22. Twenty-Two
Twenty-Two
Luke
The air inside the recording studio feels electric, humming with the anticipation that comes whenever we’re laying down new tracks. The other guys are scattered around the room—Cass and Kendrick are sitting close together on the couch, talking, while Sam is fiddling with his bass, lost in his own world. Nate lounges behind the drum kit, tapping out a rhythm just to keep his hands moving.
It’s chaos, but it’s our chaos. And somehow, it always works.
My fingers find the keys automatically, muscle memory taking over as the band works through our newest track .
“One more time from the bridge,” Emily calls through the control room mic. “Luke, can you add more complexity to that chord progression?”
I adjust, letting the music flow through me. This is what I’m good at—speaking through sixty-one keys and sound waves, letting the instrument say what I can’t.
“Perfect!” Emily’s grin lights up the booth. “That’s the one.”
Vince stretches his dark hair messy from running his hands through it. “Finally. Hey Luke, want to grab dinner?”
“Can’t,” I say, standing, probably too quickly. “Meeting with Crystal later.”
Everybody exchanges looks. They’ve been careful not to push, but I know they sense something’s off. The whole band has been walking on eggshells since the engagement announcement.
“Everything okay, man?” Nate asks carefully.
“Working on it.” I force a smile. “Just... give me some time?”
“Okay,” Emily says, exiting the sound booth.
Kendrick approaches and squeezes my arm. “But you know we’re here if you need us, right? ”
“I know.”
They file out, leaving me alone with my keyboard. This is my favorite time in the studio—just me and the music, no expectations or complications.
I sit down, letting my fingers find the melody that’s been haunting me for weeks, letting it flow through my fingers. It started the night of the first kiss with Lila, and it’s grown with every stolen moment since. But the words won’t come. Every time I try to capture what I’m feeling, the lyrics fail me.
The notes rise and fall like waves, like the way she emerged from the ocean that one morning. I haven’t seen her properly in days—we’re both being careful, staying busy, avoiding temptation. But the music remembers every detail: the taste of sea salt on her skin, the way she fits against me, the sound of her laughter…
The notes swell under my hands, the melody growing more urgent. The music is saying everything I can’t.
When I finally stop, the silence feels deafening. I close my eyes, resting my hands on the keys, and exhale slowly.
“That was beautiful,” a voice says, startling me.
I look up sharply to see Kendrick standing in the doorway, her notebook tucked under one arm.
“How long have you been there?” I ask, feeling a flush creep up my neck.
“Long enough,” she says with a small smile. She steps into the room, closing the door behind her. “What’s the story behind that melody?”
I shake my head. “It’s just something I’ve been messing around with. No lyrics yet.”
Kendrick raises an eyebrow, dropping into the chair beside me. “That’s not like you. You’re usually so quick with words.”
I laugh bitterly. “Not this time. Every lyric I’ve come up with feels wrong. Too shallow.”
She studies me for a moment, then flips open her notebook. “Play it again.”
I hesitate, then let the music flow. Kendrick closes her eyes, swaying slightly as the notes fill the room. When I finish, she opens her eyes and flips through her notebook.
“Try this,” she says softly and starts to sing .
Her lyrics catch me off guard—they’re about hidden love and stolen moments, about wanting something you can’t have yet, about hope and waiting, and the space between now and soon.
“How did you...”
“I’ve been there, remember?” She smiles knowingly. “Also, I’ve seen the way you look at Lila when you think no one’s watching.”
My hands freeze over the keys. “Kendrick...”
“Don’t worry.” She scribbles something in her notebook. “I’m good at keeping secrets—and I assume you have your reasons. Now, try the bridge again, but slower this time.”
For the next hour, we work on bringing the song to life, my fingers dancing across the keys as her words weave perfectly with my melody, telling the story I couldn’t find words for.
“You should sing it,” she says finally.
I shake my head. “I’m not a singer.”
“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ve heard you in soundcheck. You’ve got the voice for this one.”
I prefer just playing,“ I say firmly .
