The Pleasure's All Mine Read Online Free PDF Page A

ready, but that was beside the point.
    “So what the fuck’s he done now?” Sim growled and extracted himself from a long-legged brunette.
    “Oh, nothing much,” Pierce said with a shrug and didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his tone, “Somehow he doesn’t have the backing vocals and music for his performance tonight. That’s all.”
    For a second Simeon’s eyes widened in shock, but he quickly recovered. “And how’s that on me?”
    “You allowed him to take the master tape—also against my advice I might add—now it’s not here.”
    “So send this fool to get it,” Sim snapped back with a brisk nod in Steve’s direction.
    Steve moved forward but Pierce’s hand snaked out to hold him in place as he whispered into the man’s ear, “Easy, Steve. Some other time.”
    Sim lifted himself off the sofa and came to stand within a few inches of the blond man whose flushed face signaled an anger barely kept in check.
    “What?” Sim said, flexing his body at Steve as though he wanted to land a blow. Then he glanced back at the rowdy crew. “Aw, the white boy thought he was gonna bank tough, y’all.”
    A round of laughter ensued from the people around them, who at first had been too busy sucking up the food and top-shelf liquor to give the threesome much notice.
    “I’d mop the floor with your ass,” Sim said so everyone in range could hear. “Might put some color on you—for real.”
    More laughter was enough to make Steve’s head whip around to Pierce, wanting a signal that he had permission to take Sim on. There was enough drama surrounding MEG already without a tabloid story of a fight between Simeon Cahill and Pierce’s right-hand man. Thanks to Sim, MEG had been in the news more in the past few months than they had been in the past few years. He took note that the backlash always happened at anything involving MEG—never when it came to Sim’s restaurant or fashion label.
    Pierce kept his glare on Sim as he said, “Steve, find Vlad and bring him here.”
    Steve threw another scathing look at Sim before turning to leave.
    “Yeah, you better save his ass on that ,” Sim jeered, squaring his shoulders.
    “Personally, my money would be on Steve,” Pierce replied with a sly grin. “I’ve seen you fight. You hit like a six-year-old.”
    Sim’s expression turned dark as the laughter was at his expense this time. He was up in Pierce’s face before anyone could blink. “You better recognize who you’re talking to.”
    “How could I forget?” Pierce shot back, standing his ground. “Either you send Vlad to get the tape or your boy doesn’t perform. Bottom line, I don’t give a damn if he never sees this stage or any other stage.”
    Sim glowered openly at Pierce until a half-naked woman tugged on his white jacket and purred, “Simmie sweetie, you promised to show me a good time. He’s destroying the vibe in here.”
    “Yeah, he is doing that, ain’t he?”
    Seconds later, Vlad, a hefty, ivory-skinned bruiser, pulled up next to Sim, practically growled at Pierce, then looked over to Sim. “What’s up, man?”
    Sim sighed hard before he said, “Need you to make a run, man.”
    “What? The party’s just getting good.”
    “It’ll still be good later.” Sim quickly explained the circumstances, which brought a frown to Vlad’s thick lips. He looked over to Steve. “Why can’t he go get it?”
    “Out of the question,” Pierce replied with an unflinching gaze on Sim, daring a contradiction.
    Vlad grumbled something they couldn’t quite catch, then trudged away.
    Pierce didn’t give Sim another thought as he gestured to Steve to hit the dressing rooms to inform the other artists of the new schedule. Pierce went in the opposite direction, making a trip to see the sound engineers and lighting director to explain the changes.
    Pierce could only shake his head. Simeon Cahill—like a certain two-term President—was living proof that mediocre students ruled the world. In college,