Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet Book 2) by Rowe, Lauren (grave mercy .TXT) 📕

implication of what Laila just said hits me. “You’re saying you haven’t bared your entire soul to me yet?”

Laila shakes her head. “I’ve told you how much I love you in words. But telling you how I feel in a song would be a whole other level.” She smiles shyly. “I’ve actually written a love song to you. I’ve been working on it for a while now, but haven’t felt ready to play it for you . . . until now.” She bites her lip. “Now that we’ve finally got the duet behind us, I’m suddenly dying to play it for you when we get home.”

My heart skips a beat as tingles skate across my skin. I’ve been feeling close to positive Laila will say yes when I propose to her tonight, but, somehow, hearing her say she’s written a love song to me, and is now ready to play it for me, obliterates any last irrational shreds of doubt I’ve been harboring. Laila is a true artist. Which means, although she’s damned good at expressing herself in words, it’s when she sings and plays her piano that her truest voice can be heard.

I take Laila’s hand and squeeze it. “I can’t wait to hear the song.”

My phone buzzes in my lap and I look down. This time, the incoming text is from my manager, Eli. When Laila and I first got into the car, I relayed Aloha’s message about her compensation package, and now, Eli is telling me he’s already in the midst of a back-and-forth with producers that makes him feel confident their next written offer, which will be coming shortly, will be in line with Aloha’s deal.

I plop my phone onto the car seat. “Eli says he’s sure the producers are going to offer me a deal in the range of Aloha’s.”

“Holy shit,” Laila gasps out.

“Have you told Daria what Aloha said?”

Laila shakes her head. “There’s no need. Daria is the one who negotiated Aloha’s deal. I trust Daria to get me whatever I’m worth.”

“No, babe.” I motion to Laila’s phone in her lap. “Text Daria and tell her you won’t take a penny less than what Aloha makes. Make that clear to her.”

Laila scoffs.

“Yes, Laila. Tell your agent to coordinate with mine before she responds to any offer. Tell her I’m instructing Eli not to take any deal unless the exact same package is offered to you.”

Laila’s eyes are wide. Her chest heaves, but she doesn’t pick up her phone.

“Laila,” I say, picking up her phone and shoving it at her. “Do it. Tell Daria not to respond to any offer until Eli gives her the green light. I’ll instruct Eli to get the best possible deal for me, nothing less than Aloha’s, and then tell the producers I’ll only take their offer if they give the exact same one to you.”

Her face flushed and her hand trembling, Laila takes her phone from me. “So . . . does that mean you’re willing to say yes to doing the show again—and for multiple seasons—if they pay you the same as Aloha?”

I shrug. “If they were to agree to pay me and you the same as Aloha, and also to leave us alone and not require any social media from us, then, yes. That is, if doing the show again, and for multiple seasons, is something you’d want.” That last part is a bit of theater. I’m one thousand percent certain Laila wants to continue doing the show. But why not give her the chance to talk it through?

Laila’s face is the portrait of a woman going out of her mind with excitement who’s pretending she’s not. “Well,” she begins, “I had a blast working with you this season. And I loved getting to spend time with Aloha, too. I thoroughly enjoyed working with my contestants.”

“You were a natural with them.”

“When Addison won, it was one of the best moments of my life.”

“I could tell.”

Laila sighs happily, apparently reliving the joy she felt for Addison when the young singer’s name was called. She continues, “Aloha loves doing the show and says it’s the easiest money she’s ever made. So, I think if we just had to show up each week and do the judge thing, the same way Aloha does, without having all that other crazy stuff hanging over our heads, we’d probably have a great time. The shooting schedule wouldn’t get in the way of our music. I’ve written my entire third album this past month, while still doing the show.”

I take in her sparkling blue eyes and hopeful expression. I’d never stand in the way of Laila getting to do this, and the producers have already made it clear they want both of us, as a package deal. Plus, if the producers truly do come back with money in the range of what Aloha gets, I’d be a fool to turn it down. Not only for myself, but because my continued exposure on the show will wind up lining my bandmates’ and manager’s pockets, too.

Laila adds, “I’d never want to force you to do something that would make you miserable, though.”

I squeeze her hand. “I could never be miserable doing anything, if I was doing it with you.” I pick up my phone and begin tapping out a text to my manager. “I’m telling Eli to be sure to coordinate with Daria on this. And not to bother me until they’ve offered everything I want.”

“Sounds good,” Laila says. She starts tapping on her phone. “I’m telling Daria to sit tight until she hears from Eli.” When she puts her phone down, she looks beside herself with excitement. In fact, she can barely sit still. “Well, damn,” she says, “I feel a whole lot better now about you not earning that bonus tonight. If we get this deal, that bonus will feel like chump change, huh?”

Shit. I was hoping Laila wouldn’t mention that stupid bonus tonight. Not when, unbeknownst to Laila, I’m going to propose to