Dangerous Melodies - Chapter 65: Chapter 65

MARISOL
The morning light streamed through my bedroom windows, warm and steady as I sat at my vanity. My makeup artist leaned in, applying the final touches. My hair fell in loose waves, soft against my shoulders, and a hint of gloss gave my lips just enough shine.
I’d gone casual today: a white fitted tee and dark jeans. Comfortable, but still put-together. A little armor for what lay ahead. Just enough to say I’m fine, even if I wasn’t.
“All done,” she said, stepping back with a smile that told me she was proud of her work.
I met my own gaze in the mirror and nodded. “Thank you. It’s perfect.” I stood and ran my hands down my shirt, grounding myself.
It should’ve felt like just another session. My space. My rules. But something in my chest buzzed—an old nervousness I hadn’t felt in years. That restless edge right before a live performance.
Deep breath.
It’s just my studio. My house. My schedule.
But the flutter in my stomach didn’t care about any of that.
Carlos T. was coming. This was big, and I knew it.
I left the bedroom, the familiar quiet of the house thinning with every step. The closer I got to the studio, the louder it grew. Voices, movement, and energy pulsed from behind closed doors.
The moment I stepped inside, the hum of preparation surrounded me. My studio’s high ceilings stretched above me, the space crafted for perfect sound. Engineers hovered over the mixing console, fine-tuning levels. Monitors blinked, lighting up waveforms. Someone adjusted a small camera, no doubt setting up promo footage for behind-the-scenes content.
Beyond the glass wall, the recording booth waited. Two stools. Two microphones. A music stand with the lyrics I’d committed to memory by dawn. I always loved this part. The calm before the music.
Lucas stood near the console, phone in hand, multitasking as only he could. When he noticed me, he gave a nod and crossed the room.
“Nina and Luzie are in the living room,” he said. “She’s got Luzie covered, so you can focus.”
I smiled, grateful. “Good. How’s everything looking in here?”
He glanced around. “On schedule. Carlos should be here soon. We’re making sure everything’s perfect.”
I nodded and scanned the room, letting the rhythm of movement steady me. Everyone knew what they were doing. The air buzzed with that charged stillness, right before something starts. I stepped into the booth and let the energy settle over me. The quiet in there felt different. Clean. Focused. It always centered me.
I brushed my fingers over the music stand. No nerves. Not really. Just anticipation.
This is what I do. I can handle this.
Turning back toward the control room, I froze. Dante had just walked in. He hadn’t needed to be here, and I’d told him that. But of course, he came anyway. Curiosity, maybe. Or habit.
His presence shifted the air. He moved through the space with that coiled stillness I’d come to recognize, calm on the surface and taut underneath. His gaze swept the room, sharp and unrelenting, like he was bracing for something no one else could see.
Not angry. Not jealous. Just alert. Too alert. When his eyes met mine, there was no tension pointed at me. Just a quiet readiness. His hands slid into his pockets like he was holding something back.
Carlos hadn’t even arrived, but Dante already looked like he was standing guard. Watching. Waiting. Protecting.
The way he stood, jaw set and posture tight, sent a ripple through me. Maybe he just took security this seriously. That’s what made him the best at what he did. Still, something about it left me unsettled.
Then he gave me a small smile. Just a flicker. But it was enough to settle something in my chest. Whatever was coming, we were ready.
The door opened, and the air shifted. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was. The buzz said it all. Carlos T. had arrived.
He strolled in like he owned the room, shoulders relaxed, smile easy, charisma trailing behind him like perfume. The kind of energy that drew people in before he even said a word.
I stepped out of the booth as he approached. Seeing him in person hit me differently. Sharper angles. Warmer eyes. More presence than a camera could ever capture. Medium build. Black fitted shirt. Jeans that looked effortless but intentional. He was... striking. No question.
Lucas reached him first, all enthusiasm. “Carlos, so glad you could make it!”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Carlos said, his voice smooth and rich, touched with that signature Puerto Rican charm. Then his eyes met mine. Direct. Warm. Intentional. A smile bloomed slowly across his face, deliberate and appreciative.
Lucas turned with a hint of theater. “Carlos, I’d like you to meet Marisol.”
A flicker of nerves fluttered in my stomach as I walked forward. I extended my hand, ready for the usual quick shake. Instead, he took it gently, lifted it to his lips, and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. My pulse jumped. I forced the reaction down. This is about the music. Nothing more.
“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Marisol,” he said, voice a low, velvety hum that sent a chill skimming down my spine.
I smiled, keeping it steady. “The pleasure is mine.” Stay focused. I’d worked too hard to get here. I wasn’t going to lose focus now. “I’ve been a fan of your music for a long time.”
His smile deepened, eyes crinkling. “I’m a fan of yours too. You’re a powerhouse.”
Heat crawled up my neck, but I kept my tone even. “Thank you. I’m really looking forward to this duet.” Still, something fluttered in my chest, that stubborn rush I couldn’t quite tamp down. I forced myself to breathe. Get it together. I had a job to do.
He didn’t release my hand right away. His thumb brushed lightly across my fingers before he finally let go. From the corner of my eye, I caught the movement: Dante, jaw clenched, his hands buried deeper in his pockets.
Carlos smiled at me, a little too long. “We’re going to make something special together,” he said, and while his tone stayed professional, there was something in it that skimmed the edge of suggestion.
I wasn’t used to being seen like that. Admired, yes. Applauded, sure. But this was different. This was personal. Intimate.
Carlos didn’t just look at me. He paid attention. Like he was trying to learn me in real time. It made me feel both flattered and completely off balance. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to lean into it or run the other way.
And then there was the song. How the lyrics seemed to land just a little deeper now that we had sung them together. They weren’t just words anymore. They were charged. Weighted. They clung to my skin long after the last note had faded.
I hadn’t felt like this in years. Open, curious, slightly undone. The part of me that had gone quiet after Luzie was born, after everything fell apart, had stirred awake without warning. And that scared me a little.
Because I didn’t know if I was ready to feel this way again.
I felt the flicker again. A mix of anticipation and something else I didn’t want to name. My chest warmed, and I struggled to ground myself.
“I’m sure we will,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. Almost breathless.
Carlos didn’t flinch. He held my gaze a second longer, then finally stepped back, letting my hand go completely. “Well then, let’s get started.”
I exhaled, trying to steady the warmth still rising in my chest. My fingers tingled where he’d touched them. It was only when the moment settled when the buzz in my skin began to fade, that I felt it. The shift.
Not in the music. In the air.
I turned, and there he was.
Dante.
He hadn’t made a sound, but I knew the moment his eyes found mine. His jaw was tight, his shoulders drawn. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets like they were holding something back. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The tension in him spoke loud enough.
I stood there for a breath, caught between Carlos’s warmth and Dante’s silence. Then the producer’s voice crackled through the intercom.
“Are we ready?”
Carlos turned slightly, but his gaze slid back to me.
“Ready if you are,” he said, his voice easy. Warm. Like nothing had shifted at all.
I nodded, forcing myself to refocus. I turned back toward the booth, needing to move. To ground myself.
The second I stepped inside, my breath evened out. The lyrics. The rhythm. The quiet that lived inside the music. This was what steadied me. This was where I still belonged.
This was about the work. And I was here to deliver.