Chapter 10
I stretchout on the bed, feeling sated and content.
Andrea snuggles up beside me, her soft curves pressed against my body. The scent of her shampoo mixed with the musky aroma of sex fills my nostrils.
My fingers trace idle patterns along her bare back as I gaze at her peaceful face. In this moment, she looks so young and vulnerable, a stark contrast to the fierce passion she showed just minutes ago.
I want to know everything about this woman. The real her, not the polished pop star persona. I could get Ethan to dig up her background, but that feels too impersonal. Too clinical.
No, I want Andrea to open up to me herself. To trust me with her secrets and insecurities. To bare her soul the way shes bared her body.
Tell me about yourself, I murmur, my voice low and intimate in the pre-dawn quiet. The real you, not Drea Joy.
She tenses slightly at my words, and I feel her walls start to go up. But then she exhales slowly, melting back into my embrace.
What do you want to know?
Everything. I press a soft kiss to her forehead. Your childhood, your dreams, your fears. The things that make you who you are.
Shes silent for a long moment, and I can practically hear the gears turning in her head. Finally, she begins to speak, her voice a hushed whisper.
I grew up in Brooklyn, in a tiny apartment with my parents. They... She pauses, swallowing hard. They werent the best role models, lets just say.
Her hand unconsciously strokes the inside of my forearm, seeking comfort. I tighten my embrace, silently encouraging her to continue.
Music was my escape. My salvation. I taught myself to play guitar and started writing songs as a kid, pouring all my pain and dreams into the lyrics.
I can hear the rawness in her voice, the vulnerability shes allowing me to witness. Its a gift, one I dont take lightly.
Brandon found me when I was fifteen, busking in the park. He promised to make me a star, to give me everything I ever wanted.
Her eyes cloud over with a mix of gratitude and resentment. And he did, in a way. But the price... She trails off, shaking her head.
The pieces are starting to come together, painting a picture of a young girl desperate for love and validation, falling into the manipulative clutches of a man like Brandon.
My blood boils at the thought of anyone exploiting her like that. Of stealing her light and trying to dim it for their own gain.
Youre not trapped anymore, Andrea, I murmur fiercely. Not with me.
She meets my gaze, her aquamarine eyes shimmering with unshed tears. I want to believe that. God, how I want to...
I cup her face in my hands, holding her steady. Then believe it. Trust me.
For an endless heartbeat, we stay frozen like that, our souls laid bare. Then she gives the smallest of nods, and I feel something profound shift between us.
This woman has been to hell and back, yet shes still fighting. Still dreaming of a life where she can be free and whole.
And Ill be damned if I dont help make that dream a reality.
Whos ready for some pasta?
Andreas head pops up. At this hour?
I raise an eyebrow. Arent you the rulebreaker? I tease. Besides, its gotta be dinnertime somewhere, right?
We leave the sheets behind, tired but not yet satiated with each other. We return to the kitchen because we need carbs to fuel our next round.
Andrea stands in the kitchen, my shirt hanging loosely on her, just a few buttons fastened. Her curves, so inviting, but I need to save our dinner, or rather, now, our breakfast.
As I stare at her, my blood boils, aching to tear her clothes off and claim her mouth again, but I rein it in. Five orgasms in one night may not quench my thirst, but its enough to satiate me for now and let her catch her breath. Next time, Ill aim higher.
Andreas eyes cloud over, and she takes a deep breath. Its not a happy story, she says, her voice neutral, as if shes practiced this line a thousand times.
I know it wont be, I reply, reaching out to squeeze her hand.
She looks up and looks at me and frowns slightly. What about you, Chef Ramsay? You cooked during your vacation in Tuscany, and then what?
Thats not the point, I say.
You cant demand anything from me if you dont give me something in return.
I thought I gave you more than just something in return.
Andreas cheeks burn red. You know thats not what I meant.
She looks at me with a gleam of insistence in her light blue orbs and I understand she wont let this go, so I decide to change tactics.
You first, and then well see if I tell you my sob story.
Andrea frowns a lot more, which makes her expression look like a sexy pout, but she finally relents.
She shrugs and looks back down at her plate I sit in front of her.
Andreas lips purse as her gaze drops to the plate. My childhood was...difficult. She exhales slowly. Dad was a drunk who took out his frustrations on Mom. And she lived in a fantasy world, completely unprepared for reality.
Her fingers toy with the silverware, eyes downcast. They never should have had a kid. I was just caught in the crossfire of their mess.
Andreas knuckles whiten on the utensils as she falls silent, jaw clenched.
I nod slowly, taking in Andreas words as she recounts her difficult childhood. The weight of her experiences hangs heavy in the air between us.
