Page 29 of Siren

No rehearsals. No cues. We moved like we belonged in each other’s gravity. Every now and then, he leaned in, murmured something low.

And I laughed. Sometimes soft. Sometimes real. I didn’t mean to but it happened.

He was still in that slate gray suit, still open at the collar like temptation. Still the voice that lived in my chest from the studio—rough, rich, magnetic.

I couldn’t stop remembering how he’d sounded in my ear.Or how good he was at the silences—those moments between takes when nothing was said, but everything was loud.

“Someone should be filming this,” I muttered under my breath.

“They are,” he said.

I couldn’t tell if we were playing a role… or if we’d already written something real. And the part of me thatwantedit to be real? She was getting louder.

He led me to the edge of the terrace where the crowd thinned, the city stretched wide like a promise behind him—lit windows flickering like secrets.

We sat. Champagne came by twice. We both declined.

I glanced at him. The soft gold lights kissed the slope of his cheekbone, tracing that sharp, quiet beauty he carried without effort.

“You ever been to something like this before?” I asked, eyes on the skyline.

He shrugged, leaned back a little. “They tried. A year ago, while I was still in development. Another singer. Smaller fanbase, but her looks had the world hypnotized. They thought we’d sell well together.”

I didn’t respond right away. My body stayed still, but a sting bloomed somewhere behind my ribs.

Jealousy wasn’t something I wore often. But just then, it cinched tight around my lungs.

“What happened?” I asked, forcing my voice light.

He didn’t even blink. “Didn’t go for it. Wasn’t gonna start this chapter lying to myself.”

My pulse kicked.

That was the thing about Taraj. He didn’t sell fantasy. He offered truth. Raw. Uncut. Sometimes rough.

I let the silence stretch, my thoughts chasing each other in a blur of curiosity and something much hungrier.

“So why me?” I asked softly. “Why say yes to all of this with me?”

He turned toward me, slow and deliberate. The warmth of his gaze swept over my face like fingers.

“Because your voice is honest,” he said. “And so are your beautiful eyes.”

Something trembled inside me. That was more than a compliment. That was a recognition.

The wind stirred. My skin prickled. But I wasn’t cold. I needed to address the truth since he so freely gave it.

“I know you feel it,” I said. “This.”

His eyes didn’t leave mine. “I do. It’s impossible not to.”

I drew in a breath, the world narrowing to the space between us.

“So what do we do about it?”

He leaned in just slightly, his voice a slow flame.

“Be as honest as the music. Follow the notes. Sing the song. Let the verses breathe and pulse around the thickness… and cry out when the moment catches fire.”

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