Chapter 16
When Abigail finishes tidying the kitchen after a light meal she didn’t even finish, she goes straight to the sofa and sits in front of the coffee table, where her laptop and planner are.
She’s been tempted to read Taylor’s song since the moment she walked through the door of her rental apartment, but she resisted because she wanted to do it calmly, to give it the time it deserves without any other distractions.
She opens the planner and takes out the folded paper, leaning back to read it while she tries to let her body relax a little against the cushions after spending the whole morning with her back against the wall.
She holds the sheet up, focusing on Taylor’s neat, rounded handwriting, and reads the title: Tongue of Fire.
Her eyebrows shoot up and her pulse kicks. She likes it—it feels powerful and suits Taylor perfectly—so she keeps reading.
I’ve got fire in my veins and salt on my skin
Gypsy blood that doesn’t know how to obey
The first lines tug an involuntary smile from her. That’s Taylor, in Abigail’s opinion—pure and unfiltered, showing off that Andalusian heritage that makes her voice unique. But as she reads on, something shifts in her expression.
I’m the storm you couldn’t tame
The wild one who learned not to beg
Abigail stops breathing for a second and leans forward, unable to keep a relaxed position. Her eyes skim faster over the lines, searching, afraid she’ll find something she already suspects.
With my tongue of fire I’m going to burn you
Until you understand what it means to love without control
Her mouth goes dry and she rubs a hand over her neck. It’s impossible, Taylor can’t have written about her...
There’s ice in your eyes, but thirst on your lips
A crystal queen no one ever touches
Abigail feels like she’s suffocating; the description is too specific. She knows it’s her, that the words of Taylor’s third song are just for her.
But I know how to make you break slowly
Until you admit you need my embrace
A strange sound escapes Abigail’s throat, something between a moan and a sigh.
You look at me like someone staring straight at the sun
Knowing it blinds you, but it burns hot
Abigail squeezes her eyes shut. She knows exactly what Taylor means, because she can remember perfectly every moment she’s looked at her like that, with that mix of fascination and fear she feels when she’s near her.
My tongue of fire melts your walls
Even while you pretend your boundaries are steel
Her hands start to tremble, and that does scare her, because Abigail doesn’t tremble—she never loses control in front of anything or anyone—but this damn song...
In the dark you whisper my name
Like someone praying, but you don’t want to be named
You know I’m yours, even if you don’t say it
You know I burn you, even if you try to forbid it
"Fuck," Abigail whispers.
I’m fire, I’m wind, I’m everything you love
The one who breaks the silence when you fall apart
I’m the flame that burns in your frozen hands
The one who teaches you to live, not just to work
Abigail sets the page on the table and stares at it as if it were burning.
Fucking Taylor. She should call her and tell her the song won’t work, that she should pick one she already has and never dare to do anything like this again, but the song is good, it captures all that fire Taylor carries inside, and even though Abigail knows it’s about her, no one else has to know, and she has no intention of making Taylor stash away what’s probably the song that will launch her career.
She gets up from the sofa abruptly and goes to the window.
She lets her gaze lose itself in the hills in the distance.
She’s getting used to the calm of this town and starting to like it in a way she can’t explain.
She stays there for a few minutes until she manages to get her mind under control again, then she picks up the page and reads the song again, this time more slowly, lingering on the last verse she hadn’t even processed before.
My tongue of fire is your salvation
Even if that revolution scares you
Abigail is terrified by how easily Taylor has read her.
It’s as if she had slipped inside her and could hear most of her thoughts, but what scares her most is the part of the song that talks about Taylor herself—does she really think she’s everything Abigail needs, or is it just one more way to provoke her?
"Damn brat," Abigail huffs, never having felt so confused, but she’s certain she has no intention of playing her game.
She lets the paper fall and grabs her phone, sending a group message to all the members of the band.
"Rehearsal this afternoon at 5"
She doesn’t bother to say anything else; there’s no need for explanations. If she says there’s rehearsal, even if it wasn’t scheduled, there will be. She leaves the phone on the table and goes to the bathroom to take a shower and change clothes.
Taylor arrives at the rehearsal space fifteen minutes before five. She doesn’t do it to please Abigail—she does it because she knows Abigail is already there and she wants to see her before the others arrive, because she knows she’s read her song and now there’s a knot of nerves in her stomach.
