Dangerous Melodies - Chapter 62: Chapter 62

DANTE
The music stopped on a dime, the final note suspended for a breath before the director’s voice cut clean through. “That’s a wrap for today!”
The crew exhaled as one. Movements slowed, tension bleeding from shoulders and steps as the sharp edge of the set dissolved.
People swarmed Marisol instantly. One handed her water. Another dabbed her brow. Fingers smoothed loose strands of hair into place. She accepted it all with graceful ease, but her eyes were already scanning the space.
She spotted Lucas and walked toward him, steps fluid and unhurried. My pulse surged, every click of her heels punching straight through my chest. She looked different. Glossier. Refined. But it was still her. That truth hit hard. I couldn’t look away. My eyes scanned her face, starving for a flicker of recognition. Nothing. Polite. Professional. Empty.
Lucas lit up like he’d just signed a record deal. “Dante, this is Marisol. The one and only, international superstar.”
She rolled her eyes, a small smile curling at her mouth. That laugh. Light. Melodic. Like a key sliding into a lock, I’d tried to seal shut.
“I apologize for my dramatic manager,” she said, turning to me. “You must be the security people. Lucas says you’re the best at what you do.”
My heart cinched around the sound of her voice. It’s her. I locked eyes with her, searching. Begging. For something familiar. Her gaze held only charm, practiced and easy. No trace of memory.
I shook her hand. Firm. Distracted. Her touch sent a jolt up my spine. Is she pretending? Is this all some elaborate setup?
“Yeah,” I said finally, flat. “That’s what they say.”
She smiled again. Polite. Distant. And something flickered. Not recognition. Discomfort.
Her gaze darted over me, unsettled. Not the look of a fan or a stranger. She wasn’t admiring. She was bracing. I wasn’t just watching her. I was dissecting her, peeling back layers only I remembered. Searching for truths she kept buried.
Then her eyes slid to Felix. Her brow twitched, subtle but visible. We must’ve looked like ghosts.
She blinked. Reset. But I caught it. That ripple of tension. She felt it. Even if she didn’t understand why.
Our eyes met again, just for a beat. And something shifted. A flicker of... curiosity. Not enough.
She was still stunning. That never faded. But there was weight in her now. A blade in her posture. She didn’t know she carried it, but it cut all the same.
I studied her, waiting for the mask to slip. But it didn’t. If she was acting, it was award-worthy. Every glance, every word, calculated. Nothing out of place.
How can she not know me? The thought punched hard. She looked at me like I was just another man in a suit.
An assistant appeared, clipboard in hand. Her presence was efficient. Ghostlike.
“Anything else on the schedule for today?” Marisol asked without turning.
“Nope. You’re officially on vacation.”
“Perfect,” she said, cool and detached. She turned to Lucas. “I’m going to get changed and head home. I’ll leave you all to it.”
Then she turned to us. “It was nice to meet you both.”
Her voice was calm. Too calm. She walked away with deliberate grace, each step a closing door. And I stood there. Ripped open.
How can she just walk away like that?
I watched her disappear behind the dressing room doors. The woman who left wasn’t the Marisol I’d known. That truth sank deep, heavier than I expected.
Would she really go this far to get back at me?
Her absence pressed against me like a weight I couldn’t shake. The silence she left behind roared louder than the music ever had. Guilt gnawed. Disbelief. Something colder than fear.
What if what we had was already gone? Buried under years... and reinvention?
MARISOL
My heartbeat thundered as I stepped into the dressing room, lungs still chasing calm after that encounter with Dante Kincade. His gaze had stayed on me like a hand I hadn’t invited. Dark. Consuming. It left fingerprints beneath my skin.
The room gleamed with controlled excess. One wall offered rows of wardrobe options. The other displayed a full arsenal of glam—makeup, tools, light that knew how to lie. Everything about the space screamed perfection. But I felt anything but.
I shook my head, trying to erase the image of his tall, broad frame. That face. That stare. I couldn’t tell if they’d knocked the air out of me or sharpened my nerves. Maybe both. There was something in his presence I recognized but couldn’t name.
Why does he rattle me? That question clung, refusing to let go.
I changed into something comfortable. Fitted jeans. A loose blouse. My leather jacket. Heels that whispered against the floor. Crossing to the couch, I sank into it and dropped my arm across my eyes.
A sigh escaped. “I need a drink,” I muttered.
“Rough day?”
I shot upright, heart crashing into my throat. One hand flew to my chest.
There he was. Dante Kincade. Leaning in the doorway like he belonged to the silence. A shadow with too much weight. Too much knowing.
My pulse jumped like it had somewhere else to be. He raised his hands, expression soft with apology. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I breathed in slowly, steadying what little calm I had. “No. It’s just been... a week.” My voice wavered, but I locked it down. The memory of the break-in slithered through me, cold and unwelcome.
He stepped inside. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
I nodded but didn’t move. His eyes held me there. Something in them reached for me.
I forced a smile. Small. Careful. Like a truce. “Well, you definitely made the day more interesting.”
His mouth curved, slow, and deliberate. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Lucas and Felix stepped in. Lucas caught my eye. “Car’s here. You ready?”
I sighed. “Not really. I just want to go home. How bad is it out there?”
Lucas grimaced. “Paparazzi. Fans. Loud. Camera flashes already starting.”
“How bad? Are we talking selfie requests or stampede?”
He hesitated. “I’ll have someone check.”
I waved it off. “It’s fine. I’ll go with the flow.”
Lucas exhaled, sharp with irritation. “This is exactly the problem. No plan. And when there is one, you change it. Your security can’t keep up.”
My temper flared. “Then maybe I need security that adapts. The last ones couldn’t stop a man from walking into my bedroom. My bedroom, Lucas. Why haven’t they been replaced?”
His expression softened a fraction. “I’m working on it. Meeting a company later.”
Before I could respond, Dante stepped forward. Calm. Grounded. “We’ll do it.”
Lucas blinked. “You’re changing your mind?”
Dante nodded once. “Yes.”
Felix cleared his throat. I turned to Dante, arms crossed. “Tell me, Mr. Kincade. Can I trust you with my life?”
His eyes didn’t flinch. “Please. Call me Dante. And that’s Felix.”
Why do I feel like I can trust him? The thought tugged equal parts comfort and confusion.
“Tell me, Dante. Can I?”
His answer was quiet. But it landed hard. “I don’t take chances with safety.”
There was something in the way he said it. Something private. Unspoken. Heavy with history.
I studied him. He meant it. Not just as a job. As a vow.
What is it about him that feels like memory, not fantasy?
I swallowed. “Let’s not have a repeat of The Bodyguard,” I said, and offered a teasing smile with the wink.
Turning to Lucas, I added, “Get the NDAs ready. They’re staying with me. I want them in-house.”
Lucas sighed. “Understood.”
I moved toward the door. Dante and Felix followed, a slow current of tension trailing behind us. Something had shifted. I could feel it in the air.
Dante Kincade wasn’t just security.
He was a mystery.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted to solve him.