Say You're Mine (The Gallaghers Book 1) by Layla Hagen (comprehension books .txt) 📕

Say You’re Mine

Layla Hagen

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Say You’re Mine

Copyright © 2020 Layla Hagen

Cover: Uplifting Designs

Photography: Regina Wamba

Copyright ©2020 Layla Hagen

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

Chapter One | Brayden

Chapter Two | Isabelle

Chapter Three | Isabelle

Chapter Four | Brayden

Chapter Five | Isabelle

Chapter Six | Isabelle

Chapter Seven | Isabelle

Chapter Eight | Isabelle

Chapter Nine | Brayden

Chapter Ten | Isabelle

Chapter Eleven | Isabelle

Chapter Twelve | Brayden

Chapter Thirteen | Brayden

Chapter Fourteen | Isabelle

Chapter Fifteen | Brayden

Chapter Sixteen | Isabelle

Chapter Seventeen | Brayden

Chapter Eighteen | Isabelle

Chapter Nineteen | Isabelle

Chapter Twenty | Isabelle

Chapter Twenty-One | Brayden

Chapter Twenty-Two | Brayden

Chapter Twenty-Three | Isabelle

Chapter Twenty-Four | Isabelle

Chapter Twenty-Five | Brayden

Chapter Twenty-Six | Isabelle

Chapter Twenty-Seven | Isabelle

Chapter Twenty-Eight | Brayden

Chapter Twenty-Nine | Five weeks later | Isabelle

Epilogue

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Chapter OneBrayden

Sasha had asked us to the meeting room in the label’s offices in Manhattan, which was a clear sign that she meant business. We only ever came here for three reasons: if a record underperformed, they were bringing a new person on the team... or to be scolded. Our team was complete, but the new album had barely come out, and Sasha had confided in me that the execs at the label weren’t happy with sales. The guys were also aware. Thomas, Lars, Harvey, and I were very tight. We’d formed GreenFire twelve years ago, when we were nothing but a bunch of college freshmen at NYU sharing a passion for music. We exploded on the international scene four years later. Ever since, we’ve topped charts in the US and abroad.

It’s been a roller coaster. We usually went along with whatever Sasha had to say, because she was our manager and had our back. We’d been backstabbed often enough to appreciate when we finally had someone who had our best interests in mind.

We hadn’t been to the meeting room in quite a while. We spent most of our time at the cottage, where we did everything from rehearsing to training to hosting parties. Now being in this building again, near Central Park, had me and the guys a little unnerved.

Sasha led us through the back door, as usual, and straight inside an elevator that brought us directly to the eleventh floor. The label only had offices on three floors; the rest of the building was full of offices of various kinds. I didn’t know how she pulled it off, but we never ran into a single person when we came here. Of course, we always had a security detail with us, just in case. Today’s bodyguard, Damien, remained at the door of the meeting room.

“As I told Brayden, the execs think the record sales should be better,” Sasha started.

We were now seated around a large walnut conference table in the meeting room with a view of Central Park. With her blonde hair pulled into a strict ponytail and the black-rimmed glasses, Sasha always appeared older than she was. She was the same age as me, thirty.

We were not an easy bunch to handle. Lars was the most hotheaded of the group, though Harvey balanced him out. Thomas used to be as hotheaded as Lars, but he’s calmer since he got married five years ago.

“Let’s release another single, then. Give people more of a taste,” I suggested. We’d only released three so far.

“No, they don’t think that’s going to help. They think your image as a band needs to change a little. You need to be more approachable.”

Lars cocked a brow. “Why?”

Sasha straightened the collar of her shirt. “Well, the research they conducted among your fans says they feel disconnected from you as a band. We live in the communication era, where everyone posts constantly about their life. Your fans expect that.”

“We like our privacy,” I said in a measured tone. We’d always been different from other rock bands: no drugs or scandals. At the height of our fame, everyone had wanted a piece of us. We didn’t like that, so we chose to keep a low profile when it came to our personal life. We owed our fans good music, nothing else.

“You don’t have to give that up,” she assured us.

“Then how exactly are we supposed to be more approachable?”

Sasha drummed her fingers on the table. “We don’t have clear answers. But I’ve asked a very skilled counselor to join us here today. We won’t be employing her counseling services, but she has a lot of experience with behavioral perception. I thought it might be more useful than a simple PR plan. It’s no pressure, just a first meeting.”

The guys started protesting all at once. I stared at Sasha, who stared right back with her “You’re in charge” look.

“We thought you’d want us to make more appearances,” Thomas said, voicing my thoughts.

“This will be more helpful. I’m going to bring her in.” She rose from her chair and left the room. She’d told me she wanted to try something out of the box, but I hadn’t paid attention. I needed time to process this and then sell it to the guys. She always called me the voice of reason in the group, but right now I was just as pissed as the others. We needed a heads-up before she threw this kind of stuff at us. They were going to eviscerate whoever came through that door.

Knowing Sasha, I probably had about thirty seconds to maintain order. I