Aria made it three blocks before she had to stop and sit on a bench, her hands shaking too much to carry her guitar safely. What the hell was she doing? This was supposed to be a simple gig—perform, get paid, boost her career. Instead, it was turning into something that felt suspiciously like the beginning of a relationship with a man who existed in a completely different stratosphere.
Her phone buzzed. Mei, with perfect telepathic timing.
Mei: How'd the venue visit go? Is the stage amazing?
Aria: Stage is perfect. Dominic basically said he wants to date me after the gala.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Then her phone actually rang.
"He WHAT?" Mei's voice could probably be heard in Jersey.
"Not in those exact words. But he made it clear he's interested in me beyond just the professional relationship." Aria watched tourists pose for photos near the Vessel. "And I think I might be interested back."
"Okay. Okay, we need to break this down logically." Mei took an audible breath. "Pro: he's hot, successful, clearly respects your talent, and hasn't done anything skeevy despite having ample opportunity."
"Agreed."
"Con: he's a literal billionaire with the power to make or break your career. Also, you have trust issues the size of Manhattan and a history of self-sabotaging when things go too well."
"Also agreed."
"So the question is: are you interested because he's genuinely amazing, or because he represents everything you've convinced yourself you can't have?"
Aria groaned. "Why do you have to be insightful? Can't you just tell me what to do?"
"Babe, I can't tell you whether to pursue a billionaire who watches 127 videos of your performances and hires your boss to make you comfortable. That's some serious romance novel territory that requires your own judgment call."
"He watched all my videos," Aria said softly. "Not to vet me as a performer. Just to... listen. Like he was trying to understand me through my music."
"And how does that make you feel?"
"Terrified. Seen. Excited. Like I'm standing at the edge of something that could either be amazing or destroy me."
"Welcome to vulnerability, party of one." Mei's voice gentled. "Look, here's what I think: you're going to spiral about this for two weeks, convince yourself it's a bad idea, then either ghost him or show up to the gala with so much emotional armor that you might as well perform in a tank. But Aria? Maybe—just maybe—you could try something different this time."
"Like what?"
"Like letting yourself want something without immediately preparing for it to be taken away. Like trusting that you deserve good things from good people. Like being brave enough to see where this goes instead of deciding it's doomed before it starts."
Aria closed her eyes. "What if I'm not brave enough?"
"Then fake it. That's what the rest of us do. Nobody's actually brave, Aria. We're all just terrified people pretending we know what we're doing until we figure it out for real."
After they hung up, Aria sat on that bench for another twenty minutes, watching the city flow around her. Delivery bikes weaving through traffic. Tourists consulting phones and paper maps. Street vendors calling out lunch specials. This was her New York—chaotic, real, unpolished.
Dominic's New York was private elevators and penthouse galas and buildings named after his company. Two different worlds that maybe, possibly, could intersect for more than just one performance.
Or maybe she was being naive. Maybe rich men collected talented women like art pieces—admired them, displayed them, then moved on to the next fascinating acquisition.