Devlin Young is not only my manager but my boyfriend—my very controlling, very powerful boyfriend.
We met two years ago on this very stage. He came to find a new artist, and I thought he was hot. So, when he offered to take me to dinner, I jumped at the chance. We spent the whole night talking about music.
We fell in love.
Well, I did. I’m not exactly sure what Devlin fell into. For a while, it felt like love. What I once thought of as a sweet, possessive nature turned into something so much worse. I’ve become his prisoner. His pawn. Something he can control.
I wish I had realized it sooner. I wish I had seen through the love-induced fog. If I had, he wouldn’t be standing here right now. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t either. I certainly wouldn’t have the recording contract I just signed.
The only downside is having Devlin with me every step of the way. He never lets me leave his side. He never leaves mine. Now, not only am I his girlfriend, but I’m also contractually obligated to him. He owns my career; therefore, he owns me.
“What’d you think?” I ask, hope filling my voice. I don’t know how there’s any hope left. I already know nothing I do will ever be good enough—I’ll never be good enough. At least that’s what he tells me. It’s embedded in my brain despite the music contract I recently signed. It’s how he keeps the upper hand—how he keeps me in line and in his bed.
He stands before me with dark eyes and hardened features.
“You were flat. No energy.” It’s all he says before he looks down at his phone again.
The sounds of the crowd behind me say otherwise. I can still hear their cheers, their calls for an encore.
It’s my last show here at the Rusty Nail, and the crowd showed up in droves. Even though there isn’t an empty seat in the house, it doesn’t seem to matter to Devlin. It’s still not enough.
Tomorrow is supposed to be my first official day in the big leagues. There’s a heaviness in my chest, a sadness I swore I wouldn’t let myself feel tonight. I just wanted to enjoy this last moment.
“You’re never going to make it if you keep performing like that.” There’s a callousness in his voice I never dreamed I would hear when I first met him.
But he’s right. I’m not going to make it. Not to the studio tomorrow. Not onto a stage at a large venue. This right here is it for me.
“Can’t you hear them?” I say, with the last bit of hope drained. “Everyone loved it.”
By the way his head snaps up, I’m in for it. He may only give verbal lashings, but that’s more than enough.
“Jesus, Ember, that was amazing. I swear you get better with every performance. You’re going to kill it out there.” Saved by the sound of Rick’s voice booming through the room.
Rick Romano is the owner of the Rusty Nail, the bar I have been performing at for the better part of two years. It was my first—and only—steady gig. Rick gave me a chance, and with that chance came filled seats in his bar and an up-and-coming music career for me.
Tonight, all that changes, and I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Rick’s help.
Devlin’s laughter fills the room.
“What’s so funny?” Rick asks. He’s the only person I know who isn’t intimidated by Devlin.
“What’s so funny is you. You and this shit bar you run make you think you know everything.”
The shit bar Rick runs has become one of the hottest bars in Nashville since he took over. Anyone who is anyone comes here, artists to be discovered and guys like Devlin, who are looking for their next talent.
I give Rick a small smile, one that pleads with him to stop. There’s no need to do this anymore. After tonight, there won’t be anything to worry about. Not that Rick ever listens to me when it comes to Devlin. Fair play, I suppose, since I never listened to his warnings, either.
Luckily, I don’t have to worry about it because Devlin’s phone rings before things can escalate.
“It’s Xavier. I have to take this.” He walks away to take the call in private but turns back and looks at me one more time. “Change your clothes. You look like a whore.”
I flinch.
“What a piece of work,” Rick says, his face a deep shade of red as he holds back his anger. With Devlin gone, Rick turns to me. “You look beautiful, Ember. In a few hours, you don’t have to think about that asshole again.” Rick nods toward the small storage room that he turned into a makeshift dressing room for me. We head in, and once we’re inside, Rick turns around so I can change.
“I’m glad we have a minute.” I hear the sound of something metal hitting the table. “Those are the keys for the car. I’ll have it washed, gassed, and ready for you to go. All the documents you need will be in a folder on the passenger seat.”
“Is this really happening?” I’m still unable to wrap my mind around that the crazy plan Rick and I came up with months ago was finally coming to fruition.