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"Of course."
Brandon follows me with his gaze, but I ignore him, leaving the break room behind me as I head for the booth.
I put on my headphones and start singing slow, melodious lyrics that tell of lost loves and rainy afternoons.
But it doesn't feel like mine.
Inside, I just want to scream.
I'm not the woman who is hurt or who cries because she’s heartbroken.
I'm the one who wishes she could watch the world burn and dance in the ashes.
I wish I could scream about the anger and the helplessness that I feel, but I can't.
I can't afford to let them down, not when the record label has me on thin ice. They're already watching my every move, waiting for me to slip up. So I grit my teeth and keep singing, forcing myself to sound like I mean the words even though they're as hollow as my chest feels right now.
The music stops in the middle of laying the background vocals, and the technician catches my attention.
"Drea, I think you have visitors."
I look up and open my eyes, noticing a towering figure who stands next to a very tense Brandon.
My heart immediately begins to skip a beat.
Dressed almost entirely in black, because it seems that there are no other colors in his closet, Damien is standing in my studio.
His square jaw is tight and firm, and his large hands are tucked inside the pockets of his pants.
My dark knight.
I take a deep breath, feeling the familiar tightness in my chest as Damien's intense gaze locks onto mine. His eyes are like magnets, drawing me in with their smoldering intensity.
This man does something to me. Cracks the armor I've spent years building.
Growing up, I learned the hard way that relying on others was a trap. Dad's rages left me cowering, bracing for the next explosion. Mom escaped into her shattered dreams, abandoning me emotionally.
I had to fend for myself. Cook my own meals, get myself to school. Find solace in music when the world grew too harsh.
That self-sufficiency kept me alive, but it also walled off my heart. I stopped expecting anyone to have my back.
Even with Brandon. He's here but with a price.
Until Damien.
His presence sparks a yearning I can't ignore. To be seen. To be protected. It's dizzying and terrifying all at once.
Part of me craves his strength, his steadiness. The other part screams to run before I'm gutted again.
Damien takes a step closer, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around me. My pulse quickens as heat blossoms low in my belly.
I tear my gaze away, fixing it on the gleaming sound equipment. Anything to avoid those eyes that seem to strip me bare.
But Damien's eyes find mine again, holding me in their depths whispering… You don't have to pretend with me.
I want to take refuge in his arms and know what it feels like to be touched by those hands. But I restrain myself and climb down from the stool.
I walk to the adjoining room to meet him. "What are you doing here?"
