Fierce Overture

  Synopsis

  Music superstar Noelle Laurent refuses to record the music her producers have lined up for her new album. Prepared to break her contract if necessary, all Noelle wants is a chance to sing her own songs. Desperate, the producers bring in their CEO, business tycoon Helena Forsythe, who is infamous for not taking any prisoners. Noelle expects the CEO to be the company bitch everybody fears but she is not prepared to be so affected by Helena's formidable presence and charisma.

  For Helena, it's all about the money, so why change a winning game plan? However, when Noelle shows unexpected strength and courage in the negotiations, Helena knows she has to change her usual steamroller approach. Trying charm instead of brute force, Helena is blind-sided by her own unexpected feelings. When Noelle responds in kind, the stakes escalate for both women, who risk not only their professional futures but everything when it comes to their hearts.

  Fierce Overture

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  By the Author

  Course of Action

  Coffee Sonata

  Sheridan’s Fate

  September Canvas

  Fierce Overture

  The Supreme Constellations Series:

  Protector of the Realm

  Rebel’s Quest

  Warrior’s Valor

  Fierce Overture

  © 2010 By Gun Brooke. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-531-4

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: July 2010

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editors: Shelley Thrasher and Stacia Seaman

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Art By Gun Brooke

  Cover Design By Sheri (GraphicArtist2020@hotmail.com)

  Acknowledgments

  A published writer has many people to thank and acknowledge, which is great because that makes for a less lonely profession.

  I owe many thanks to my first readers, whose opinions matters more than they realize: Pol, Maggie, Jan, Wendy, Trish, and Sam. Thank you for all the hours of reading and pondering you’ve put in. Your feedback has been incredibly helpful.

  My publisher, Radclyffe, aka Len Barot, thank you for once again providing an inspiring base for me to grow as a writer. Shelley Thrasher, editor, is my rock, and we work so well together. BSB’s graphic artist, Sheri, and I collaborated on the cover. Thanks, Sheri, I love how it turned out! Stacia Seaman’s copy-editor/proofreader eagle eyes helped the book be as clean as humanly possible. Then there’s all the behind-the-scenes people working for Bold Strokes Books who all help in the process of bringing books to the reader—you guys are great.

  On a personal note, I want to mention a beloved spouse without whom I would’ve starved and despaired during the long and grueling winter of Sweden—Elon. Thanks for all the breakfasts in bed and general encouragement. I also want to acknowledge Malin and Henrik, my children, and my mother, Lilian. Without the therapeutic presence of my dogs, Jarmo and Seven, who faithfully warmed my legs and feet during several months of being bedridden, I would not have fared as well as I did.

  Of course, I want to thank my readers for being so faithful and supportive throughout the years. I can’t thank you enough. I hope you’ll like Fierce Overture.

  Dedication

  For Sami, my second grandson, who was born during the time I worked on this novel.

  For my mother-in-law, Edith Marie Bach, who passed away during this time.

  She was the best and always treated me like a daughter. I miss her so much.

  Prologue

  Two years earlier

  Noelle danced to the beat of the music in a breakneck rhythm. She was like a sparkling flame in her short sequined dress as her hips swayed seductively. She grabbed the microphone and yanked it from its stand with a feral toss of her head, her waist-long hair flowing around her with a life of its own.

  Helena watched her with more personal interest than she was prepared to admit. Noelle Laurent was the latest addition to Venus Media & Publishing, and it was no small feat to have snagged her from under the noses of her old record company and all the other bidders. Noelle was the hottest young star around, on a steady track to cult status. Helena had not yet had the pleasure of meeting her face-to-face, but was intimately familiar with her voice and performance.

  “Happy fortieth birthday,” someone purred in Helena’s ear as a woman’s slender arm circled her waist. “You don’t look a day over thirty-nine.”

  “You crack me up, Myra. Honestly, shut up. I want to listen to this.”

  “Ah. The scrumptious Ms. Laurent.” Myra Hollander, Helena’s lover more than twenty years ago and now a good friend, chuckled. “Of course, you want to check her out.”

  “It’s business.” Helena was lying and she knew it, but she’d never confess that to Myra. Myra knew all about Helena’s philosophy when it came to relationships. Short. Sweet. Bye-bye. To be caught gaping like this at a kid more than ten years her junior was embarrassing, which was another reason not to confess.

  “Of course.” Myra opened her mouth to continue, but a quick glance from Helena was obviously enough. “All right. All right. I’ll go see a girl about some punch.”

  Onstage, two other performers belonging to VMP had joined Noelle and they were now slowing the music, moving toward the corner where Helena stood surrounded by friends and employees. The band began to play the interlude to “Happy Birthday,” and to Helena’s dismay, the trio of young women shimmied down the four steps from the catwalk and approached her.

  “Happy birthday, Ms. Forsythe,” they crooned.

