His hand rested near hers, close enough that she felt the warmth of it.
“What happened?”
“He finished it. But no one wanted it. Wrong background, no connections. I’ve read it, and it’s good. Really good. But the rejections broke him. He’d put everything into that dream. Money, pride, self-worth. And then...” Her throat tightened. “He shot himself. Left my grandmother with three kids and nothing. My mom was the one who found him. She was eight.”
Darren’s fingers slid over hers, warm and steady. She didn’t pull back. It felt inevitable—like magnets connecting after being held apart.
“I’m sorry, Emma.”
She gave a small shrug, blinking against the sting behind her eyes. The story had landed heavier than she’d meant it to.
“It’s ancient history. But in my family...writing isn’t exactly seen as a responsible career choice. My grandmother remarried—to an accountant. Both my parents are dentists. Like Hermione.”
That drew a low laugh from him.
“So I went to business school.” She glanced at their joined hands. “It seemed smart. Safe. But...I’ve always been writing. Always loved it. Even knowing what it cost them.”
“And you were right to,” he said gently. “Look what you’ve created. What you’ve given people.”
Too close. Too much.
She inhaled sharply and pulled back, disguising the retreat by reaching for her water. “Yeah. How about you? Are your parents artists?”
He leaned back too, giving her space. “No. Doctors.”
She finally felt steady enough to look up. “What did they say when you wanted to be an actor?”
“They told me to do what made me happy. But I’m also pretty sure they started a silent timer that day, counting down to when they’d stage an intervention.”
“I’m going to take a wild guess they never had to.”
Darren cocked his head, his expression neutral. “Getting Sebastian Vale was a stroke of luck.MidnightDominionopened a lot of doors.”
“But now you want to open others?” She shifted forward, wondering if this was her moment to steer the talk back to Lucen.
“Maybe. Sometimes you have to try something different.” His tone eased, drifting into something more conversational. “Speaking of, I tried a jellyfish salad in Shanghai on the last press tour forDarkreach. Bit wobbly, but not half as bad as you’d expect.”
Emma laughed. Fine. She wasn’t particularly keen on talking business, anyway. Not after everything that had just passed between them.
Darren refilled their glasses as they drifted into easier subjects, trading stories about terrible travel food and weird fan encounters. He was funnier than she’d expected—sharp without being cruel, quick to laugh at himself. Beneath the movie star gloss, there was something unexpectedly grounded.
And despite all the barriers she’d built, she felt him folding them down—one by one, far too easily.
The worst part wasn’t even that he did.
It was how much she wanted him to.
Chapter 17
Forced proximity. Whoops.
Time slipped away between them, as if it didn’t exist.
Until it very much did.
Darren was halfway through a bizarre story involving an alpaca, a grumpy toddler, and a director who refused to move on until the alpaca found its “emotional resonance.”
Emma watched his hands as he spoke, a little dazed, wine buzzing comfortably in her veins.