“Emily’s been trying to get all of you to do solos,” she points out. “Because she knows what she’s doing.” Kendrick tears the pages from her notebook. “Take these. Work on it. When you’re ready...”
“Thanks.” I tuck the lyrics carefully away. “For everything.”
“Just...” She hesitates at the door. “Make sure you know what you’re doing.” Then, in a softer voice, “I won’t say anything about the song, but you should think about it. This one’s too good to hide away.”
I nod, unable to trust my voice. Once she’s gone, I play through the melody one more time, letting Kendrick’s words bring shape to everything I’ve been feeling, everything I can’t say—at least not yet.
I pack up slowly, knowing Crystal’s waiting at some overpriced restaurant to discuss flower arrangements or table settings or whatever else she’s planned for tonight.
But I take Kendrick’s lyrics with me, tucking them safely away like the secrets they tell. Once this charade is over, I’ll find the courage to sing them.
Until then, I’ll let the music speak for me.
The Davidson mansion is a study in tasteful excess—crystal chandeliers, museum-quality art, and tonight, Jacksonville’s elite mingling over cocktails.
I spot Crystal near the entrance, wearing a dress that screams high society. She beams when she sees me, looping her arm through mine before I even have a chance to say hello.
“There you are,” she says brightly. “You’re late.”
“Traffic,” I mutter, letting her steer me toward the house.
“Why do you insist on driving that ridiculous Jeep?” She asks me, then without waiting for my answer, she continues, “Once we’re married, I’ll insist you purchase a nicer car.” With a calculating look in her eyes. “Maybe a Ferrari or a sleek Mercedes, something more elegant, and sleek. You know, something a rockstar should drive.”
I grimace but don’t even bother to try and change her mind. We’re so close to ending this charade that the wait is becoming unbearable.
The moment we step inside, I spot them—Robert Chen and William Hartley, two key members of Sterling Motors’ board. They’re standing near the bar, drinks in hand, chatting with Marcus like old friends.
Crystal must notice where my gaze lands because she leans closer, her voice low. “Daddy’s just getting them up to speed. Isn’t this exciting? Once the deal goes through, Sterling Motors will be unstoppable.”
I grit my teeth, forcing a neutral expression. “Yeah. Exciting.”
Marcus catches sight of me and waves us over. His smile is all teeth, and the glint in his eye makes my skin crawl.
“Luke!” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Glad you could make it. You remember Robert and William, don’t you?”
“Of course,” I say, shaking their hands.
“We were just discussing the future of the company,” Marcus continues, his tone dripping with faux enthusiasm. “Big things ahead, right, gentlemen?”
Robert and William nod, their expressions guarded. I can’t tell if they’re genuinely on board with Marcus or just playing along.
“Your father and I go way back.” William Hartley shares, crystal tumbler in hand. “Speaking of Jim, where is he tonight?”
“Under the weather,” I lie smoothly, exactly as Jaxson instructed. “He sent his regrets.”
Marcus’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Such a shame. We had so much to discuss. But with Jim’s declining health, it’s probably best he’s not here. The mental and physical strain are taking their toll.”
The implied notion of my father’s declining mental capabilities makes my shoulders tense, but I maintain my practiced smile. Somewhere in this house, Gibson’s team is putting their plan into action. I just have to play my part. Jaxson’s words echo in my head: Marcus will use tonight to solidify his plans. We need evidence.
I glance around the room, searching for any sign of Jaxson or his team. He told me everything was under control, but that doesn’t stop the knot of tension in my chest from tightening.
Another guest approaches, and Marcus turns his attention away. Crystal immediately latches onto my arm, dragging me around for introductions like I’m her favorite new accessory.
I’m midway through another mindless conversation when I spot him—one of Marcus’s new staff looks eerily familiar. It takes me a moment to place him. He’s one of Jaxson’s men. He’s dressed as part of the staff, blending in with the servers carrying trays of drinks. He lingers near the edge of the room, his movements purposeful yet unassuming.
My heart rate kicks up, but I maintain my practiced smile as Crystal introduces me to yet another member of high society who can’t hide their enthusiasm in meeting a celebrity rockstar with the Wild Band.
