Page 67 of Ignacio

Without saying a word, she returned to the bedroom and climbed into bed. Maybe she would stay there all day. Ignacio climbed in behind her.

Anxiety remained in the pit of her stomach like a stone, but having his comforting presence in the bed made her feel better, though she didn’t want him to touch her at the moment. She huddled under the covers, wrapping her arms around herself until she fell asleep.

Delta woke to darkness. The blackout curtains were drawn tight, blocking out the sun.

For a moment, she lay still, her body heavy with exhaustion. She reached blindly for her phone on the nightstand, her fingers closing around it with sluggish effort. The screen’s glow stung her eyes, and she squinted.

Eight thirty-eight in the morning. Wednesday. She had a flight in a few hours.

She pressed a hand to her forehead. The past few days were a blur of long hours—waiting, dreading, bracing for Leo’s next move. Sleep had been difficult as worst-case scenarios played on a loop in her head. What would he do next to punish her for Ignacio’s actions?

She rolled out of bed with effort and shuffled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, which did little to energize her. She stared at her reflection. Her makeup artist would have to work a miracle. All she saw was a hollow-eyed woman with dull skin, the strain from Leo’s threats etched into her features.

After she finished her morning routine, she opened the curtains and allowed light to flood the bedroom. Behind her, she heard the door crack open.

Ignacio entered. “Hey, you’re awake,” he said in a soft voice.

He carried a tray in his hands and placed it on the table beside the bed. The tray contained a small plate of cut-up fruit and a glass of water. A simple, light breakfast because she hadn’t been able to eat much since she received the messages.

“How are you feeling?” His voice was grave and weighted with concern.

“Horrible,” Delta admitted. After a pause, she continued. “I’ve been thinking about what I said in the bathroom the other day, and I don’t blame you for what Leo did.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re being too nice.”

Ignacio rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not going to apologize for hitting him. Frankly, I wish I could have done more, but I understand your feelings. Now you have to deal with the fallout. But you shouldn’t have to worry about Leo. You should be focusing on your trip—the interviews and your promo events.”

Delta sighed and sank onto the edge of the bed. He was right, but she no longer looked forward to the nine-day trip to New York. With the album finished and the release date set, pre-release promotion had begun. Videos of her in the studio had been distributed to the media to generate excitement, and her schedule was packed with interviews and photo shoots in the coming weeks. She dreaded facing the media and having to force smiles and answer questions. She felt as if what lay ahead would suffocate her.

This should be the exciting part. The music was finished, the release date locked in, and the momentum building. Normally, she would be eager to share the stories behind the songs, joke and laugh during interviews, and bask in the energy of it all. Promote herself and the music. Instead, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide under the covers indefinitely.

Leo could strike again at any moment. Even if he didn’t release the video as he threatened, there were other ways he could hurt her. He could sabotage her release, have marketing cut the promotion budget, or pull strings to ensure the press coverage turned against her. There were countless ways he could make her life miserable.

And all she could do was wait.

“Maybe I should talk to him,” Delta murmured, searching Ignacio’s face for any sign that he thought it was a good idea. Maybe she could reason with Leo and find a way to make this all go away.

“No.” His response was immediate and decisive. He clasped her hands between his, his grip warm and steady. “I don’t want you wasting another second thinking about him. Go to New York and focus on what matters—your album, your interviews. Walk into every room like you own it, promote the hell out of your music, and then meet with A&R and blow them away with the recordings of your new songs. Impress the hell out of them so they have to say yes to including them on the album.”

She smiled weakly. His words were meant to reassure her, but worry continued to gnaw at her.

Ignacio’s gaze held hers, steady and unwavering. “I’m going to fix this mess I made,” he said, his voice resolute.

“How?” Delta asked.

“Let me worry about that.”

“You make it sound simple, but we both know it’s not.”

Ignacio squeezed her hands gently. “You have to trust me, okay?”

Trust was difficult when the ground beneath her felt like it could collapse at any moment, but Ignacio hadn’t steered her wrong yet.

“Okay.”

She let go of his hands and reached for the tray he’d brought in earlier. The fruit was fresh, cut into neat pieces, and though she didn’t have much of an appetite, she forced herself to eat some. Ignacio watched her with quiet intensity as she did.

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