Page 75 of Duty Unbound

“I have to go,” she whispered against my lips.

I released her wrist. “I know.”

She straightened, gathering the dishes again. “Will I see you later?”

“Count on it.”

After she disappeared into the bathroom to dress, I sat at the table, finishing my coffee and thinking about those paintings.About the dreams she wouldn’t voice. About the way she deflected every time I asked what she wanted.

Mel Rivers was a puzzle I was determined to solve. Not because I needed to fix her or change her, but because I wanted to understand her. To know what put that longing in her paintings, that sadness in her eyes when she thought no one was looking.

To figure out how to make her believe that what she wanted mattered just as much as what everyone else needed.

The bathroom door opened, and she emerged fully dressed—back in her professional armor of slacks and blouse, hair pulled into a neat bun. The transformation was striking. The vulnerable woman who’d shared a bed with me had vanished, replaced by Nova’s efficient manager.

“I’ll see you at sound check late this afternoon?” she asked, checking her phone.

“I’ll be there.”

“I have to go. Nova is already asking for me.” She hesitated at the door, looking back at me. “Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

Then she was gone, leaving me alone with her paintings and the lingering scent of her shampoo. I gathered my clothes, dressed quickly, and prepared to return to my own room.

But as I closed her door behind me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something important. Some key to understanding what Mel really wanted, what she was afraid to admit, even to herself.

Whatever it was, I’d figure it out. Because Mel Rivers had become more than just a job, more than just an incredible night.

She’d become someone I didn’t want to live without.

Chapter 24

Mel

I leaned against the wall in the backstage greenroom, checking off items on my tablet as dancers and technicians bustled around me. My body ached in the most delicious ways, reminding me of last night—of Ethan’s hands, his mouth, the way he’d moved inside me not once but four incredible times.

I shifted my weight, heat rising to my cheeks at the memory. I’d never experienced anything like it. And then he’d still been there in the morning. No rushing off, no excuses about early meetings. Just Ethan, ordering breakfast, asking me questions about my paintings…

I winced. Those questions. What was I supposed to say? “Oh, I just paint the same house with the same kids playing outside because my secret dream is to be a stay-at-home mom”? He’d probably laugh. Or worse, he’d look at me with pity, wondering how someone could have such small ambitions in this day and age.

“Mel!” Nova’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Where’s my setlist changes? I can’t find them anywhere!”

I pulled up the document on my tablet and handed it to her. “Here. I made the adjustments you wanted for the dance break in ‘Midnight Dream.’”

“Thank God.” She scanned it quickly, already in her costume for the opening number, the elaborate masquerade mask for the first song already covering half her face. Everyone else was in their masks too—some full masks, some barely covering one eye. “At least something is going right today.”

I bit back a sigh. We were back in Texas for the final two shows before the week-long break, and everyone’s nerves were fraying. I was counting down the days until we’d be home in Dallas. One more night after this, then a blessed week without hotels or travel.

“Has anyone seen Clark?” Dexter rushed over, his face pinched with worry. “He’s not in the dressing room, and we’re about to start the circle!”

Ah, shit. Time to herd kittens.

I texted Jace:

Has Clark checked in with his keycard?

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