I had every single time I saw him. My heart raced, my palms dampened and beads of sweat threatened to erupt from every pore.

He waited for the door to close and then he let rip.

“You’ve tested my patience to the limit, Diana. I’m done being nice to you…”

“Nice?” I spat. “You think you’ve been nice to me? In what world is threatening to close down my business, fight me to the end and have fun doing it, nice?”

“Cancel it. Now.”

“No.”

“It’s not a question. It’s an order.”

“And the concert has nothing to do with Phoenix Music, so you have no authority to instruct that.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” His fists were balled and I knew that if I were a man, I would be risking those knuckles cracking against my jaw right about now.

“It means that I’m taking the Phoenix brand out of it completely, so it has nothing to do with you or Empirical Records.”

“That’s bullshit. It’s obvious Phoenix is behind it. It’s our acts that are playing...”

“…of their own steam,” I snapped, ramming my hands onto my hips to punctuate the point.

He turned his back to me and stomped across his office to a filing cabinet. He pulled out a copy of the New York Times then strode back towards me and held an article up in my face.

“This,” he hissed, his face bearing down on me, “is not ‘nothing to do’ with Phoenix. The brand name is sprinkled all over this like fucking seasoning.”

“That was an interview Randy gave. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Randy,” he sneered. “You two are best friends now, are you?”

“What does it matter? We’re working together on something amazing. Something meaningful. Unlike you.” I batted the newspaper away and brought my face up to his so he could see just how damn angry I was. “You! You just rip everything apart, don’t you? You can’t see that what we’ve created with this campaign is revolutionary; it’s breathing life into music again. And all you can do is tear it down.”

His eyes narrowed; I knew he was listening. I’d got him this time, and I was on a roll.

“Does it bring you pleasure, huh? Do you enjoy ruining thousands of peoples’ lives?”

He began to shake his head but I continued, unabated.

“You are sick, Jude. Sick. Is it because you can’t create anything yourself? You’re like a child with no toys. You’re jealous you don’t have any of your own so you go around smashing up everyone else’s. Well, you’re not having mine…”

Before I could vent the entirety of my rage, his hands grabbed my face and his mouth came down on mine, fast and furious. My gasp of shock was swallowed by the aggressive movement of his lips. His tongue invaded me, blocking out any other sound. My hands pushed at his chest but he wouldn’t budge. I needed air. His hands moved down quickly to dig into my hips, lifting me up against the door. My legs moved instinctively around his waist just as they had the first night we spent together. I had no control. His kiss overpowered me, telling me wordlessly that I wouldn’t ever be free of this torture.

After an eternity, he pulled back, grabbing my face in his hands once more, as though I might turn it away from him. He stared into my eyes, searching.

“I can’t fucking do this,” he whispered, but he didn’t move away.

Then I realized what he was searching for. My desire. He needed to know I still felt something for him. It was as though we were existing in parallel dimensions. In one world we were arch enemies hell-bent on bringing each other down through whatever means necessary; in the other we were glued to each other, physically and emotionally. I felt more for him in that moment than I’d ever felt during our encounters at the Decadence Club. I decided to give us what we both desperately needed. I reached my own hands up and gripped the back of his head, pulling him towards me, and I kissed him back.

This time it was slow, intense and meaningful. Our tongues explored each other, our hands holding each other gently. It was as though everything around us had stopped. We were in some time warp where the world was no longer relevant. We weren’t both fighting for opposing things; we were fighting for one thing and one thing only: this. I tipped my head back as his lips found my throat and a delicious moan escaped me.

“You’re driving me insane,” he whispered, reaching my collarbone and pulling my shirt open with his teeth. A hand came down to pull the lace of my bra, exposing my breast while his other hand locked the door. His tongue found my nipple and circled it, drawing another moan from my lips, and I gripped him tighter with my thighs. I had no words to answer him with.

My fingers ran through his hair, tugging gently, manoeuvring his head this way and that, drawing out the sensation of his mouth roaming my breasts. I had needed this. Needed him. He dragged his face back up to mine and brought his lips down softly, teasing me again with his teeth and his tongue. He swallowed another moan and then he stilled.

Frozen.

I knew it was over. I knew he was going to back away.

He did it slowly. He pulled back, grazing his teeth along my lips, biting down at the very end in a delicious nip. Then he placed a soft peck against the skin that now stung. A hand glided across my buttocks, smoothing out the imprints his fingers had left when he’d hoisted me up, then he held me as my feet dropped to the floor.

He turned and walked back to his desk, then he sat down and faced his computer screen. I was glued to the floor. My legs were like jelly and I was turned on to the point I couldn’t move.

“We’re both just going to have to do what we have to do,” he said, softly. “I hate fighting with you.”

“I’m not going to stop until I get what I need,” I said, in a quiet voice.

“I know.” He looked at me then, his eyes unusually warm. “And neither am I. But, regardless of whatever we each have to do, I need to be able to handle… this,” he said, casting his eyes down my legs and back up my torso to my face.

My smile was bittersweet. In another life we could have had each other; we could have followed through on that eruption of need. He would be fucking me right now against the door, and I would coming for him with everything I had.

“Come with me,” I said, before I could talk myself out of it. “Come to the concert.”

He sighed and gave me a half smile. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not? They’re your acts too at the end of the day. It might even do your reputation some favors. You know, have people see you’re making a real effort to understand what we have to offer, before you have to make the difficult decisions. You’re appreciating the music scene; you’re not just some suit hired to break up the party.”

He seemed to consider it.

“Please, Jude,” I said. “Do it for me. For everything you’re not able to give me.”

His half smile fell, then.

“In another life I’d give you everything.”

The breath left my lungs and my chest hollowed. It took an enormous amount of strength to hold myself together.

“I’ll have a pass waiting for you backstage,” I finished.

Then I turned, unlocked the door and walked out of the office of the man I’d just fallen illogically and inexplicably in love with.