She sighs, her fingers idly twisting a strand of her reddish-brown hair. My father left when I was seven, which would have been great, but he took the money with him.
A rueful smile ghosts across her lips, her eyes clouding with memories. Mom would go out in the evenings, claiming to be working, but she always came back with less money than we had to start with.
I imagine a young Andrea, her belly growling with hunger, waiting alone in that run-down apartment for a mother who couldnt be bothered to provide for her. My jaw clenches at the injustice of it all.
She glances up at me, a hint of challenge in her gaze. Back then, boxes of macaroni and cheese and instant soup seemed like a real delicacy to me, even if they dont to you.
The slight dismissal in her tone stings, a reminder of the vast chasm between our upbringings. But I dont let it deter me.
What happened? How did you get out of that situation? I ask gently, leaning forward to show her she has my full attention.
Andrea seems to consider her words carefully. After a moment, she gestures vaguely, as if waving away the dark memories. At ten or twelve Mom discovered that I did in fact have a talent for music.
A wistful smile softens her features. She said I inherited it from my grandfather, but she never specified which one. She started getting me into auditions and somehow the money was enough to make ends meet.
I can picture it—a young Andrea, her voice soaring with raw talent, captivating audiences and judges alike. A glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak existence.
When I was about fifteen or sixteen, Brandon discovered me and got me signed to the label he works with. Her expression hardens, the melancholy replaced by a steely resolve. Since then, hes kept track of everything and taken care of me.
I detect the slightest tremor in her voice, a crack in the armor shes built around herself. In that moment, Im struck by her resilience, her unwavering determination to survive against all odds.
But I also sense the weight she carries, the toll her past has taken. And the overwhelming urge to shield her from any further pain or heartbreak takes root.
My fingers itch to reach out, to offer the comfort of a simple touch. But I resist, sensing she needs space to process these raw emotions.
So I sit in silence, letting the weight of her words sink in, marveling at the strength of the woman before me. And though a thousand questions swirl in my mind, I know now is not the time to push.
For now, Ill simply be here, a steady presence in the storm. I sit beside her, listening.
For days this woman haunted me.
Those big, soulful eyes that seem to carry the weight of the world. That pouty mouth that begs to be kissed. The soft waves of her reddish-brown hair cascading over her shoulders.
I couldnt get Andrea out of my head.
In the days since our first meeting at the concert on Friday, Ive consumed every video, article, and blog post about her alter ego Drea Joy Kingsley. Ive watched her music videos on a loop, mesmerized by the raw vulnerability she pours into her performances.
And the more I learn about her, the more Im drawn in. Like a moth to an irresistible flame.
Part of me wants to run far away. To protect myself from the kind of hurt I experienced with Natalie. That betrayal cut me so fucking deep and left scars that I doubt will ever fully heal.
But another part of me cant stay away. Andreas music speaks to the desires and emotions I buried long ago.
I listen to her song Broken on repeat, letting the haunting melody and achingly honest lyrics wash over me. With every spin, Im more certain—this woman understands my pain in a way no one else ever could.
Then Ethan brought that security footage of someone sneaking into her dressing room after the show. My blood ran cold seeing the potential threat to her.
In that moment, I knew there was no way I could stay away. She needs me, whether she realizes it yet or not.
I have to protect her. From whoever is stalking her...and from the storm of feelings raging inside me.
My jaw clenches as I remember the smug look on that asshole Brandons face when I confronted him about the stalker situation. That slimeball is supposed to be her manager, her protector. But all he cares about is money and control.
Well, hes about to learn you dont fuck with whats mine. Andrea may not know it yet, but she belongs to me now.
My fingers flex with the need to pull her into my arms, to shield her from the harsh realities of this cruel world. To make her forget all the pain and heartbreak of her past.
Nothing about the story shes telling me mirrors those shared on social media posts and interviews, nor the details shared by her team when I reached out to book her.
Like a miraculous apparition, Drea Joy seemed to materialize out of thin air. Whenever anyone spoke of her success, theyd mention it blossomed at a tender age, but no one ever delved into her past.
Her story, overall, matches the lyrics printed on her back, the lyrics of her song. ‘Broken’ must be a sort of reminder of all she’s been through.
However, that still doesnt explain the symbol tattooed underneath it.
Reluctant to continue talking, Andrea decides its time to question me. What about you? Why did you only see your grandmother on vacations?
Summer and vacation time were the only times my parents bothered to remember I existed, I said, a bitter edge creeping into my voice. Theyd ship me off to my grandparents place as soon as the school year ended. Boarding school was a year-round thing for me.
Andreas eyes widened slightly. Boarding school? For how long?
