“Early tonight,” Zach said without looking up from his screen. I finished my work early.
Mave ran out of ways to torture me for the day. That got his attention.
He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. Ah, torture. Novi waved a hand dismissively. Nothing I can’t handle.
Zack studied her for a moment, those charcoal black eyes seeing more than she wanted them to, but he didn’t press.
Give me 10 minutes, he said, turning back to his laptop. I need to finish this email.
Take your time. Novi settled into her usual armchair, tucking her legs beneath her. This had become her favorite spot in the entire mansion.
This chair in this room, watching Zach work while she waited to sing him to sleep.
It was domestic. It was intimate. It was probably going to break her heart eventually, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
She let her eyes wander around the room, cataloging details she’d memorized weeks ago. The minimal furniture, the expensive art, the complete absence of personal photographs, no pictures of family, no mmentotos from childhood, nothing that suggested this room belonged to a real person with a history and connections.
Just empty luxury. You’re staring. Novi blinked. Zach had closed his laptop and was watching her with an unreadable expression.
Sorry, I was just thinking about about how impersonal this room is. The words slipped out before she could stop them.
There’s nothing here that tells me who you are. No photos, no keepsakes, no anything.
Zach’s expression flickered. Surprise, maybe or discomfort. I don’t like clutter. It’s not about clutter.
It’s about Novi hesitated. Memory, connection, things that remind you who you are when you forget.
I never forget who I am. Lucky you. They stared at each other. The air between them felt charged on heavy with something neither of them was willing to name.
Then Zach looked away. I spoke to someone today, he said, and the abrupt topic change made Novi blink.
About your singing. Her heart stuttered. What? I have a contact at Monarch Records, one of the biggest labels in Chicago.
He stood and crossed to a small table, picking up a business card. His name is Darius Webb.
He’s a producer, one of the best in the industry. I told him about you.
No’s mouth fell open. You You did? I told you I would. Zach held out the card.
He wants to meet you tomorrow if you’re available. Novi stared at the card like it might bite her.
Darius Webb, senior producer, Monarch Records. This was real. This was actually happening. I I don’t know what to say.
Say you’ll go. Zach’s voice was flat, but his eyes held something warmer. Say you’ll show him what I heard that first night.
Novi took the card with trembling fingers. Why are you doing this? She whispered. Really?
Zach was quiet for a moment. Because your voice is extraordinary, he said finally. Because you have a gift that shouldn’t be wasted cleaning bathrooms.
And because. He stopped. Because. His jaw tightened. Because you helped me. This is repayment.
Nothing more. Nothing more. The words stung more than they should have, but Novi forced a smile and tucked the card into her pocket.
Thank you, she said softly. For everything. Zach nodded once, then turned toward the bed.
Ready? Ready. And as Novi began to sing, she tried to ignore the ache in her chest, the growing certainty that she was falling for a man who might never be able to fall back.
The next day, Novi arrived. Monarch Records. Monarch Records occupied the top three floors of a gleaming glass tower in downtown Chicago.
The lobby alone was bigger than Vernon’s entire house. All white marble and modern art and people in expensive clothes moving with purpose.
Novi felt wildly out of place. She’d borrowed a dress from the mansion’s collection of emergency guest attire.
A simple navy blue sheath that Winston had assured her was appropriate for a business meeting.
Her hair was pulled back in a sleek bun. Her makeup was minimal but polished.
She looked professional. She felt like she was going to throw up. Miss Palmer. A young woman with a tablet and a brilliant smile approached her.
I’m Jade, Mr. Web’s assistant. He’s ready for you. Follow me. Novi followed Jade through a maze of corridors and past glasswalled recording studios and offices filled with gold records.
Music thumped from behind closed doors, snippets of songs that might become the next big hits.
This is where dreams come true, Novi thought. Or where they die. Jade stopped in front of a door labeled studio A and knocked twice.
Come in. The door opened onto a massive recording studio. Professional equipment everywhere, a grand piano in the corner, and floor toseeiling windows overlooking the Chicago skyline.
And standing in the center of it all was Darius Webb. Novi’s first thought was that he looked nothing like she’d expected.
He was young, maybe mid-30s, with warm brown skin and closecropped hair faded perfectly at the sides.
His beard was neat and precise, framing a face that was handsome in an approachable way.
He wore dark jeans and a casual blazer over a Monarch Records t-shirt, and his smile was easy and genuine.
His eyes were kind. That was what struck her most. In an industry full of sharks, his eyes were kind.
Novi Palmer. He crossed the room and extended his hand. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.
His handshake was warm and firm. His voice was rich and smooth, the kind of voice that probably made artists feel instantly at ease.
Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Web. Darius, please. He gestured to a comfortable looking couch.
Sit. Sit. Can I get you anything? Water, coffee, something stronger. Water would be great.
Jade appeared with a bottle of sparkling water before Novi even finished the sentence, then disappeared discreetly.
Darius sat across from her, leaning back casually. “So, a Zach Brown called me personally to rave about your voice.
Do you know how rare that is?” Novi blinked. He raved. His exact words were transcendent and unlike anything I’ve ever heard.
Darius grinned. And Zach isn’t exactly known for his enthusiasm. I’ve known him for years.
We went to college together, and I’ve never heard him talk about anyone like that, especially not a woman.
Heat flooded Novie’s cheeks. He’s been very kind to me. Kind? Darius laughed. Zack Brown kind.
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