Page 2 of Unleashed By Eden

“So as you’ll see, the contract is for a full ten months,” Megan continues. “The tour kicks off in Sydney at the end of this month, and finishes in the US at the end of the year.”

On the first page, I spot the list of cities. Sydney, Singapore, Stockholm, Lisbon, Madrid, Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin, Edinburgh, London, Dublin, Toronto, Milan, LA, and New York.

Fucking hell.

A smile spreads across my face. I’ve made it. I’ve finally made it. This right here is everything I’ve dreamed of. A major bucket-list moment.

Flicking through the rest of the pages, I bite my lower lip trying to contain my excitement.

“We just need a signature, when you’re ready.” She hands me a pen.

“So, who’s the band?”

I couldn’t give a shit who it is, but now that it’s really happening, I figured I should ask. All I know is that PrimeTime+ is making a documentary about a big-name band and Megan and her crew will be on tour with them, filming. I’ve been commissioned to document the whole process through my lens for marketing when the documentary drops the following year.

“Pulse,” Megan replies.

My head whips up.

“Excuse me?” I squeak.

“I know, right? A year traveling the world with the hottest band. It’s going to be amazing.”

I pull out my phone from my back pocket and tap at the dead screen . . . again. Shit. Serves me right for muting my brother’s messages. How did I miss the news that Pulse was doing a concert here in a month?

I pick up the pen and touch it to the page, but my heart stutters, my palms are slick, and the pen slips from my grip. It skates across the paper, leaving behind an illegible scribble.

“Is there a problem?” She eyes the mess I’ve made on the contract.

I shake my head. There’s no problem at all. Only that my brother manages Pulse. And his best friend, Carter Ashford, is the lead singer. The same man who left me drowning in humiliation by shoving me off his cock and wiping me from his life ten years ago.

I squeeze my eyes shut and draw a breath in through my nose, out through my mouth, fighting the ache that memory still drags up.

“No. No problem at all.”

I fake a smile and sign on the dotted line.

Chapter two

Violet

The black collar sits snug against my throat, but something feels off. In the mirror, I sweep my hair aside and find it twisted at the back. Adjusting it, I smooth it flat against my skin.

Better.

I tune out the commotion around me, the laughter and stories, the clinking of makeup brushes and hair straighteners as ordinary women transform into goddesses. The dressing room at Eden is always like this before Le Jardin on a Saturday, when the real money is made. When goddesses spend the night with their clients and make their fantasies come true. It’s glamorous and wild, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. It’s more than a job for us. It’s a transformation, a performance. For a few hours, we step into roles that blur the line between desire and reality.

Music pipes through the dressing room speakers, the usual endless loop of bubblegum pop. Ugh . . . Give me the heavy beats and elaborate guitar riffs of Pink Floyd any day. But after years at Eden, I’ve mastered the art of blocking out the soundtrack.

My focus is on my mouth, scanning the sharp edge of the deep red lipstick that contrasts with my pale skin for any sign of imperfection. Eden demands the illusion of effortless beauty. It’s anything but effortless; it takes hours to get ready.

I fluff out my long black hair, letting it fall over my shoulders. The diamond stud in my nose catches the light as I tilt my head, checking every angle of my makeup.

The clients at Eden often tell me I’m beautiful—some variation of “stunning” or “gorgeous.” But none of it sticks. No matter how much I’ve changed since I was a kid, all I see when I look in the mirror is a scrawny girl with bony shoulders and ears too big for her head.

Puffing out my cheeks, I exhale and straighten my spine. It’s almost time.

The heavy oak doors to the club swing open, and I step into the low-lit opulence of Eden. Black, gold, and crimson surround me. I breathe in Eden’s scent, completely addicted to it.