I shrugged, mouth pressed into a thin line. Pretty much my whole childhood. No need to sugarcoat it. My parents were workaholics. Having a kid underfoot was an inconvenience they avoided at all costs.
Her brow furrowed in concern. I could see the questions forming behind her eyes.
They stashed me away from kindergarten on. Only saw them a few weeks each summer when they couldnt pawn me off somewhere else. I forced a humorless chuckle. Guess thats the price of having wealthy but negligent parents.
Andreas hand extended towards me, her eyes brimming with empathy. Im sorry you went through that.
I shrugged, trying to brush off the a pang of loneliness. It is what it is.
I give Andreas hand a gentle squeeze. She returns a faint smile. If things were that bad, why didnt you go live with your grandma?
They stuck her in a nursing home once she hit a certain age. After that, I wasnt allowed to see her. I pause, the memories resurfacing. When my grandmother passed away, all alone and forgotten, I decided I wanted nothing to do with my parents anymore. I moved out at fourteen and have been on my own ever since.
Andreas eyes glisten with sorrow. Damien, thats horrible.
Shaking my head, I dismiss her pity. Its not as bad as what youve been through.
My mom was a mess, but at least she was around sometimes. She exhales heavily. Even if it wasnt much.
My parents were never there. Not once. I give her hand another reassuring squeeze. But I dont need them. Im better off.
She regards me with a solemn expression, almost as if she pities my fate more than her own nightmarish upbringing.
No one should be left to survive alone like that, beholden to the whims of a completely unknown man.
As if this conversation had tempted fate, the apartment door opens, and footsteps can be heard down the hallway.
What the fuck...? I whisper.
Oh, this wont be good.
Andreas complexion has gone pale. She quickly gets to her feet, just as her manager enters the kitchen.
Brandons demeanor shifts in an instant, his once-kind expression contorting into a mask of fury. His cheeks redden, and his mustache quivers, dancing above his tense lip.
What is he doing here?
His dismissive reference to me wipes out my already thin patience.
With a resolute stride, I advance until Im planted between him and Andrea, my gaze boring into Brandon as if hes an unwanted pest Im itching to crush.
Seeing Andrea.
The words hang in the air, taunting him. Brandons face flushes crimson, his mustache twitching with barely contained rage. I stare him down, unblinking, daring him to make the next move.
Silence stretches thick between us. The truth is, Andrea and I havent put a label on..._this_.
But the way my pulse thrums and my skin tingles, whenever shes near, tells me its more than just physical. Im already in too deep to turn back now, no matter how dangerous the game.
What does this mean?
Brandons face shifts from crimson to purple from anger as Andrea stands up, stepping between the two of us trying to calm the situation.
Whats going on is...
Andrea and I are together, I finish for her, placing my arm around her shoulders. She looks at me with her mouth open in shock.
Me in my boxers and her wearing only my dress shirt only highlights my point. And I wont tolerate you talking to her that way.
Brandon seems to puff up like a blowfish.
Drea... he starts to say.
Brandon... Im sorry, but Damien is right. Somewhat. The last part in a whisper, but I know that Brandon didn’t hear it. I know youre trying to protect me, but who I date is only my business.
Brandons jaw drops, and he seems unable to recover.
It is my business. Everything that concerns you concerns me.”
Her mouth agape, Andreas eyes burned into Brandons. This isnt your call. She took a steadying breath, her chest rising beneath the oversized dress shirt. I appreciate you looking out for me, but who I date is my choice alone.
Brandon recoiled, jaw tensing. Silence stretched as he struggled to formulate a response.
I watched the tension simmer, ready to step in if needed. But a part of me knows Andrea must to confront this herself.
You manage my career. Not my life.
And you think he wont affect your career? Brandon shrieks.
Keep referring to me as if Im not standing here. My voice sounds calm, but both of us know that it’s full of dangerous intent.
Brandon stumbles back, his eyes wide with fear. I dont even have to move. Hes right about one thing: my reputation precedes me. And if he knows that much, he should know what Im capable of.
Andrea steps forward. Brandon, Ill get dressed, and then well go to rehearsal. We can talk about this, but Im not giving in. Its my life, and I decide on this, she says firmly, her chin held high.
Andrea marches off, her steps purposeful as she heads for the bedroom.
I track her movements, eyes lingering on the curve of her body until Brandons stricken expression snaps me back. Narrowing my eyes, I hold his gaze steadily. He knows I wont let this go easily.
The fucker flares his nostrils like a bull ready to charge, but its of no consequence to me.
If hes itching for a war, hed better brace himself for a swift defeat.
Ive made up my mind. I want Andrea, and no one, not even this asshole, will stop me.
Andrea Kingsley, you have no idea what youve awoken in me.
But youre about to find out.