Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Danger had been driving for over four hours. Deep in the Shenandoah Mountains stood a cabin he owned, a private sanctuary he visited whenever he needed to get away and disconnect from his hectic lifestyle. No one knew of this place, and he never allowed anyone to visit.
But this was different.
He glanced over at Zena, who had fallen asleep halfway through the ride, leaving Danger alone with his thoughts.
He told himself he was taking this trip for business.
Zena was distracted. He told himself she needed to focus on finishing her EP.
She needed to get away from everyone for a while, especially Xavier.
Danger got out of his truck briefly to enter the gate code for the iron gates, which gained him access to the private road leading to his cabin.
The property was on a lake with only four other cabins spread out over sixty acres.
After driving two miles down the road, he was pulling up to a sleek two-story A-frame cabin.
Danger hadn’t been to the cabin in what felt like years. The place was immaculate. It spread over 2,010 square feet, with four bedrooms, two and a half baths, stainless-steel appliances, and a panoramic view of the longest stretch of the mountains.
After getting all their luggage inside and turning on the fireplace to warm the place up, he went back outside to get Zena.
He scooped her up bridal style, then carried her into the cabin, gently placing her in the guest room.
He pressed his lips softly to her forehead and covered her with a blanket.
She must have been tired because she didn’t move a muscle the entire time.
After unpacking their things, he took a quick shower. He then headed to the kitchen to make dinner. He had arranged for groceries ahead of his visit, so the fridge and pantry were stocked. He decided to make Cajun shrimp Alfredo, Zena’s favorite.
He strutted over to his vinyl collection in the den, selected a record, and gently set it on his turntable. Bass pumped through the speakers as he put a pot of water on the stove.
In his zone, he began dicing onions and peppers.
Danger had learned to cook from his grandmother. He was that big-headed kid always in the kitchen, always asking questions, so she put him to work, and not just in the kitchen, but all around the house. She believed in teaching life skills.
About forty-five minutes later, Danger sipped a beer while setting the dinner table.
“Well, well, look at you, chef. It smells good in here.” Zena came up behind him, sneaking a piece of shrimp into her mouth.
“Sup, sleepy beauty. I see you have finally graced me with your presence.” He added his fettuccine noodles to the boiling pot of water.
“I can’t lie, I needed that nap.”
He nodded. He knew Zena had been running on fumes lately,
“So, what made you get a cabin in the woods?” Zena asked.
“Who said I owned this cabin?”
Zena smirked. “Let’s see, the extensive vinyl collection of nothing but R&B and soul artists. The candy dishes are filled to the top with chico sticks, and let’s not forget the family pictures hanging everywhere.”
Danger put the finishing touches on the Alfredo. “You got me, but have a seat at the table. I’ll bring you a plate.”
Wasting no time, they both dug in the only noise that could be heard was the clanking of their silverware on the plates.
“So, have you ever brought Chyna here?”
Their eyes met. “What’s with all the questions?”
Zena put her hands up. “Sorry if I wanted to make conversation.”
“The answer is no…no one has been here besides my housekeeping staff.”
“Why not?”
Danger dropped his fork onto the plate. “Because this is my safe space. I come here to leave everything behind. For once, I want to be Dmitri. Not the manager. Not the brother. Not the mentor. Not the therapist. This space is for me to take time for myself. It’s peaceful here, and I don’t want to share it with anyone. ”
Zena nodded in agreement. “Why am I here, then?”
“Because you needed peace in your life, just as much as I needed it.”
Zena finished her food, then grabbed her plate and Danger’s, and put both into the kitchen sink.
As Zena washed the dishes, she thought about his confession.
It had caught her off guard. Besides Amari and now Genesis, she wasn’t used to having anyone in her corner.
The only-child syndrome sneaked up on her at times.
When she was alone, especially after losing her parents, Zena always felt a hole in her heart.
“Come with me right quick,” Danger said, standing. “I want to show you something.”
She followed him down a dimly lit hallway toward a door that led to a flight of basement stairs. The old wood creaked beneath their weight as they descended into the darkness.
“I know you didn't bring me all the way out into the wilderness just to show off your middle-school Tee-ball trophies,” Zena teased, eyeing his back with suspicion.
Danger let out a low chuckle. “Man, come on. Have a little faith.”
At the bottom of the stairs, he stepped up to a security door, entered a digital code, and pried it open.
Zena’s jaw dropped. Before her was a state-of-the-art recording studio.
It was huge, wrapped in rich, acoustic wood trim.
Platinum and gold plaques from the best-selling artists on Danger's label lined the walls.
A soundboard gleamed under the low-voltage LED accent lights, creating a moody ambiance.
But Zena stopped dead in her tracks when her eyes landed on the back wall.
“Oh my god… this is beautiful,” she whispered, stepping closer to take in the memorabilia.
