And something in me locks in.
Solid.
Certain.
Mine.
I close my fingers around hers, steadying her as she steps out of the limo.
She’s warm. Soft. Real.
And for a brief second, neither of us lets go.
Then Bella’s voice echoes from the door.
“Are you guys coming or what?!”
Hilary pulls her hand back.
Too fast.
Like she felt it too.
I let her go.
For now.
Because I have to.
Because I don’t get to keep her.
Not yet.
But as we walk toward the studio—close, but not touching—I know one thing for sure.
That beat inside me?
The one she woke up?
It’s not going anywhere.
And neither is she.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
Chapter Sixteen
Hilary
If someone had told me a week ago I’d be sitting in a high-end Manhattan recording studio waiting room while DJ Mars recorded a song with Bella, I would’ve laughed.
Or checked myself for a concussion.
The lounge is… ridiculous.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city like it belongs to whoever signs the checks here. There’s a leather sofa so soft I’m afraid to sit on it wrong. A massive conference table with eight chairs that probably cost more than my monthly rent. A snack and coffee bar that looks like it could sustain a small army of divas and executives.
It’s big.