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Julianna leaned against the grand piano, the scent of jasmine and clove drifting toward him. "And you’re playing like you’re afraid to feel the music, Elias. It’s a lounge, not a conservatory."

Elias was the house pianist, a man who played with a technical precision that masked a hollow heart. He viewed entertainment as a clockwork machine—notes in, applause out. That changed the night Julianna walked in for an audition. She wasn’t a polished star; she was a storm in a sequined dress. TheLifeErotic_Sweet-Feet-1_Sarika-A_high_0069

The velvet curtains of The Obsidian Lounge didn’t just muffle the sound of the city; they held the secrets of everyone who stepped onto its circular stage. Julianna leaned against the grand piano, the scent

As the spotlight hit them, Elias began to play. He didn't stick to the arrangement. He played a slow, haunting intro—an invitation, a safety net. Julianna closed her eyes, anchored by the sound of the man who finally understood her rhythm. He viewed entertainment as a clockwork machine—notes in,

On the night of the gala, the stakes peaked. An hour before the curtain rose, Julianna’s former manager—the man who had nearly ruined her in Paris—appeared in the front row. The color drained from her face. Her voice, usually her weapon, became a fragile thread.

Elias saw her trembling in the wings. For the first time, he didn't care about the precision of the performance. He took her hands, his thumbs tracing her knuckles. "Forget the scouts. Forget him," he whispered. "Just listen to me. I’ll follow wherever you go."