  They stopped right in front of her and kissed her on the cheek, one by one. Noelle was the last in line, and to Helena’s surprise she didn’t kiss her, but hugged her shyly.

  Noelle Laurent was even more breathtaking up close, her complexion damp with perspiration, which only emphasized her scent of citrus and vanilla. Appalled at the deep surge of emotions, which she rationalized as mere lust, Helena stepped out of reach.

  “Thank you, ladies. Now, don’t let me hog you. I think the audience wants more of you.” She could tell that her standoffish response to the public display didn’t bother the first two girls, but Noelle’s golden eyes seemed to lose their sparkle and turn into a muted dark brown.

  “Anytime, Ms. Forsythe,” the first of the young women said, and winked before she reentered the stage area. The second one merely giggled and waved at the crowd as she followed suit. Noelle stood as if frozen and looked like she wanted to add something.

  “I’m so thrilled to finally meet you.” Noelle seemed reluctant to return with the other two, who had already begun a wild dance along the catwalk toward the stage.

  “And now you have.” The corners of Helena’s mouth had never felt so rigid. She tried to smile politely, but couldn’t. She didn’t need a mirror to know how arrogant she looked. Her reaction shocked her. Even if she normally didn’t mind living up to her reputation as the company bitch, she was always civil and professional. What about Noelle triggered this weird reaction? Helena s
hrugged inwardly. Maybe the fact that she’d never cared much for birthdays?

  “Sure.” Noelle pivoted so fast, Helena stepped back when Noelle’s long hair whipped through the air. She jumped up on the catwalk, ignoring the people who offered their hands for support. Grabbing the microphone, Noelle let her voice dominate the rest of the song, outstaging the other performers by a mile.

  Helena knew from a business point of view that VMP had struck pure gold when they signed Noelle Laurent. On a personal level, Helena had no idea why she was certain that she should keep her distance.

  Chapter One

  Helena plowed through the busy corridor at VMP’s headquarters with an ease born of confidence and familiarity. It didn’t hurt that a mere look at her solemn expression scattered the junior staff in all directions. Occasionally an intern too eager to get out of her way would literally hit the wall.

  Her office on the top floor of the American Standard Building was decorated to fit the original building. Helena loved it and normally entered the vast room with a feeling of anticipation. Today was different. She was not looking forward to dealing with yet another spoiled pop diva while still jet-lagged after her flight back from Europe two days ago.

  “Anything significant come up while I was in London?” Helena asked briskly as she passed Wanda Mayer, her assistant.

  “David Boyd called. Said he has something urgent to talk to you about.”

  “Noelle Laurent’s producer?”

  “Yes. He doesn’t sound too happy.”

  “Really? Well, better return his call. Give me two minutes.” Helena walked into her office. Yellow roses stood in a blue vase on the coffee table in the sitting area of the room. Helena’s mother had started the custom decades ago, which Wanda continued. She had worked for Helena’s mother’s assistant, who had groomed her meticulously until she took over.

  Stopping in front of the vintage oak desk, Helena remembered exactly how her mother had looked behind it. Stern and goal-oriented, Dorcas Forsythe had been a woman in a man’s world when she took over after her husband became ill during the seventies. When Helena finished boarding school, she’d begun to work with her mother, eager to please and to learn how to become as poised and ambitious.

  Helena sat down at the desk, pulled her laptop from her black leather briefcase, and docked it with her desktop computer. As she waited for the call to David Boyd to go through, she updated the files she’d worked on while on her business trip to the London office.

  “David Boyd for you on line one, ma’am,” Wanda said over the intercom.

  “Thank you.” Helena pressed the button in question. “Helena Forsythe. What’s up, David?” Helena barked her question, making sure she sounded as impatient as she felt.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Forsythe, but we have a bit of a situation.” David Boyd seemed apologetic, but also stressed and concerned.

  “What kind of situation?” Helena pulled up Noelle Laurent’s dossier, and a picture of the strikingly beautiful singer filled her computer screen.

  “Noelle is causing trouble. She was impossible to deal with when we met to plan her second release. Come to think of it, she already seemed disgruntled when we recorded her first album for VMP. Makes you wonder how she treated her producers when she cut her first eight albums for those other labels.”

  Helena browsed through some photos of the tall, curvaceous soul-pop star. With a voice that could move mountains, and enough sex appeal to mesmerize an arena full of fans, Noelle Laurent was apparently completely spoiled and truly represented the new “brat pack” in the music business.

  “What did she do?”

  “She walked out on us. She’s never done this before, and it concerns me. Could be she’s preparing to lawyer up and risk breaking her contract, for all we know.”

  “But you’re not sure?”

  “No. She just stormed off with that big dude of hers in tow. Morris something. I have to say he became a bit unstable at one time during our…altercation.”

  “You mean her bodyguard? What in blazes did you do, David? Just what kind of altercation are you talking about?”

