Page 53 of Dirty Lyrics
I don’t even care if I sound weak. I’ll beg. I’ll crawl. I’ll throw myself at his feet if it means Maya walks out of here unharmed.
Because she’s everything. Without her, I’m nothing but empty sound.
The man studies me, unflinching.
“I’m not here to hurt her. But I want to know why you keep fucking with my wife when you have your own.”
“My wife?”
The words hit like a slap. And then it clicks. Lucy Volkov.
“Your wife? Oh shit. You’re the man who married Diablita?”
My chest seizes. Of course. El Tigre and La Diablita splashed across tabloids for months.
And the man standing here? He’s no two-bit punk. This guy radiates power. Danger.
I force myself to stand taller even as fear eats me alive. Maya is trembling beside me, and that makes the choice for me. I lay it all out. I beg if I have to.
“Look, sir,” I rasp, “that was all my manager. Every bit of it. I love my wife. Only my wife.”
I wrap Maya in my arms, pulling her tight to me, relieved down to my bones when she leans into me willingly.
“The flowers?” the man asks suddenly, his mismatched gaze sharp.
My head jerks back. “What flowers?”
“You didn’t send Lucy flowers?”
“No. Not me, hermano. My manager handled all that PR shit. I-I like Lucy, qué linda, sí? But my heart?” I press Maya closer, my voice breaking. “There’s only room for my wife and my baby. That’s it.”
He pauses.
Studies me.
And for a second, I think I said the wrong thing.
Finally, he nods.
“Sorry for the confusion.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, my grip on Maya fierce.
“Oh, by the way,” he adds casually, “I bought this building. You like it here?”
My head spins. “The privacy is good,” I manage, my voice tight.
He starts to turn away, then glances back with one last barb.
“One more thing. How come you don’t sing like that on any of your singles?”
The question guts me.
Because he’s right.
“My manager,” I mutter bitterly. “He says once I top the charts, I can have creative control. The new single—the one he sent your wife—that’s the one he thinks will do it. But I mean no disrespect. I swear.”
He holds my gaze, unreadable.
