I couldn’t contain my laughter at her amendment. Having met Lyric’s twin on a few occasions over the years, I could understand her misgivings about trusting either of them while together. Mila and Luca’s wife, Violet, were constantly kept on their toes when the two guys were together. Ian and Isaac were already a handful, but I could foresee them getting worse as the years progressed.

Emmie handed me a stack of papers. “This is our itinerary for the week, but it is always subject to change. I’ll text you with any updates as I receive them.” She took another sip of her coffee. “And Lyric told me you have family here in the city. Please just let me know when you will be visiting them. I won’t micromanage your time like I will be doing with the rockers, but I would feel better if you let me know your whereabouts since you’re only seventeen and under my protection.” She gave a small shudder. “I adore your mother, but I’m sure you will understand when I say that your dad makes me a little…nervous.”

I lifted my gaze from studying the itinerary for that day, giving her a grim smile. “Yes, I understand. He can be a little intimidating. But really, he’s kind of a pussycat.”

“I’ll take your word for it, sweetheart,” she said with a half smile.

The morning seemed to fly by. After breakfast, Emmie introduced me to all four of the international rockers she had recently signed. Park Min Gi was from Seoul, Korea, and lived up to the K-pop hype that I’d seen some of my friends at school getting into. Only, he was a rocker, so I guess it was more of a K-rock hype. I didn’t know, and I didn’t really care. I just liked looking at him, because the guy was possibly the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life.

Second most beautiful. Because even as dreamy as Park Min Gi was, he couldn’t stand up to my idea of perfection that Ryan was.

The three rockers I would be translating for all week kept me busy from the moment I walked into the penthouse. Laura Consoli had an expensive-looking guitar in her hands, holding it like a baseball bat as she swung it at Franco Rossi’s head, screaming and cursing at him in Italian. While Garik Kipelov sat at the dining table encouraging her to “kill the motherfucker” as he shoveled waffles into his mouth.

The guard named Marcus grabbed her from behind, while Rodger carefully tried to pry the guitar from her hands. A difficult feat since she was still swinging it.

“What is she saying?” Emmie asked at my side as we watched the shitshow.

I quickly replayed the scene through my head that we’d walked in on. “Rossi wanted to know if Laura’s er…if the curtains match the drapes is a less crass way of saying it.” It was a little more complicated than that, but it was all Emmie needed to know before she was walking up to Rossi and grabbing a handful of his hair at the back of his head.