Page 3 of Love's Free Will

I tossed my phone onto the couch, rubbing my temples. I hated these conversations. Hated how they made me feel like no matter what I accomplished it would never be enough in my mother’s eyes.

Trap House Studioshad been my second home since I moved to LA.

The name was misleading—this place was anything but a trap house. It was one of the most exclusive recording studios in the city, a sleek, dimly lit sanctuary where some of the biggest names in hip-hop, R&B, and pop had recorded their greatest hits. Plush black leather couches, neon LED lights lining the walls, a fully stocked bar, and soundproof booths with the best acoustics money could buy.

I had history here.

This was where I produced my first Grammy-winning song, where I wrote half the hooks that dominated the charts. It was my creative space, my escape.

So, when I heard that familiar voice break through the low hum of my latest mix, I knew something was up.

"Well, well, if it ain’t the golden girl of music."

I turned, already knowing who it was before I laid eyes on him.

Logan Zarelli, famed producer and music exec. He was the co-founder and CEO of LA Records. I admired him, was a fan of his work. He even mentored me for a bit while I was at Tisch. It was a part of our music program when musicians in the business would come in and help students. Logan taught me a lot and I appreciated him for it.

He leaned against the studio console, grinning like a man who was about to ask for a favor. Dark-haired, Italian, dripped in designer, but real as they come. Logan had been in the industry for over a decade, starting as a DJ and producer for Lux LA—one of the biggest rappers in the game and his longtime business partner.

A lot of white boys in hip-hop tried too hard to fit in. Logan never had to. He wasn’t a culture vulture. He wasn’t out here dropping slurs or trying to be one of us. He was just himself—a sharp, street-smart hustler who married a Black woman, had half-Black kids, and never let his privilege blind him to the struggles of the industry.

That was why he was respected.

"Logan," I greeted, pulling off my headphones. "What brings you to my session?"

He smirked. "You."

I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Why?"

He folded his arms. "I got an artist that needs some… guidance. Someone to elevate his sound."

I already didn’t like where this was going. After the grammy wins, I had been sought out by a lot of execs in the music business. The fact that Logan mentored me didn’t help the fact that regardless of the answer to my next question, I was likely going to have to say yes.

I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the bullshit. "Who?"

"Royal Teegan."

I laughed, shaking my head before he could even finish the name. "Nah. No thanks."

Logan let out a chuckle, unfazed by my immediate shutdown. "Damn, you ain’t even let me pitch it first?"

I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. "Because I don’t need the pitch, Zarelli. I’ve heard the stories. Royal Teegan is arrogant, a pain in the ass, and thinks he knows everything. That don’t mesh well with me."

Logan smirked. "And? Sounds like every other rapper you’ve worked with."

"Yeah, but most of them at least pretend to listen."

"Fair." He rubbed his jaw, clearly expecting my hesitation. "But let’s be real, Averi—when has a challenge ever scared you?"

I narrowed my eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing, and I hated it. In school when he was mentoring me, nothing was off limits; nothing was impossible. I thought myself as Superwoman and I could make anybody sound good.

I wasn’t just a producer or songwriter—I was known for my ability to bring out the best in artists, even the difficult ones. I could take an okay singer and turn them into a vocal beast, an average rapper and make them a lyrical force. And Logan knew Royal needed that.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Why me?"

"Because you’re the only one I trust to bring him to that next level." His voice softened just a little. "Look, I know he’s ahandful. I ain’t gon’ sit here and lie to you—he’s cocky as hell. But he’s got that it factor, Averi. And right now, he’s wasting it. I need someone to get through to him, and if anybody can do that, it’s you."

I hated that he was right.

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