I track Jaxson’s man from the corner of my eye as he efficiently works the room. What the hell is Jaxson thinking, putting someone this close to Marcus?
“Dinner is ready to be served,” Lila announces from the doorway.
She looks completely professional in her chef’s whites, but the sight of her here, in Marcus’s territory, makes my stomach clench. When I’d told Jaxson absolutely not to involve her, I never imagined she’d accept the job on her own.
“Everything smells amazing,” Crystal gushes. “Daddy, wasn’t I right about hiring her?”
“Indeed.” Marcus studies Lila with calculating eyes. “Quite the coup, getting such a highly recommended chef, who just happens to be your fiancé‘ s next-door neighbor.”
“I go where the opportunities are,” Lila replies smoothly, not even glancing my way. “Shall we begin with the first course?”
Throughout dinner, I divide my attention between the conversation and Jaxson’s undercover man. He moves with practiced ease, but I notice him drifting closer to the hallway that leads to Marcus’s study whenever possible.
The wine pairing is exquisite,“ Chen comments as the staff serves the third course.
“I have an excellent wine stewart,” Lila responds, topping off Marcus’s glass. “Though I believe Mr. Davidson’s cellar provided tonight’s selections.”
Marcus preens at the compliment, glancing at Chen. “Perhaps you’d like a tour of the wine cellar later? I have some rare vintages...”
That’s when I see Jaxson’s man slip away from the dining room, heading toward the study.
My pulse quickens.
The conversation at the dinner table continues for a few minutes, drifting toward casual topics, but my eyes secretly watch the hallway for any sign of motion .
Suddenly, Marcus clears his throat and stands, his chair scraping against the floor. “Robert, William,” he says, his tone casual but firm. “Why don’t we step into my study for a moment? There are a few details I’d like to share privately regarding Sterling Motors’ future.”
Fear knots in my chest. Jaxson’s man is still in the study, and if Marcus catches him, this entire operation is blown.
Before the panic can fully set in, there’s a tremendous crash from the hallway. The sound of shattering glass echoes through the house.
Marcus’s face darkens. “What the bloody hell—“
All eyes turn toward the hallway when Lila appears. She steps forward discreetly. “I apologize for disturbing you, Mr. Davidson. It appears we’ll need another bottle from your cellar. The ’82 Bordeaux...”
“This is completely unacceptable,” Marcus snaps. “I don’t appreciate this level of incompetence with my wine collection. Your staff—“
“Actually, sir,” Lila interrupts, her voice perfectly modulated, “the young man who dropped the bottle is one of your household staff, not mine. My team is exclusively in the kitchen. ”
The silence that follows is profound. I hide my snicker in my napkin.
Marcus recovers quickly. “Yes, well... Perhaps this is an opportunity. Robert, William—I’ve been meaning to show you my wine cellar. Some exceptional vintages you might appreciate before we discuss business.”
“Wonderful idea,” Crystal chirps. “Luke, dear, do you want to join them?”
“Of course,” I say, standing. “I’d love to see your father’s collection.”
As we follow Marcus toward the cellar, I pass close to Lila. Our eyes meet briefly, and I’m struck by the tension in hers. She knows something—something that makes her worried.
But there’s no time to decode her look. Marcus is already launching into a detailed history of his wine collection, leading us past his study where, hopefully, Jaxson’s man has found whatever we need.
Once we emerge from the wine cellar a few minutes later, I catch a glimpse of Jaxson’s man slipping back into position, adjusting his uniform. Whatever he did in the study, he’s done now.
The night isn’t over, though. As Marcus leads the two board members into his study, he firmly shuts the door, excluding me from their business plans. And judging by the careful way Lila’s watching everything, there’s more happening here than even I understand.
I just pray that whatever the PI team had planned worked because being this close to Marcus while he plots against my father is getting harder by the second.
A cold fury starts to build as I watch Lila direct her staff with too much precision, her timing too perfect. If she’s involved in this—after I explicitly told Gibson to keep her out of it—there will be hell to pay—for both of them.