Page 25 of Royal Bargain
I pitch up and wince. Now I’ve gone too sharp.
The room is mostly quiet. A few polite claps. One girl checks her phone. A guy at the bar yawns. My confidence nosedives.
Fuck. Was this a huge mistake? Maybe I’m not meant for this. I’m not Ingrid’s star client. I’m not my father’s pretty little puppet. I’m just a girl with a notebook full of songs, a fussy, needy baby, and too many reasons to run and hide.
My voice falters on the next verse. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Liam. He’s leaning against the wall in the wings, arms folded. And he’s watching me. He looks mesmerized, his blue eyes shining in excitement. When our eyes meet, he lifts his hand and gives me a thumbs-up.
Then he mouths,“You’ve got this.”
Something unfurls inside me and I take a deep breath.
And this time, when I sing, I stop thinking about the crowd. I stop thinking about the perfect notes or the rhythm or what Ingrid will say. I think about the long nights rocking Lily to sleep. About missing my mother. About growing up in a cage gilded with money and secrets. About loving a man I shouldn’t have, and the baby we made anyway.
I let the emotion flood through me, raw and unfiltered.
By the time I finish the second song, the room is dead silent.
And then, as the final chorus fades out, someone in the back stands and claps. When the applause erupts around me, it doesn’t feel real.
I did it.
I actually did it!
My setlist continues for a few more songs, and now the audience is cheering and clapping every time I finish a new one. They’re eating it up, and as my confidence grows, so does my showmanship. I strut the stage, twirl the mic around, and dance—badly, but with enthusiasm. I know I look ridiculous, but for the first time in a long time, I don’t care.
I’m not just surviving. I’m living.
When the final note rings out, I hold the mic close and whisper a breathless, “Thank you,” into the crowd. The applause is thunderous, and I feel it all the way to my bones.
Then I’m bolting offstage, heart hammering, breath shallow, half-laughing with disbelief. My feet barely hit the floor as I round the corner into the wings.
Liam catches me in his arms without hesitation, wrapping me in a hug so tight it knocks the breath from my lungs. I bury my face in his shoulder for one second, letting the moment swallow me whole.
When I pull back, I’m suddenly aware of how fast my heart is racing and how much I don’t want to let go. He’s looking at me like I just blew him away.
I try to play it off, tucking my hair behind my ear. “That was pretty good, huh?”
“Pretty good?” His voice is low and warm. “You just brought the house down, Ana.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I duck my head, pretending to fiddle with the mic still in my hand. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“You knocked ‘em dead, kid.” I glance up just in time to see his lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile too hard. But before I can say anything in reply, his phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, frowning at the screen.
“Shit,” he mutters. “I have to take this.”
“Of course.” I nod, waving him off. “Go ahead.”
But as he steps away, I can still feel the imprint of his arms around me. Still feel that maddening flutter in my chest—like I could fly, or crash, or maybe both at once.
I try to steady myself, to breathe, to focus on anything else.
Suddenly, without warning, Ingrid appears beside me, clapping her hands like an overenthusiastic stage mom.
“That was electric,” she says, a genuine smile on her face for the first time since I’d met her.
I blink, still riding the adrenaline wave. “It was?”
“Are you joking? You owned that stage.” She loops her arm through mine, leaning in close. “The way you turned that room around? I haven’t seen an audience eat out of someone’s hand like that in years.”
