Chapter 2
Who is he?
His imposing man behind me moves like a panther stalking its prey in the middle of the night.
His body is lean, and his form is highlighted by his dark suit. He’s dressed in black from head to toe in a modern designer suit with just a hint of blood red printed on the handkerchief that is folded in his jacket pocket.
His hair is perfectly styled away from his face, dark blond amidst a stern, rugged face, and a perfectly trimmed beard. A strange sparkle shines in his eyes, like a spot of light in the midst of his dark gaze.
I turn to look at him, and thats when his eyes meet mine.
Every move he makes is measured, fluid, and precise.
Ive never felt this way about a stranger before, not like this, deep in my gut. What hold does he have over me, after just a glance?
His eyes bore into mine like he knew my secrets. And the way he carries himself, so sure of himself, its intoxicating.
I feel..._safe_.
Its absurd, but there it is.
What it would be like to know him? To unravel his mysteries?
But I quickly shake off the thought, reminding myself that men like him are trouble. Great for writing songs, awful for building something lasting.
Ive sworn off that kind of trouble after Logan.
The strangers gaze sweeps over, pierces, and melts me from the inside, causing my gut to flare up with nervousness.
My fingers itch to grab a pen, to capture this crackling energy between us on paper.
Lyrics are already forming in my mind, the words swirling together in a desperate attempt to define this overwhelming feeling.
I dont even know his name, yet Im utterly entranced.
He shifts slightly, his intense gaze never leaving mine, and I feel my breath catch. Feeling this intense cant be good.
My brain screams run before I get in too deep, but I cant tear my eyes away from his. Cant stop cataloging every detail of his face—that strong jawline, those full lips, and the intensity lurking in his eyes.
I imagine tracing his faces contours, feeling his skins warmth beneath my fingertips.
What would it be like to lose myself in his embrace?
My throat goes dry.
I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms, trying to anchor myself in reality.
This is insane. I dont know this man.
His body shifts closer, and Im unable to meet his gaze any longer. Nervousness wells up inside me, and I quickly look away, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
I cant believe Im reacting this way to a stranger. I cant afford to be distracted by a handsome face, no matter how captivating he is.
Love is consuming, and romantic love is deadly to my creativity. Because Im bound to get lost in my emotions.
Ill just have to avoid eye contact with him for the rest of the night, thats all. Because I need my energy and emotions for stage, pouring my heart into my music. Thats what I live for.
But hes different.
Enough hiding. Enough of the fa?ade thats Drea Joy, that perfectly packaged pop princess. Shes not me. Not really. Im about to find my true voice, the one buried under layers of industry gloss. Fears been my shadow, lurking, whispering. No more.
I take a deep breath, feeling the resolve tighten in my chest. This is it, the moment to step beyond my trepidation. I inch closer to Damien, my heart hammering a rapid beat.
The intensity of his gaze makes me uncomfortable. I feel as if those eyes can see the real me—the me no one sees but me.
Whats your name? Its a simple question, but my voice quivers slightly.
He turns, a half-smile playing on his lips. Damien, he replies, his eyes scanning my face with genuine interest.
And your hair, he continues, its striking. Hes looking at the mass of reddish-brown waves cascading over my shoulders, not the platinum-blonde wig of Drea Joy. I prefer it natural.
An unexpected warmth floods through me, my stomach fluttering.
He sees me, not the persona. Im raw, exposed, yet it feels right.
Do you need anything before the concert? His voice is dark and raspy, magnetic, completely grabbing my attention.
I take a moment to collect myself, shaking my head slightly, and avert my gaze, afraid of getting lost in his mesmerizing eyes. Instead, I focus on the clothes my stylist laid out for tonights show. And, of course, the wig.
I groan inwardly. Im not this person, I think, but there is nothing I can do about that. Because it’s been a long time since I stopped being myself.
What I need is for all this to end, I whisper. But Damien cant fix that.
The mysterious club owner raises an eyebrow at me. His countenance is painted with confusion, but more than anything, there’s a sharpness in those eyes.
Anyway, thank you, I tell him.
I turn around, and he lets me go, which feels strange to me.
The fabric of my performance outfit clings to my skin—a second persona I slip into. With each piece of clothing, Drea Joys armor takes shape, and Andrea fades further into the background.
Its a transformation Ive done countless times, yet it feels like betrayal every time the zipper seals me in.
I look in the mirror and hardly recognize the person staring back. The freckles that dot my cheeks are hidden under a mask of makeup, and my natural, reddish-brown hair is tucked away, replaced by the signature blonde wig that has become synonymous with Drea Joy.
As I fasten the glittering accessories, I catch the murmur of voices outside the door. Damien is out there, a silent sentinel of patience. The thought of him seeing me like this, as her and not me, tightens something in my chest.