When she pushes the door open, Abigail is standing by the amps, dressed in a black suit that makes her look more imposing than ever. She’s staring at her, as if she knew Taylor would show up early and had been waiting for her.
"Hi," Taylor says, walking up to her.
"Hi," Abigail replies with a calm that’s scary.
Taylor stops a couple of steps from the executive, trying to guess what the woman in front of her is thinking, but right now Abigail is like an impenetrable fortress; she doesn’t even blink, she just stares while keeping her arms crossed over her chest.
"Did you read it?" Taylor asks, pulse racing.
"Yes."
The reply is dry and sharp—very Abigail—but Taylor notices the rigidity in her body and all that restraint that one day will overflow.
"Did you like it?" Taylor insists, taking another step toward her.
Abigail keeps looking at her, jaw tight, something wild in her eyes that has turned them completely gray, but she stays still, as if nothing were happening and the lyrics weren’t about her.
"Yes," she answers with the same clipped tone as before.
Taylor huffs, refusing to be intimidated by her tone.
"How much? How much did you like it?" Taylor presses.
The tension between them starts to grow so strong that Taylor has the sensation something is crackling in the air while Abigail’s glare could kill.
"A lot," Abigail answers after a pause.
Taylor crooks that cocky smile that makes a certain jolt shoot through Abigail where it shouldn’t, but she still doesn’t react.
"That’ll do," Taylor says, satisfied, aware that’s all she’ll get out of her.
"Why didn’t you show it to me this morning?" Abigail asks, feeling her muscles loosen a little. "We’ve wasted time we don’t have."
"Because you weren’t particularly receptive, and I didn’t want you to toss it out just because..." Taylor doesn’t finish the sentence and just starts smiling, amused.
Abigail wants to grab her by the T-shirt and shake her; she also wants to rip it off and put her facing the wall while she fucks her, and she wants to ask what the hell she’s trying to tell her with that song—but she does none of it, because business comes first.
"Do you think I’m going to toss something good just because you don’t know how to keep that tongue of fire inside your mouth?" Abigail spits, her held-back tone making her sound like a snake about to deliver a venomous bite.
"I could keep it contained inside your mouth," Taylor blurts. "That’s where I want it to burn."
Abigail feels dizzy for a second, as if a current had shot through her and shorted her brain, but it doesn’t last long and her sharp words cut the air again.
"That’s a good line. Write it down for the next song; it’ll suit you just fine," she replies just as the door opens.
Taylor freezes, staring at her openmouthed while Abigail walks to the front table to grab her planner.
"What are we doing here?" David asks, leading the group of musicians.
Ethan comes in right behind him, catching Taylor off guard.
"Taylor’s written the third song," Abigail explains; this time she doesn’t head to her corner, but leans her ass on the table and stays there. "She’ll play it now to show the melody, and we’ll go from there."
"All right," David says. "Don’t we need to make any changes to the lyrics first?"
"No," Abigail answers like a hammer blow. "Whenever you’re ready," she tells Taylor.
Taylor grabs her guitar, steps behind the mic, and starts the first chords before opening her mouth to sing. Her voice carries all the passion and fire in the lyrics, and Abigail feels as if an icy wind were blowing down her back, prickling every pore in its path.
I’ve got fire in my veins and salt on my skin
Gypsy blood that doesn’t know how to obey
Taylor’s eyes lock on hers, and even Ethan can sense the tension filling the room when Abigail holds her breath.
Taylor’s voice turns rawer and wilder, channeling all that Andalusian heritage running in her blood, but there’s something else in the song—something personal and primal that makes every note drive straight into the soul of whoever listens.
With my tongue of fire I’m going to burn you
Until you understand what it means to love without control
Taylor sings without taking her eyes off Abigail, and although the executive keeps her expression impassive, inside she feels like a lightning bolt about to strike a tree and set it ablaze.
When the song ends, the silence is absolute as the musicians look at one another and then at Abigail, as if they were waiting for her to confirm that what just happened was real.
"Fuck," David says finally. "What the hell, they’re going to lose their minds," he adds with an exultant laugh that the others share.