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On the contrary, I’m excited that they know we’re together.
The knowledge that our relationship is now public knowledge makes it feel even more tangible, like it's finally sunk in.
I hope the tabloid cover up and see us kissing outside Club Allure.
Brandon huffs, his face turning red. "You're being completely unreasonable, Andrea. This relationship with Damien is clouding your judgment."
I cross my arms, digging in my heels. "No, Brandon. For once, I'm seeing things clearly."
Brandon looks indignant, and I know he must be. His mood has been unbearable since Damien and I started dating. I don’t care, though, because, for the first time in a long time, I'm happy.
And things are good with us.
The sex is mind-blowing, like nothing I've ever experienced before. But it's more than that. There's a deep connection between us that makes me feel safe and confident in a way I never have.
When I'm with him, it's like he's my safety net, always there to catch me if I fall. I don't have to be afraid or walk on eggshells. I can just be myself, the real me.
Of course, that's causing some tension with Brandon. He's not used to me questioning him or standing up for myself. We've been arguing more and more lately because I'm not just blindly following his orders anymore.
He shakes his head, lips pressed into a thin line. "We'll discuss this later. You have a show to prepare for."
It's been about a month of dating Damien, and I'm in a constant state of bliss. The carbs from the meals he's taught me to cook, the mind-blowing sex, and then composing music together afterward—it's like a dream.
"Fine."
My gaze rises to meet Brandon's. He’s done nothing but berate me for my taste in men. At first, I was patient, remembering all the times that he was looking out for what was best for me, but at this point, it's starting to irritate me.
Brandon can probably see it in my face, because he sighs and takes off his glasses, sitting down across from me at the edge of the coffee table.
"What don't you understand, Drea? All of this affects your image. It makes you look like you're the kind of dumb girl who falls at the feet of the first bad boy who pays attention to you."
His words hurt me more than they should because of how he says them, making me think he shares that opinion. But I won't let that change my mind, I'm making my own decisions from this point forward.
"The press can say what they want. They'll eventually get tired of the story, or they won't, but I'm sick of it. I’m fed up with allowing them to control my life."
"The press doesn't control your life, Drea, but they do influence your career. And this will affect it, for sure."
"Then let it!" I burst out, dropping the magazine. "I'm sick of having to keep up an appearance. I’m tired of pretending to be who I'm not, Brandon. I want to sing, compose, and write about whatever comes from my heart. The public will either love or hate it, but if they reject me, I'll know it wasn't because I was a phony. I'd rather be hated for being authentic than loved for being a liar.”
My words, laden with fury and hurt, stop Brandon in his tracks, his eyes widening as if he's seeing a stranger before him.
"Drea, you're playing with fire. Why are you so willing to risk everything for a man?"
"Not a man, but a billionaire. The owner of the most famous club in New York and owner of one of the most influential record labels in the country. A man who is very serious and cares deeply about her and her career."
The words are not mine, but Damien's, who's standing in the entrance of the studio. His intense eyes are fixed on mine.
I never tire of seeing him outfitted in all black. But paired with the glare on his face, he looks sinister. Like every rumor and account that I read about Damien McAllister is the truth.
That's he's ruthless.
That he takes what he wants.
That he has more zeros in his bank account than I'll see in a lifetime.
But even with all of that, all I see is the man who sits at the piano and writes music for hours with me. Or the man who never tires of making late-night ice cream runs.
I fucking love him. All of him.
