Page 4 of The Perfect Melody

Cassie

The numbness followingthe altercation with Miranda follows me into the next day. I go through the motions of getting ready, then Ant accompanies me to the hotel’s gym where I automatically go through my workout routine in silence. We’ve only had a few hours of sleep—nowhere near enough—but I want to be in and out of the gym before it gets too busy. I’d skip it altogether, but I can’t be bothered dealing with another lecture about not ‘letting myself go’ if Miranda finds out. A couple of other hotel guests take pictures of me without asking, but nobody approaches me—I suspect Ant’s scowl has more to do with that than them choosing to respect my space.

A knock on the door to our suite sounds shortly after we return from the gym. Ant looks at me, and I shrug. He opens the door, revealing a member of the hotel’s staff and a cloth-covered trolley. Since I didn’t order anything and Ant looks as surprised as I am, this must be Miranda’s doing. Ant helps the server put the dishes on the coffee table, then makes sure the door is closed properly behind them when they leave.

I stare at the food, unimpressed. There’s a porridge topped with fresh fruit and some kind of nut butter, and a greensmoothie that reminds me of algae growing on a pond. My mother is absolutely responsible for this.

“I can’t believe she ordered nut butter on the porridge just so you wouldn’t be able to eat it,” Ant growls, voicing what I was already thinking. I’m allergic to nuts—not so badly that I’ll have a reaction being in the same room as them but eating them is off the table.

Picking up the glass of green sludge, I don’t bother replying. It’s not the first time Miranda’s done something petty like this, and it won’t be the last. This is punishment for last night. Honestly, it could have been worse, and if this little stunt means she’ll leave me alone until the party tonight, then I’ll take it. Bracing myself for what’s sure to be an unpleasant experience, I take a sip of the smoothie and gag. “God, how is it both runnyandchunky?”

Ant wrinkles his nose. “We can order you something else.”

Setting the glass down, I reply, “Please. You pick. I’m going to shower.”

Just as I finish brushing out my wet hair in the ensuite bathroom, my phone buzzes with an incoming call. There’s only one person who’d call me before nine in the morning, and I have no desire to speak to my mother before her presence is forced upon me this evening. She won’t like that I’m not answering, but I’ll lie and say I was still in the shower when she inevitably brings it up later.

Back in my bedroom, I pull on my sweatshirt from the night before and a fresh pair of leggings. I don’t have anywhere to be until the party tonight, and I fully intend to make the most of the opportunity to spend the day lounging around in comfy clothes without so much as a drop of makeup on.

Just as I’m about to poke my head out the door to ask Ant if my real breakfast has arrived my phone buzzes again. Sighing,I pick it up to silence it only to realise it’s not Miranda video calling me.

“Liam, is everything OK?” I ask, concerned. London’s an hour behind Paris, and it’s only just after seven here. Something must be wrong if he’s calling me so early.

“I’m fine. Don’t be mad, but Ant texted asking me to check up on you.”

“He shouldn’t have done that. I’m fine.” Liam’s brows arch towards his rumpled chocolate-brown hair. “I am.”

“Try that with someone who doesn’t know you so well.” He runs a pale hand through his rumpled waves, his light-gold tan having faded somewhat since his move back to England.

“I’m tired, Liam.”

“Me too, I just finished a night shoot for a commercial, so how about you share what’s wrong so I can go to bed.” Despite the firm words, his tone is soft and understanding. He’s had his fair share of ups and downs in the spotlight thanks to his breakout role on the TV showCountry Hearts.

The show is how we met—I talked Miranda into letting me accept a guest star role for a few episodes of the first season. At the time, I hoped the role would help me distance myself from my princess image, but the character I played wasn’t all that different from how people already saw me. She was a naïve server hoping to make it big in country music. Liam was one of the show’s leads, and his character—an already famous country star—recognised her talent at an open mic night and introduced her to all the right people who could help make her dream happen. My arc on the show ended when my character left to open for another, bigger artist on tour, but my friendship with Liam endured long after the season one promo ended.

The media tried to frame our spending time together as a budding romance, but our relationship has always been platonic. After a few too many people trying to get close to mefor the wrong reasons, I wasn’t interested in dating, and Liam’s heart belonged to a girl back home. Bailey’s a big part of the reason Liam moved back to England after his third season onCountry Hearts. While I miss having him nearby, I’m glad he’s finally making a go of things with his childhood best friend’s little sister.

“I really am tired—of all of it,” I quietly confess, taking a seat on the powder-blue duvet covering my bed.

“So take a break,” he replies as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world.

My laugh holds no humour. “Believe me, I’d love to. I was supposed to have a month off, starting today, but Miranda told me that’s not happening. I have the end of tour party tonight, then I fly to LA for a few interviews and appearances. After that, it’s back to Nashville to end the week with yet more interviews.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yep.”

“I know she’s your mum, but you need a new manager. Miranda doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

Flopping back against the mountain of pillows behind me, I let out a huff of air. “It’s not that simple.”

“No, but I don’t think it’s as complicated as you think it is either.”

“You realise she could destroy my reputation, right? All it takes is one interview from her saying I fired her for no reason after everything she’s done to help me succeed, and I’m done.”

“Not if you’re the one to speak out first. She doesn’t treat you well, you know this. So do half the people who’ve worked with you. Maybe not the full extent of it, but some. She’s controlling—way beyond the scope of her job—and she’s cruel.”

“Yeah, which is why she gets everyone to sign an NDA before coming near me.”