Humming an off-key melody, I returned to my workstation to work on lyrics for Emma's precious new single. Inspiration came and went. My trick for catching it was sketching. I grabbed a charcoal pencil and started making random marks on a blank sketchpad.
At first, just messy lines, then gradually forming the outline of shoulders, the crisp edge of a suit... then the jawline, sharp and cold. I froze like I'd been burned, but my fingers had a mindof their own, continuing upward, tracing tight lips, a strong nose, then the outline of those eyes.
Even as just a sketch, that penetrating gaze seemed to pierce right through the paper...
Richard.
I dropped the pencil, heart hammering in my chest.
I stared at the rapidly taking shape profile sketch on my pad, the likeness sickeningly accurate.
What the hell, Natalie? What are you drawing?
I grabbed the page, marched to the corner shredder, fed it in, and hit the button. The machine ground away, cutting that profile into meaningless strips.
Had to be from staying up late writing songs, plus pregnancy hormones messing with me.
Yeah. That had to be it.
I forced myself to splash cold water on my face and went to bed early. But my dreams weren't peaceful. In bizarre fragments, I was back in LA, at a fancy ballroom where everyone danced in masks. Then Richard appeared, no mask, walking straight toward me, ripping mine off in front of everyone. His face was handsome and furious under the swaying crystal chandeliers, his voice ice. "Where did you think you could run, Natalie? Come home with me. Be my obedient wife again."
I woke up gasping in the dark, forehead covered in cold sweat. Outside, the Vegas sky was still dark. I curled up, hand over my belly, until my heartbeat slowed.
Just a dream. I told myself. Richard probably forgot Natalie Green even existed.
The next afternoon, Emma called again.
"Baby! Massive news!" Emma's voice was lottery-winner excited. "You know the Golden Coast Music Festival in California? They want indie musicians and brands to do crossover collabs. One of the California wine brands we workwith—their heir, apparently a die-hard fan of yours, specifically requested to collaborate with you on a promo track!"
California. The word triggered instant rejection.
"Emma, we agreed—no gigs that need long-distance travel. You know my situation."
My pregnancy was one reason I'd insisted on mostly local work when negotiating my contract.
Only Emma knew. No one else.
"I know, I know, honey." Emma's tone was soothing, but she smelled blood in the water. "But this is different! The money they're offering is—" She named a figure that made my eyelids twitch. "And you only need to be there three days! Two days are just travel. The actual event is just one afternoon creative meeting and one evening brand dinner. The dinner's private, very small—just partners and brand reps. You wear your mask, show your face for a bit, sing one song, take a photo with that rich heir fan, and the money's yours! Enough for six months' maternity leave! God, for money like this, don't fight it, honey."
That number was tempting. Tempting enough to ignore the alarm bells screaming in my head.
With that money, I could move to a bigger, quieter place after the baby came. Maybe hire a decent nanny. I had to think about the kid, right?
"They agree I stay masked the whole time?"
"Absolutely! It'll be in the contract."
I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Fine. I'll go. But everything stays exactly as agreed. Soon as the event's over, I'm out."
"Perfect! I knew you were the smartest baby! I'll book first class and a five-star hotel right away! You don't have to worry about anything! Just relax, baby, you're going to shine!"
That night, I dreamed of Richard again.
I dreamed I was lying in that big bed at Blackwood Manor. Richard pinned me underneath him, kissing slowly down from my lips, teeth catching my nipple. My body trembled involuntarily, moans escaping my mouth. Finally, Richard's lips stopped between my legs, his fingers rubbing against my soaked panties, his low voice calling my name. "Natalie, do you want this?"
Of course I wanted it. I wanted Richard to drive into me hard like he used to. He pulled off my panties, guiding his thick length against me, and then—
I woke up.
