Black Lilith: Book One (Black Lilith #1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

showering her in a storm of white mess. She yelps and tries to brush it all off. Tommy pauses his playing to pluck a couple of pieces out of her hair.
    “I don’t know why Slate thinks I’ll be good at this.”
    “He’s pretty good at reading people,” Tommy says evenly. “And you know we’ll be here to help you, right?”
    Mikayla wants to wrap Tommy up in a blanket and take him home with her. “Thanks,” she says.
    “We’re all kind of new at this,” Dash says. “We only got the contract about a year ago… this is our first big tour. We can figure it all out together.”
    As least she wouldn’t be alone in her ignorance. She leans back on the couch and thinks about all the things that could go wrong with an inexperienced assistant, and a group of young men. One of whom can’t look her in the eye, while another is almost certainly having a threesome while she, Dash and Tommy are sitting in the green room exchanging pleasantries.
    Tommy strums his bass, humming a melody along with the chords, and the music makes Mikayla want to lean over and rest her head on his shoulder. He seems to be making it up as he goes along. Dash nods slowly in an unheard rhythm.
    Her mind wanders to how she would imagine Logan dancing and singing to the song, and she quickly shoves those thoughts aside.
    She works with him now.
    He is off limits .
    So many things could go wrong. She’s trained in events, not administration. But maybe if she keeps a tight hold on the schedule and plans carefully, she might be able to make the tour go smoothly for them.
    Dash leans his head against the couch and looks at Mikayla out of the corner of his eye. “Are you sure you’re not a groupie? Or is Logan just not pretty enough?”
    She shoves him so hard he falls off the couch.

Chapter Four
     

     
    Slate arranged for Mikayla to be moved from Bass Note ’s general typing pool to Black Lilith ’s personal staff. Trixie had looked shocked and horrified when she’d heard that Mikayla had been picked up by the band, and spent the next few days glaring at Mikayla over the top of her Mac. Mikayla had a couple of projects still to finalize for Bass Note , but by the next Saturday she was setting up a meeting room on the top floor of the building, waiting for the band.
    She catches her reflection in the tinted windows and takes a quick look to make sure that her hair and makeup are still fresh. She’d taken special care with her outfit that day—she was getting tired of people mistaking her for a groupie. Her trousers are neatly pressed, her blue blouse is clean and ironed, and she has a long silver chain around her neck. Her hair is tied back in a loose, messy bun. Professional, but not a tight-ass. At least, that’s what she hopes she looks like. Knowing her luck, the band will probably think she’s cosplaying as a nun or something.
    She flicks a speck of mascara off of her cheek and sits down at the meeting table, opening her laptop and bringing up a spreadsheet and a list of her questions. She had signed the contract and met the band—but she doesn’t even know when they’re going on tour, any of the dates, or how they’re going to get around. She hadn’t been given access to any of the last assistant’s notes. It’s not the sort of situation she would have chosen to be in.
    Plus, the band is late.
    Mikayla had already decided to treat this tour like one big event because events is a language she speaks. And she may not know much about music and concerts, but she knows how to pull off events. She’d interned with one of the biggest events management firms in California when she was in college—she could do this. Instead of wrangling caterers and talent, she would be wrangling musicians and their screaming fans. Instead of writing press releases for business magazines, she would be writing emails to music journalists. Same skills; different context. At least that’s what she’s been telling herself ever since she signed the