I slip on the towering heels that demand a confident stride I dont feel. The adoration they have for Drea Joy, its suffocating—because its not me they love. Not really.
I take a deep breath, feeling the tightness of the bodice and the weight of the persona. Its like stepping into a cage each time, locking away the girl who dreams of a life where her music speaks her truth.
But that livestream changed everything.
I cant shake the yearning to just be Andrea, to let the world hear the songs I keep hidden in my notebook. But thats a dream for another life.
Right now, I have a show to do. I have to be Drea Joy.
With one last look in the mirror, I square my shoulders, my posture as perfect as the pop star I portray. The door swings open, and I step out, leaving Andrea behind.
But I dont get very far before I stop again.
A familiar voice echoes through the speakers. My eyes dart up at the unmistakably British accent, and there he is, my ex-boyfriend, lounging across the aisle from the stage.
Tall and confident, Logan is the kind of man who immediately catches the eye. Dark hair against light skin and clear blue eyes. Hes a woman magnet. That alone should have warned me to stay far away.
My heart races. Ive kept it to myself, but since we split up, Logans been relentless with texts and calls. Every damn moment, its exhausting.
Why he believes Id make the same mistake twice is beyond me.
Hes the kind of guy Brandon, my agent, hates me dating and warned me to watch out for, though its clear I havent been able to do that. Because, of course, I idiotically love to throw myself into danger.
Id like to think its the strong sense of self and freedom that attracted me more than his bad boy antics. But I guess well never really know. Because Brandon was right about him.
I wanted Logan, but Logan wanted the spotlight.
And yet again, I trusted the wrong man, and it almost ruined my career.
I must have a self-destructive streak, a twisted urge to sabotage my own success. My careers like a precious, delicate vase Im itching to smash.
Logan was just the latest in a long line of bad decisions, each one more catastrophic than the last.
Brandon warned me about him, but I never listen. I guess Im a glutton for punishment.
Now, Im staring at the shattered remnants of my life, wondering how I got here. The tabloids made it so that most promoters and venues want nothing to do with me. And I cant mess up this gig.
Its my first six-figure gig since the infamous break up streamed live on social media.
Yeah…the fucker did that too. And Im supposed to sweep it under the bridge. His tactic blew up his career, and it nearly ended mine.
Logan… the one I thought was different.
But Brandon was right, as usual.
Logan wanted the spotlight, and I was just a stepping stone. And now, my career hangs by a thread, thanks to my poor judgment.
I thought I could handle him, that I was strong enough to resist his games. But I was wrong.
Dead wrong.
Logan played me like a fiddle, and now Im paying the price. My career, my reputation, all tarnished because I couldnt resist the allure of a handsome face and a wicked grin.
Ive got to get it together, pick up the pieces of my shattered life, and rebuild. But first, I need to accept the cold, hard truth: Im the one to blame for this mess. Im the one who trusted the wrong man, and now Im paying the price.
No more bad boys for me.
Logan saunters a few steps and then casually crosses my path, blocking my way as if everything is cool between us.
Hey, Drea. I was looking forward to seeing you here.
Logan. My lips draw his name like its poison. I cross my arms and try to pull away. Id be lying if I told you the feeling was mutual.
My words dont hurt him or even seem to affect him. Logan takes a step toward me and reaches out a hand, brushing my elbow with his long, slender fingers.
We need to talk, he whispers. Drea?—
Dont do this, I say, my voice shaking. We have nothing to talk about. Just finish your set and leave me alone.
Anger flashes across Logans face. I step back and bump into a strong form.
The panther…
Damiens hands grip my hips, anchoring me. I immediately feel at ease, a sense of security washing over me. This is new—the feeling of being protected, truly protected.
Growing up, I never had that. My dads rages left me cowering, bracing for the next explosion. Mom checked out, lost in her shattered dreams. I learned to fend for myself, to never rely on anyone for safety.
I walk on eggshells even with Brandon, who feels like a father figure. One wrong move could trigger his controlling behavior. His protection is a gilded cage, keeping me small to possess me.
But Damien...his touch sparks reassurance, not fear. I glance up at the intensity in his eyes, the muscle ticking in his clenched jaw. His focus is on the threat—Logan charging forward—shielding me with his body.
My hand covers Damiens, where it grips my hip. Solid. Steady.
I whisper, Thank you.
Our gazes lock, the world fading into the depths of his eyes. Im drowning in their olive intensity, their smoldering promise of...what?
Protection, yes, but also...desire?
My breath catches at the banked heat I see there.
What the fuck— Logans voice shatters the moment. Damien moves fast, putting himself between us. A wall of muscle and fierce determination.
My hands splay across the ridges of his back as I take a breath. Heat pulses from his body through mine. Traveling south until a throb vibrates between my thighs. Logan is momentarily forgotten as I press closer to Damiens strength.
