“I enjoyed your singing.” Obviously rattled, Mia blurted out the awkward translation. She pointed at Nate. “That’s what he said.”
“That’s not what I said. By the way, you’re blushing. How long do you think you can keep our relationship a secret?”
“Stop it,” she signed back. “And what relationship?”
“The one where I tear your clothes off every chance I get.”
Although he wanted to stare at Mia and see how his declaration affected her, Nate nodded to the sound engineer, who queued the playback. Beside him, Mia radiated heat, but without glancing at her expression, he didn’t know if she was struggling with annoyance or lust.
Ivy’s voice filled the space. She’d sung along with a simple piano track that Melody had recorded for the demo. Nate heard the potential in what Ivy could do with the song and the hairs on the back of his neck rose in reaction. It was a good sign. Whether she believed it or not, the music suited her voice. The question remained whether she could get behind the words and sell it.
A collective sigh filled the control booth when the last notes tapered off. Nate nodded in satisfaction and pinned Ivy with his gaze. The woman was ridiculously talented. Pity she was such a diva.
Javier looked pleased with what he’d heard. “I think that’s a keeper.”
“I’d like to record the other song we discussed earlier, as well,” Ivy said, obviously not willing to concede quite yet.
Nate wasn’t about to negotiate with the pop princess. He looked at Melody. “Give her the music for those five songs we talked about.” When Mia translated what he’d said, he turned to Ivy.
“Take the rest of the week and get a feel for the songs. I want you back in the studio on Friday. We’ll work on all of them.”
“You’re only giving me three days. That’s not enough time,” the pop princess squeaked, shooting a panicked look toward her father.
Javier shrugged. “If we want to get the album done in a short amount of time, you’re going to have to commit to working hard.”
Nate could almost hear Ivy’s thoughts. She didn’t want to work hard. She wanted to shop and party and boss her sister around.
Nate began signing again. “You have three days to learn five songs. They don’t have to be perfect,” Mia translated. “But you do need to have a feel for them.”
“Fine.” Ivy tossed her head and made her way to the door.
Before Mia could follow on her sister’s heels, Nate caught her by the arm, stopping her. “Want to be my date to the AMAs?”
Free Fall had once again been nominated for favorite pop/rock duo or group, an award they’d won two years earlier, and favorite pop/rock album. The competition was especially stiff this year and he didn’t expe
ct they’d win. Having Mia sitting beside him would take the sting out of the loss.
“The AMAs?” Mia breathed, beaming at his invitation.
Ivy had reached the hall, but when she heard her sister speak, she whirled around. “What about the AMAs?”
Mia’s delight dimmed. “Nate asked me to go with him.”
“Why? To translate?”
Nate could tell she was about to lie to her sister once again. He caught her hand to get her attention and shook his head in warning. “Tell her the truth.”
“As his date.”
“Your date?” Ivy looked scandalized as she fixed Nate with her stare. “That’s not possible.”
“Why not?” Mia translated for him.
The pop star set her hand on her hip and thrust out her lower lip like a toddler. “Because she’s my assistant.”
And he was sick of the way Ivy treated Mia. “She’s also your sister,” he signed, but Mia didn’t immediately translate.
Both Nate and Ivy glared at her as she stood frozen in mute silence, gazing from one to the other. She deserved so much better than to be at Ivy’s beck and call. What was wrong with the entire family that everything revolved around Ivy and her damned career?