There was a vintage Romeo Must Die poster visibly signed by Aaliyah in silver ink, and a laser-etched, limited-edition silver display of Sam Cooke’s A Change Is Gonna Come.
But the centerpiece was a pristine, cocaine-white 1968 Fender Stratocaster electric guitar, housed safely in a backlit glass case.
“Wait a damn minute,” Zena said, her eyes widening. “Is that… Izabella?”
The legendary guitar had once belonged to Jimi Hendrix. “How on earth did you get your hands on this? Last I heard, it was in a museum in Seattle.”
Danger smiled to himself, a smug, satisfied look washing over his face.
“You want to play it?” he asked.
“Huh? Absolutely not!” She shook her head rapidly, backing up a step. As much as she wanted to touch it, some art was sacred.
“I’m playing with you. I never let that thing out of the case,” Danger admitted.
He stepped up behind her, closing the distance between them. Slowly, his thick hands came around to rest flat against her small waist. Zena froze, allowing his palms to anchor her as she tried to keep her focus on the memorabilia wall.
His minty breath tickled the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. The rich, woody scent of his cologne filled her senses, and the possessive grasp of his hands on her hips was driving her insane.
Desperate to shake the illicit thoughts from her head, she gently pulled away and walked into the booth.
She took a seat on the high black stool in front of the microphone, pulling a battered composition notebook from the oversized hoodie she had borrowed from him earlier.
Seeing that wall of legends had lit a fire deep within her soul. She needed to capture it.
Through the glass, their eyes locked.
“Ready to make some magic?” Danger’s voice came through her headphones smoothly.
On her cue, Danger logged into the system, initializing the session. He pulled up a track they had been working on back in Richmond titled “Wounds.”
As the beat began to loop in her headphones, Zena nodded, trying to find the emotional wavelength she needed to step into.
The beat ran for a couple of minutes, but when she started singing, the energy felt stagnant. This was their fourth attempt at getting the hook right.
Zena just wasn't feeling it.
"Wounds" was a song she had written in the raw, messy aftermath of her breakup with Tate. Right now, she hated feeling so exposed. She didn't want the world to dissect her trauma just to find a flaw in it.
Snatching the headphones off her ears, she spoke directly into the mic. “Can we try something else? I want to scratch this.”
Danger nodded, his expression focused, clearly prepared to go all night.
Sliding out of the booth, Zena joined him at the soundboard, pulling a rolling chair right up next to his. She flipped through the wrinkled pages of her notebook until she hit a set of lyrics that made her pulse quicken.
“This one,” Zena pointed firmly, turning the book toward him.
Danger raised a thick eyebrow, reading the lines. “This one?”
The track was titled “When I Want You.”
She wanted to pivot. Not every single song she released needed to be a tragic, heartbreaking ballad.
Danger reached out, grabbing the armrest of her chair and pulling her significantly closer to him until their knees brushed. “Sing it to me.”
Zena instinctively tried to shift back, a sudden wave of nerves hitting her, but his hand came down gently on her thigh, anchoring her in place.
He leaned in closer.“Right here. Don't you move. Tell me exactly how you want me.”
A sudden heat radiated from Zena’s core, flushing her cheeks. Overwhelmed by the proximity, she instinctively dropped her gaze to the floor.
Danger’s fingers caught her chin, firmly lifting her head back up. “Nah. Eyes on me.”
They stared at each other. The silence between them is growing dangerously thin.
Licking her lips, she sang softly,
“I want you when I want you,
When the silence too loud, and my body can’t fight it.
I call you when I shouldn’t,
'Cause I know that your voice feels just like it.”
“Good girl,” Danger murmured.
Slowly, his hand traced down the soft fabric of her pajama pants. Zena shifted uncomfortably in the chair, her breath catching in her throat.
When his palm slid over her hip, her vocal control slipped, her voice hitting a high pitch.
His thumb grazed the elastic band of her waistband, and she stumbled over the next line.
“Focus,” Danger commanded, his voice stern, demanding compliance.
Zena slammed her eyes shut, trying to find her breath, trying to anchor herself to the melody.
But then his fingers slipped beneath the cotton, finding the sensitive bud of her center. His electric contact shattered her concentration. The lyrics evaporated from her mind, her voice dying out into a soft gasp.
“Why did you stop?” Danger murmured, his voice dripping with authority as he inserted one long finger inside her. “Did I tell you to stop?”
Blinded by pleasure, Zena could only shake her head frantically no.
“Ima let you have this… But you must finish the song. You understand?”
She nodded.
She rode the wave of his fingers as he alternated between fingers, slowly inserting the next.
“Ahhhh.” She moaned as she came on his fingers.
Coming down from the high, Danger removed his finger from her pants. Her stickiness covered his fingers.
“Now that this is done. I need you to focus.” Danger walked out.
Zena leaned her head back in the chair.
It was going to be a long weekend.