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I smile as I recall those early days. "I used to perform at school talent shows and open mic nights. That's where Brandon found me, when I was 13. He saw something in me, I guess, and convinced my mom to let him represent me."
My smile fades as I remember the price of that success. "Things moved pretty quickly after that. Record deal, tours, the whole pop star package. But it came with a lot of strings attached."
I glance up at Damien, his olive eyes watching me carefully. "Brandon was always in control, dictating every aspect of my image and sound. I went along with it because I was just a kid, you know? I didn't know any better."
Damien nods, his jaw tightening slightly. I can sense his disapproval, and it emboldens me to continue. "It wasn't until I met Logan that I started to question things. He was this wild, free spirit, and being with him made me realize how trapped I felt."
I shake my head ruefully. "Of course, that relationship was a disaster in its own way. Logan was more interested in the fame and attention than me. But at least it opened my eyes to the fact that I wasn't living my truth."
I meet Damien's gaze, feeling a strange sense of connection. "That's when I started writing my real songs, the ones that come from my heart. They're still hidden away in that notebook, but someday..." I trail off, not sure how to finish that thought.
Damien surprises me by reaching out and covering my hand with his own. His touch is warm, calloused, and sends a jolt of electricity through me.
"Someday, you'll share them with the world," he says, his voice low and reassuring. "And the world will be better for it."
I swallow hard, overcome by the intensity of his words and the tenderness in his eyes. In that moment, I want nothing more than to lean across the counter and kiss him.
But then the timer on the stove goes off, breaking the spell. Damien clears his throat and withdraws his hand, turning his attention back to cooking.
Damien changes the subject, his tone lighter. "Can you cook?"
"Do instant noodles count?" I joke.
Damien barely contains a smile. "I'll pass on that."
"Hmm." I rack my brain for something more impressive. "I can make macaroni and cheese."
"From a box," he guesses.
I nod, a little embarrassed. "Hey, it doesn't burn. That's something, right?"
Damien clicks his tongue, unimpressed. "Come over here and try this."
I step forward, drawn to everything about him. He holds a wooden spoon up to my lips, and I close my eyes, inhaling the mouthwatering aroma. He blows on the spoon, and I can't help but lean in.
The moment our lips almost touch, he pulls back, and I taste the sauce instead. "Mmm," I moan, my eyes still closed. "This is amazing."
When I open my eyes, I realize I'm trapped between the counter and his body. His finger traces my jawline, sending shivers down my spine. I can't move, can't breathe.
All I can think about is how close we are, how much I want to feel his lips on mine.
He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "A woman who can play five instruments can't manage to prepare a decent meal?"
I can't help but be impressed. "Someone did their homework."
"Answer me," he says, his voice low and husky, his face inches from mine.
I swallow, struggling to gather my thoughts into coherent words as his unwavering gaze bores into me, making it feel impossible to do so.
"My mother," I say, my cheeks flushing, "decided it was wiser to nurture my musical talents instead of my culinary skills. I was their meal ticket."
There's a sad story behind my words, of course, and I know he can read between the lines. I don't delve into it, and Damien doesn't press.
Instead, he moves a little closer to me.
"We'll have to work on that, or else you'll starve to death."
"Not if I have you."