  “Nothing, really. Thor tried to get her to stay by blocking her—”

  “And the bodyguard made you all look like fools when he simply guided our little diva out of there.”

  “Eh, yeah.” David sighed. “Pretty much.”

  “And what exactly provoked this bit of drama?”

  “Noelle has written a bunch of songs and now she wants to record them. We tried to tell her those songs weren’t her, you know. They’re the deep kind of songs. Not at all what her fans are looking for.”

  “How did she respond?”

  “Like a true diva. She probably sees herself as the next Alicia Keys. What worries me even more is that Noelle seems to think she’s earned the right to change the contract.”

  “Oh, she does, does she?” Helena grimaced as a headache began to squeeze her temples. “What the hell. I’ll handle it.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Forsythe. She’s being impossible.”

  Even if Helena could understand his frustration, something prissy and overbearing in his tone made the idea of a rebellious Noelle Laurent understandable.

  After Helena hung up she asked Wanda to join her, explaining the situation. “Schedule a meeting with Noelle Laurent and her agent today. Make it clear that if she doesn’t show up, I’ll consider her in breach of contract.”

  Helena thumbed through the newspapers and some of the magazines that Wanda had stacked on her desk. The second magazine featured a full spread about Noelle Laurent, focusing on her wardrobe onstage, which showed more skin than fabric. The author asked the readers to go to the magazine’s Web site and discuss if Noelle’s outfits were too outrageous for her younger fans.

  Helena shook her head. Noelle’s clothes weren’t any worse than other pop star’s; she merely filled them better. Frowning at how she kept staring at the picture of Noelle, Helena closed the magazine, uncomfortable about the direction her mind had taken her.

  *

  Adjusting her deep purple shirt, Noelle made sure she looked as businesslike as possible, given her outrageous hair and hourglass figure. She’d minimalized her makeup and pulled her long, black-and-blond hair into a severe bun at the nape of her neck. The phone message from Venus Media & Publishing headquarters via Brad, her agent, had sounded ominous, but she was ready to stand her ground. She had paid her dues by doing everyone’s bidding over the last decade. It was time for a change.

  Noelle sat down at the island in the kitchen, where her mother was making breakfast just as she had when Noelle was little. Her mother had worked two jobs back then, but always managed to cook for her girls before she sent them off to school.

  “Can I help, Mom?”

  Her mother’s raised eyebrows telegraphed her surprise. “With what? Breakfast? Don’t be silly. I’m almost done.”

  “We’re big girls, Mom. Almost,” Noelle added, with a quick glance in her younger sister Claudia’s direction. As the second youngest of the five sisters, Claudia had quickly established her role as the family’s diva. She had never showed any sign of getting out of the “terrible twos.”

  “What’s eating you?” Claudia plopped down on a stool next to Noelle. “And what’s with that outfit? You look like you’re going to church.”

  “And good morning to you, too.” Noelle regarded her sister calmly. Claudia was seventeen going on forty-five, more cynical and acerbic than anyone at her age should be. “I’m on my way to a meeting. And you?” Claudia was dressed in a silk nightgown worthy of a movie star from the forties and tossed her hair in a way that would make any professional hair model envious.

  Claudia had already lost interest in what Noelle had to say and reached for the plate of pancakes. “Mine?”

  “No, your sister’s. Didn’t you hear what Noelle said? She has to go to a meeting.”

  “She’s not the only one who’s busy. I’m off to school.” Claudia’s anger
seemed to always be simmering just beneath the surface.

  “Dressed like that?” Noelle knew better, but couldn’t resist needling Claudia.

  “Ah!” Claudia twirled and left the kitchen.

  “Sorry, Mom.” Noelle dug her fork into the syrup-infused pancakes, not about to let Claudia’s antics get to her. She was nervous as it was. Being summoned to see Helena Forsythe was like being called to the principal’s office, something that had happened only a few times when she was in high school. Always the shy and proper student, Noelle had felt she’d failed her parents miserably the few times she got into trouble. Being the oldest of five girls wasn’t easy. Thank God, they’re not all as temperamental as Claudia. Or as ungrateful.

  “You seem far away.” Reba sat down with her own plate after she placed the remaining pancakes in the oven to stay warm.

  “I’m worried, Mom.” Noelle hadn’t meant to be so candid, but she was so rattled that not even her mother’s comfort food could distract her. “I have to go see the CEO at VMP. She’s called the Dragon Lady on her best days, and I’m not looking forward to this. She doesn’t like me.”

  “What? What’s not to like?” Reba looked aghast at the possibility of someone not appreciating her firstborn. “What’s wrong with this woman?”

  “Oh, Mom.” Noelle chuckled. “She just doesn’t. I met her once, at her birthday party two years ago, and she blew me off for no reason. Totally cold. Treated me like air. I don’t know what I did to her then, but I know why she’s mad at me now.”