This is ridiculous. How can I be aroused now?
But I feel...safe. Cherished, even.
Its a heady, dizzying realization.
And I want more.
Damiens voice rumbles with a low growl as he commands, Listen to Andrea and get out of here.
Logan gives him a sarcastic smile and moves away from him. What happens between me and my girlfriend is none of your business.
Ex-girlfriend, Damien growls, his voice lethal. And its my business as long as shes in my club. He pauses, his gaze boring into Logans. You heard her. Id appreciate it if you returned to your dressing room.
Logan bristles at the order, his jaw clenching. Hes never been one to take orders, but the panther doesnt seem to care.
Without another word, Logan nods, clicking his tongue. See you later, Drea, he states, raising his hand in a farewell and walking until he’s finally out of my sight.
Unable to help myself, I let out a sigh, realizing that I’ve been holding my breath this whole time.
Thank you, I whisper.
The panthers dark eyes, like endless chasms, finally meet mine. I swear I see a flicker of light deep within them, but I shake off the thought as my heart hammers in my chest.
Youre welcome. Ill see to it that hes not a problem for you.
I nod. I hear footsteps behind me, and then, as luck would have it, the figure of my manager appears.
Mr. McAllister, its a pleasure to see you. Thank you for escorting Andrea here, but I can take over now.
Damien McAllister...
His name sounds somehow sensual against my tongue when I whisper it.
Damien nods without saying a word. His gaze never leaves mine, making my insides stir.
Come on, Andrea. Its showtime.
Brandon, my manager, guides me to the stage. He’s a somewhat handsome man for his age, around thirty-five. However, to my eyes, he looks much older than that due to fatigue and constant stress. His hair is dark brown, and his eyes are small and serious.
The suit he wears is, as always, formal, and accompanied by the vinegary worried expression that characterizes him. When I look at him, I cant help but think of the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland.
Interestingly, one of his favorite phrases is also ‘Were running late’, which he uses for everything.
Brandon places a hand kindly on my back and guides me forward until we are only a few steps away from the stage.
Its your moment. Show off, and well have them lining up to book you again, he says.
Giving him a nervous smile, I nod and push my hair out of my face.
Immediately, Brandon tucks my tresses back across my forehead and against my cheeks. He cant bear for me to ruin a single detail of this perfected superstar look.
Sighing, I turn around. I’m holding back the urge to ask the agent to move away from me when I notice something new.
The panther is still at my back. His beefy arms are crossed over his chest, and a stern expression rests on his face. His square jaw is tightly clenched, and his dark gaze is fixed on me.
My heart races helplessly, and Brandon, who can sense my trepidation, turns to look at Mr. McAllister just after I do.
Oh... no. Definitely not him, Andrea.
Why not? I inquire with a frown.
Its not as if I would actually pursue something more with Damien. Were like day and night, from different worlds.
Brandon shakes his head “Damien McAllister has a reputation, and it’s not a good one. He’s the last person I’d want to see you with.”
Oddly, it occurs to me that he’s the first person I’d want to see myself with, but I immediately push that thought out of my head.
Brandon can tell I havent been paying attention to him, so he gives me a slight nudge towards the stage. Well talk about it, honey. For now, focus on your fans and the show.
I nod, knowing that my performance is all I have to think about now.
The stage light focuses on me and the voices in the audience rise in volume until I’m completely deafened.
But I dont care. I just smile, giving myself completely to the music.
The floodlights bathe me in their glow, and I step forward.
Im the centerpiece in Club Allures opulent embrace, the headliner for a night thats all about the music—and yet, so much more.
The roar of the crowd swells, a wave of sound that crashes over me, but its a noise Ive grown accustomed to. For a fleeting moment, its just me and the melody, the familiar lyrics a comforting echo of my turbulent journey here.
I let the music take hold, the rhythm a steady pulse that aligns with my own heartbeat. Its a bittersweet tether, this symphony of adoration from fans who know Drea Joy, but not the girl behind the mask, the girl who craves a sliver of true freedom.
I pour every ounce of that hidden yearning into my performance, my voice a clear call cutting through the noise.
As the melody builds, so does the pressure, a reminder of the invisible chains Brandon has wrapped so tightly around my life. Im aware of every eye on me, the weight of expectations heavy on my shoulders.
Im trapped, a songbird in a gilded cage, and the irony isnt lost on me that Im singing about love and escape, yet Im ensnared by my own success, unsure if I even hold the key to my liberation.
Then, as the song floats on a crescendo through the blinding lights, I see him. A shadow at the edge of the stage.
Damien McAllister.
Our eyes meet, and something shifts within me, an intangible spark. For a heartbeat, Im no longer just Andrea or Drea Joy—Im someone who might actually break free.
I tighten my grip on the microphone, the next verse a vow. I will find a way out. And Damien, he might just be my escape.