Chapter 3

DIANA

I hadn’t written anything in half a year, and I needed work now. My manager, as intuitive as he was, didn’t realize that I hadn’t taken on any recent work because the well of inspiration I’d once drawn from had gone bone dry.

Damien said we were lucky that Raymond reached out when Levi needed a lyricist of my caliber. I was reluctant to tell him I didn’t have the music in me. The quality lyricist they imagined no longer existed.

A dinner of dry cereal from my desolate pantry was another reminder I needed the job. I had ample savings but dreaded dipping into them for any reason. It was better to take this job and collaborate with a lunatic than burn through them.

Gearing up for my first day returning to a studio, I spent the weekend studying his music. Levi Stark was world-renowned for his stimulating rock music. The beats were heavy, hinting at classic rock.

His lyrics weren’t overly thought-provoking, but they did elicit goosebumps on my arms here and there. I saw the appeal. An attractive man with skilled vocals usually does the trick.

His band’s unique quirk of painting their faces to mimic skeletons and ghouls or wearing demonic masks gave them slight leverage. It helped them stand out compared to others in their musical genre.

But Levi didn’t just sing. He put on a show. Every performance had a moment that stood out. Like the fight I’d witnessed. Had he staged that?

For the past ten years, I wrote most of my music from the comfort of my home studio.

However, Monday morning, I left that comfort to face the dreaded L.A. traffic.

The jam-packed roads weren’t the only thing causing an acidic ache deep in my guts. My fingers clutched the steering wheel like my life depended on it as Levi’s music played on repeat in my head.

Rock stars like Levi were a type of artist I preferred not to work with. Rumors about musicians spread like wildfire, and most of them were true. The one I’d signed a contract with had a history I didn’t want to get tangled up in.

Fights, women, and booze.

Los Angeles housed many of the top recording studios. Most of them had hosted popular bands and artists from around the world. I had visited plenty of them in the past.

But when I parked outside of the address Raymond sent me, the building wasn’t one I recognized.

I double-checked, then triple-checked the address before getting out of my car. A golden sunrise blinded me as I approached the unassuming white brick building.

At least the speaker box on the door appeared professional. It buzzed when I pressed the button. A half-second later, the door noisily unlocked.

I groaned internally before pulling open the door. A million complaints ran rampant in my head until I stepped through the threshold.

“Holy cow,” slipped past my lips.

I walked into a rectangular space that mirrored a lobby, almost. Tall charcoal gray walls reflected the glow of the purple neon lighting around the ceiling.

Blown-up versions of famous rock posters lined the left wall leading up to a narrow black-iron stairway. Aimlessly, my feet carried me over the hardwood flooring.

There were large versions of posters here I’d never seen before. My eyes widened at each one.

A sense of awe blanketed the gnawing anxiety at the center of my chest until it quieted into nothing. On the last poster, my legs turned to stone.

Unconsciously, my hand rose, tracing over the lines of a once familiar face. Jade eyes, like mine, stared out from the poster into the void.

The next beat of my heart fractured through my chest, leaving a fathomless depth in its wake.

“Do you like my collection?” a suave, rasping voice called from above.

I jerked back my hand with a gasp and caught Levi halfway down the stairs. Dark strands of damp hair hung over his forehead.

Recently showered and free of his ghoulish performance makeup, he appeared almost normal. His outline in a pair of black ripped jeans stole my gaze.

They clung to his thick, toned legs like a second skin in a way that kick-started my heart again. At the bottom of the stairs, he joined me in front of the poster.

He took one look at my expression and the curve of his lips dropped. Dark eyes drifted from me to the lead singer taking center stage of the larger-than-life poster towering over us.

“Ah,” he sighed. “I’m sorry about that.”

Ignoring the pity, I cleared my throat. “I’ve never seen this one before.”

An intoxicating cologne wafted around me, dulling my senses. I forced my head back to the poster, away from the delicious scent of the man at my side.

My knees pressed together as I shifted.

“Really?” Levi’s brows arched. He pressed closer, leaning over my shoulder to examine the image with me.

Four band members at the center formed the points of a diamond. Red flames and yellow lightning bolts on a black background gave a sense of hellish excitement.

“No, I thought I had all of his posters.”

“This was a special edition poster that came out during his last tour. I got a signed version.”

Admiration glittered in Levi’s eyes. It gripped my throat and strangled me. Turning his attention to me, the amazement remained.

“I guess that explains your pseudonym.”

I lifted a shoulder in an offhand shrug. “Most people don’t figure it out.”

It impressed me that he had, but I wouldn’t say that.

His scoffing laughter awoke a hint of a tingle through my insides. Something about the sound thrilled my body more than I’d admit.

“Those people are dumb as shit, then.” He hooked a thumb at the poster.

“How could anyone not realize they’re working with the daughter of Devan Johnson? You were on track to become more popular than him back in the day. And he was one of the best.”

Realization dawned on me. Levi recognized me because my father was one of his idols. As a heavy metal singer himself, it made sense.

Anyone with that eye for detail would have put the clues together. Then I cocked my head, thinking about how he worded that statement.

“Did you follow my career too?”

He rubbed a hand over his mouth as if trying to hide his smile. His eyes flicked over the walls in a bashful manner. Then he shrugged.

“I mean, ten years ago, what teenage boy wasn’t? Fuck, I had your poster on my bedroom wall.”

Levi chuckled. The sound was deep and frustratingly sensual. The mental vision of Levi laying on his back flared behind my eyes.

In my imagination, he was staring at my poster on the wall and reaching down. His fingers drifted under his pants as he grabbed himself—

A flush of pink spread over my face. An odd surge of heat rushed through my belly. I shook my head, wishing I had a dozen ice cubes to dump down my shirt and cool myself down.

“You’re blushing,” he blurted.

“No, I’m not.”

Turning away, I made a point of searching for an exit. Embarrassment weighed on my shoulders like a boot threatening to squish me into the ground.

Levi closed in, dipping his head near the side of my face. His hot breath tickled the curve of my ear.

“I can guarantee whatever you’re imagining isn’t too far from the truth.”

The sensation of his body flush with my backside provoked a wanton unfurling at the apex of my thighs. An uninvited shiver raced through me.

I needed to clear my head before he could charm me out of my senses. I bit the inside of my cheek. The sharp sting of my teeth returned my sense of mind.

Taking a step away, I pulled back my defenses. In seconds, I’d chased away the haze addling my body and settled a mask over my features.

“Your father was great, but you were a prodigy. It’s too bad you quit singing,” he said.

When I turned around, he’d straightened up and sunk his hands into his pockets. Anger licked at the edge of my mask.

Words cut through my lips before I could bite them back. “Yeah, well, my father is dead. My music died with him.”