Page 13 of Forbidden Intent

7

Miles walks out the door, and my heart beats heavy in my chest, practically begging for me to call his name and get him to look at me one more time.I can still feel the heat in his gaze.The desire.

It’s not the first time a man has looked at me like that.

But it’s the first time I’ve wanted him to.

Except…

Would he really want me if he knew how broken I am?Miles can have any woman he wants.Why would he want someone with as much baggage as me?Not to mention the rumors about his sexual proclivities.There’s been plenty of speculation over the last year or two about whether or not he’s active in the BDSM community.I don’t know what’s true, but even if he only likes the more mild stuff like bondage, there’s no way I could give him what he needs.

My whole body trembles uncontrollably at the thought.

My dad turns to me.“You okay, Tam Tam?”

“Dad.How many times do I have to ask you not to call me Tam Tam when we’re in the studio?”

He sits back in his chair, his arms spread out wide.“Come on, there’s nobody else here.”

I stare at him, not willing to back down but also secretly grateful he pulled me from my already confused thoughts.I had decided coming into the studio today that I wasn’t going to entertain any flirting with Miles—there’s no point since I can never give him what I wish I could.But that idea was blown out of the water the minute he looked at me with all that hunger in his gaze.

It wasn’t possessive or smarmy like how some men get.It was curious and intrigued.It made me feel warm and flushed and questioning everything I’d already decided.

Could I try?

What would be the harm?

Those questions only got more confusing the more I watched him play—and the longer he avoided eye contact.He wouldn’t look in the booth at all.He stared down at his drum kit at almost every pause, or looked at whichever one of his bandmates was talking.

And the fact that I was desperate for him to look at me again told me all I needed to know—I’m already hooked.

But when he sat next to me, it wasn’t his eyes that bewitched me, but his presence, his body heat, his scent—all of it made me want to get closer to him even though I knew I’d be wasting both our time.

Then he said he liked me, and that was the cruelest joke the universe has played on me in a long time.The one man I want, and he actually likes me.Well, he likes what he sees, and what little he knows.If he knew me,reallyknew me, I can pretty much guarantee that he’d run for the hills.Any sane man would.

“Do you have any questions about the session today?”Dad asks.

I focus back on him and what he just asked.I have plenty of questions, but none that couldn’t be answered another time.There’s one question I’ve never asked him though that I’m very curious about.

“What made you want to become a music producer?”

He readjusts in his chair, his gaze focused on mine—almost as if he’s wondering where that question came from.For a moment, I think he’s not going to answer.I glance down at my notebook to see other questions I jotted down during the session when he speaks.

“Music saved my life.You never met your grandparents, but they weren’t good people.My dad was abusive and cruel on his best days.On his bad days, it was…something else entirely.”He pauses and rubs his hand over his face.“When I was thirteen, he beat my mom and your Uncle Joey so bad that the neighbors heard their screams and called 911.I happened to be at a friend’s house, or I’m sure I would’ve been beaten too.We’d gotten really good at knowing the right thing to say to child services when they came to the house—or whatnotto say.My mom nearly died that day.The cops told her based on her medical history and this event they would likely have enough to press charges and put him away for a while, but she wouldn’t do it.”He shakes his head, like he still can’t believe she turned down their offer.“Not even after she saw how badly he’d hurt Joey.

“I lost all respect for her that day and promised my brother I’d get us out of there.The friend whose house I’d been at when all this went down found out about it and told his dad, who happened to be a sound engineer for one of the record labels here in LA.He offered us his house and I took it.I couldn’t trust my mom to defend us—hell, she couldn’t even defend herself—and since she’d made it clear she wouldn’t leave the bastard, I made the decision for us.We moved in with them and he ended up taking me under his wing and teaching me everything he knew.He connected me with other people in the industry, including a few producers, and I fell in love with the work.I’m not all that musically inclined myself, but I know what sounds good.I know the technical pieces and the artistry that goes into it.”

“What do you love most about being a producer,” I ask softly, trying not to show how affected I am by his story.Dad and I are close—we always have been, but especially after Mom died.And yet, moments like this show me how much I still don’t know about him.Do you everreallyknow your parents?

He cocks his head side to side like he’s weighing his response.“I love taking a band and helping them develop their sound—finding that one unique thing that makes them shine and stand out from all the other musicians out there.I love watching them rise and find success after we’ve worked together.I can’t do what they can, but knowing I got to help them reach their full potential, well, that’s a feeling like nothing else.”

“What do you see in Rapturous Intent?”

He smirks, almost cocky, but I know him well enough to know it’s more confidence and excitement than anything else.“They have passion, focus, and determination—which are critical in this industry—but their sound isn’t fully developed yet.Their songs are real, but Tristan’s holding back.”

“Tristan?”I wasn’t expecting that.He and his brother, Trent, seem the most focused.Well, and Miles when he’s playing.But Trent and Tristan are the most focused on how the final piece comes together.

“Yeah, he writes most of the music.I thought maybe it was a combo of him and Trent, but Trent confessed that this album is mostly Tristan and almost all their big hits were written by Tristan.And yet…” He shakes his head and rubs his chin.

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