Chapter 24
Tinted windows and shrinking distances.
The door closed with a soft thunk, and the car took off. For a beat, they were surrounded by quiet. Just the low hum of the engine and the rustle of the city stirring outside.
The interior of the SUV smelled faintly of leather and something citrusy, discreet, and exclusive. Emma felt foolish for expecting a cab or an Uber. Of course he would have a private chauffeur. She reached for the seatbelt, careful not to spill her coffee.
Darren gave an amused snort. “Oh, so now you’re all safety first.” He removed his sunglasses and hooked them on his shirt, but followed her example.
Emma clicked her belt into place, the sound unnaturally loud. Sitting beside him like this felt different. More intimate somehow than the cramped, chaotic car ride yesterday, and even harder to process than their private lunch.
The hidden, faintly lit restaurant had been its own bubble. A setting that invited closeness and confessions, like the soft hush of nighttime.
Sitting side by side like this, chauffeur up front, sunlight streaming past, felt too real. Too normal, and yet anything but.
It wasn’t his movie star status that unsettled her anymore, or even her long-standing celebrity crush. It was how easily something else seemed to be taking its place. Whether she wanted to or not.
He took a sip of his coffee, glancing over at her.
“I have to say, I understand why you chose potential death in a malfunctioning elevator over disappointing Leah. She’s vaguely terrifying. I’ll admit to hesitating for a moment before I had Sienna reach out to her for your number.”
Emma chuckled, tasting her coffee. It was perfect—a foamy mocaccino with just the slightest hint of hazelnut syrup. The ripple of warmth that moved through her wasn’t from the coffee alone. He’d remembered.
“Well, at least she gave you the right number, not the one to the nearest Domino’s,” she said.
The quip didn’t quite land—too light, too casual. Their eyes met, and a charged flicker passed between them—quiet, but heavy with implications.
Emma glanced away. “I hope you didn’t get it with a side of death threats,” she added. “Leah can be a bit . . . protective.”
“I’ve noticed,” Darren said dryly. Then, softer: “And no, actually. She just told me to take care of you. The ‘or else’ was heavily implied.”
Despite the joke, the note of sincerity in his voice pulled at something in her throat. “Yeah. That sounds like her.”
His car, his world—and Leah practically handing her over to him like something precious. She wasn’t used to feeling so looked after.
“So,” she said briskly, attempting again to break the tension. “This is what movie star life is like, huh? A-lister party yesterday, private chauffeur . . .”
“Actually,” Darren said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I hate being driven around. Most people are terrible drivers.”
“Oh, of course they are,” Emma said, lips twitching. “Except you, I assume?”
Darren nodded, fully serious. “Indeed. Max insists on drivers when I’m away, but whenever I’m home, I like to take my old Mini out for a spin in the countryside, just roaming around. There are few things that can compete with driving to make you feel absolutely, totally free.”
Emma hummed. “Sounds nice. Except for the part about you driving. In my experience, people who claim to be excellent drivers are usually road-raging maniacs who think traffic rules are for the elderly and the peasants.”
“I beg to differ,” Darren protested. “They are reasonable suggestions that may be disregarded if deemed superfluous.”
“Yeah.” She clicked her tongue. “Seems my theory holds.”
The banter came easy—just as easy as telling him about her somber family history yesterday. Talking with him was light-years away from what she’d have expected before they met. Her bar had pretty much been set at “not fainting.”
Still, he had those brief moments where she felt something else behind his eyes. Easy conversation or not, she barely knew him. Leah wasn’t wrong. It was probably smart to be cautious.
Silence fell for a moment. Darren seemed to sense that her mind was somewhere else.
“You said yesterday you’re getting tired of the dark antagonist roles,” Emma finally said, keeping her voice light. “What drew you to them in the first place?”
Darren didn’t answer directly. He glanced sideways at her as if assessing. Emma looked back, lifting her chin a fraction.
“I have a feeling you’ve already heard me answer that,” he said.
An cooler note crept into his voice. But she’d shared much more personal things than that with him, hadn’t she?
“I’ve heard your public answer,” she countered. “And nothing about how it started.”
He sighed, taking another sip of his coffee. Then he leaned an arm on the seat in front of him and stared out through the windshield.
“Well, this isn’t the public answer. But I wasn’t in a great place when Midnight Dominion came up for casting.
I’d been through a . . . pretty rough breakup, and everything in my life felt out of my hands.
Sebastian Vale was a character who was always strong, always in control.
And I guess I was drawn to that, since I had so little of it in my real life.
Maybe I even thought it felt . . . right, to play the villain. Like it was fitting.”
Guilt prickled under Emma’s skin. Midnight Dominion was nearly a decade old, yet fans were still wild for the mesmeric, relentless power he’d poured into Sebastian. She should know—she was one of them.
She’d impatiently awaited each dark, dangerous role he took on after that. Hell, she even endured Darkreach to watch him as Kael.
It landed differently, knowing that his performance had come from a place of hurt. It must have been the Alana breakup he was talking about.
“So yeah, I kind of liked it,” Darren said, his expression tightening. “Until I didn’t. But by then, it was already what everybody wanted from me. The fans, the casting people—I realized too late that I’d boxed myself into a corner.”
Emma clutched the cup a little harder. She wanted to ask what it meant for Lucen, but before she could find the courage, the car swung around a corner. The convention center loomed into view, steel and glass catching the sun.
Darren shifted in his seat. “Alright, Emma,” he said lightly. “Let’s see what this Con has to offer.”
But she caught it—his jaw still a shade too tight, a shadow lingering in his eyes. And she couldn’t tell if he’d just let her closer, or was pushing her farther away.