Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Hilary
If someone had told me a week ago I’d be sitting in a high-end Manhattan recording studio waiting room while DJ Mars recorded a song with Bella, I would’ve laughed.
Or checked myself for a concussion.
The lounge is… ridiculous.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city like it belongs to whoever signs the checks here.
There’s a leather sofa so soft I’m afraid to sit on it wrong.
A massive conference table with eight chairs that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
A snack and coffee bar that looks like it could sustain a small army of divas and executives.
It’s big.
Intimidating in a quiet way.
But somehow comfortable, too.
Like money wrapped in a weighted blanket.
Three hours.
They’ve been in there three hours.
I’ve texted Adrianna twice.
Me
Ad, everything’s fine. Bella’s killing it. Don’t stress. Just concentrate on growing that sweet baby.
She replied with seventeen heart emojis and a warning not to let Bella drink too much coffee.
I met Balor and Lucy Cruz earlier—owners of this place and powerhouse couple. Apparently, Lucy is an honest to God Volkov.
Yeah, that billionaire dynasty.
And her husband, Balor? He is intense.
Tall. Broad. Mismatched eyes that feel like they’re looking through you instead of at you.
He scared me. Until he turned toward his wife.
The shift was instant.
Soft.
Devoted.
Lucy Cruz is stunning in a way that makes you forget how to form sentences.
But the way he looks at her? Like she hung the moon.
Seeing that did something to me.
Because powerful men softening for the right woman? Apparently, that’s my new kryptonite.
They left about an hour ago.
Now it’s just me. Alone.
Trying very hard not to think about the fact that David is on the other side of the hall.
Creating.
Singing.
Rapping.
Being brilliant.
All things he’s done for years before he knew me.
The door opens, and I straighten.
A man steps in—mid-thirties maybe, about five-ten, warm eyes, easy smile.
“Hi,” he says. “I’m Jake. I come bearing sustenance.”
He lifts a large cardboard box.
I sniff and I sigh—yessss.
Chinese takeout.
What could be better?
I smile automatically.
“Great! I’m Hilary. Are they taking a break soon?”
“Should be,” he says, setting the box down on the table. “They’ve been grinding hard.”
We fall into an easy rhythm as we unpack cartons—lo mein, spare ribs, broccoli and tofu swimming in garlic sauce, sesame chicken, dumplings, fried rice.
The holy trinity of late-night studio fuel.
Jake moves around the conference table like he’s done this a thousand times.
He’s friendly. Easy. I feel comfortable with him there in a way that doesn’t require effort.
He’s polished in that music-industry way that says he knows how to read a room, close a deal, smooth an ego. But he’s personable, too.
Quick smile. Quick wit. No edge.
“So,” he says, popping open the dumplings, “how do you know David?”
Casual. But curious.
“Um, he’s visiting a friend in my hometown,” I reply, setting out plates. “I own a bookstore.”
His brows lift. “A bookstore?”
“Last time I checked.”
“Ooooh,” he says, pointing a chopstick at me. “So you’re one of those book girls.”
I pause mid-reach.
“One of those book girls?”
“You know. Quiet. Mysterious. Probably into morally questionable fictional men and smut.”
I snort. “I am an avid reader and lover of books, yes. But I can assure you I am not a girl, thank you very much. I’m all woman.”
His eyes flick down and back up—quick, appreciative, but not gross about it.
“Noted,” he says with a grin.
Now it’s my turn to laugh.
He’s nice. Truly.
Warm eyes. Good smile. The kind of man you’d happily sit next to at a wedding and split a dessert with.
But there’s nothing.
No spark.
No electricity snapping under my skin.
No awareness crawling up my spine.
No instinct to lean closer just because he’s breathing the same air.
Jake’s attractive. Objectively.
And yet my body reacts like he just handed me a library card.
Polite interest. Nothing more.
Which is honestly inconvenient.
Because if I were capable of feeling this calm, steady neutrality around David, my life would be significantly less complicated right now.
He could lean closer.
He could flirt.
He could ask me out right now.
And I’d feel polite about refusing.
That’s it. Not even regret.
Just a short no thanks.
The studio door opens.
My heart reacts before my brain does.
Bella bursts in first, glowing.
“That was insane!” she gushes. “Larry, you have to hear the hook!”
David follows behind her.
And the second his eyes land on me—everything shifts.
He takes in the table. The food. Jake, who for some reason is standing a little too close.
David’s jaw tightens.
Just barely.
Most people wouldn’t notice.
I do.
Jake turns, smiling easily. “Perfect timing. We’ve got food.”
David’s gaze flicks to him.
Then back to me.
“Thanks,” he says, tone controlled.
Too controlled.
Bella is already talking a mile a minute, grabbing dumplings and replaying parts of the track on her phone.
But David?
He’s watching.
Watching me.
Watching the space between Jake and me.
There’s something dark in his eyes.
Something possessive.
And it hits me all over again.
I move away, just a small step, but I take it.
Then Jake moves closer and hands me a container.
Our fingers brush.
It’s nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
But when I glance at David?
Oh.
Oh shit.
His shoulders go rigid.
And for a second, I feel like I just committed adultery.
But I feel something else, too. Something dangerous.
Hope sparks in my chest so fast it almost hurts.
Because that look?
That’s not casual.
That’s not indifferent.
That’s not a man who kissed me on a whim.
That’s a man who does not like the idea of someone else standing too close.
And suddenly—maybe I do believe in magic after all.
And maybe I’m not the only one who’s in trouble here.