under his control

The Warning Sign

Kale's POV

The cracked leather seat of the yellow taxi cab felt incredibly uncomfortable, but I barely even noticed it. I was folded into the corner of the passenger seat, forehead almost to the glass, watching downtown LA blur past in streaks of gold and red.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

I shoved them in my hoodie pocket and pretended that would help but it didn’t. Because all I could feel was the ghost of Jace’s hands on me.

Ten minutes ago we’d been in a VIP bathroom. We were so close to having s*x right there. What the hell is he doing to me?

The thought came out ragged. I dug my nails into my jeans to ground myself. He’d almost not stopped. And the worst part, the part that made my stomach flip, was that for half a second I hadn’t wanted him to stop.

Jace wasn’t a man. He was gravity, and I was already falling.

“Hey, kid.” The driver’s voice cut through it. Gruff, but not unkind.

I blinked and sat up. The city lights slid off my face. The guy in the front seat had a faded Dodgers cap and lines around his eyes. He was watching me in the rearview with this big, dopey grin.

“I knew you looked familiar,” he said. “You’re that kid from California Got Talent, right? The one who tore the stage up tonight? Kale?”

The name hit me weird. Hearing it from a stranger.

Something warm pushed past the cold in my chest. “Yeah,” I said, and couldn’t help the grin that tugged at my mouth. “That’s me.”

“No way.” He laughed, shaking his head. “My daughter and I haven’t missed an episode all season. We usually complain the judges pick the safe ones. But you? You’re different. Dark... Real... We were screaming when they called your name for quarter-finals.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “You better tell your daughter to vote, then,” I said, leaning forward on my elbows. My voice came out easier now. “Next round is this Friday. I’ll need every vote I can get if I’m gonna win this thing.”

“You’ve got ours, kid. All ten of them.” He winked. “You’re going straight to the top.”

The cab rolled to a stop in front of my building. The glass tower caught the streetlights and threw them back at me. Home or whatever passed for it now that Jace paid the rent.

I handed the driver cash and too much of a tip. “Thank you,” I said. “For real.”

He tipped his cap. “Knock ’em dead, Kale.”

The door shut and the cab pulled away. The air outside was cool. For a second I felt it... that stupid, bright, superstar feeling. Like I’d earned this. Like I wasn’t just someone’s project.

I turned toward the lobby, digging in my hoodie pocket for my keys. My fingers brushed fabric, then metal that shouldn't be there. I stopped and pulled it out.

It was a cheap black flip phone. I didn’t own this. My stomach dropped out. It had to have been slipped into my pocket backstage. In the chaos.

The screen lit up in my hand and the first thing I saw was a new message from an unknown number.

My throat went dry. The lobby doors slid open behind me but I didn’t move. I just stared at the text.

"Don’t wear the silk.

Don’t go to the penthouse.

He’s not who you think he is."

That was it. No name. The phone buzzed again before I could breathe.

"If you sleep in that penthouse tonight, tomorrow won't belong to you."

My fingers went numb. The phone felt too hot, too heavy. I looked up at the building. Jace was up there. Probably already waiting. And someone knew. Someone was trying to warn me.

“Everything okay?” The doorman. I hadn’t even heard him come over.

I shoved the phone back in my pocket so fast. “Yeah,” I lied. “Just... spam.”

He nodded, but his eyes flicked to my hand in my pocket. “You look pale, man. You need water?”

“No. I’m good.” I forced a smile. “Long night.”

I walked inside. The lobby was too quiet. Marble floors, gold accents, the smell of roses from the giant arrangements by the elevators. The same smell that was in Jace’s dressing room.

My phone vibrated suddenly. It was a message from Jace.

"You home yet?"

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The elevator ride to the penthouse took too long. Every floor ding felt like a warning.

The doors opened. The penthouse was dark except for the city bleeding in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

And Jace was there.

He wasn’t sitting. He was standing in the middle of the living room, in black sweats and nothing else, arms crossed. The shopping bags from the studio were on the coffee table. Unopened.

He looked up when I came in. His eyes did that thing. That slow drag over me, like he was cataloging every inch.

“You’re late.” His voice low. No anger. Worse.

“Cab took forever,” I said. It sounded stupid even to me.

He didn’t move. “Take off the hoodie.”

The command landed in my chest. My brain short-circuited the way it always did when he used that tone.

I didn’t.

I stood there with my hands still in my pockets. One around my real phone. One around the burner.

Jace’s eyes narrowed. “Kale.”

I didn't move from where I was and for a second I thought he’d cross the room. I thought about the bathroom stall. About how easy it would be, but he didn’t. He just tilted his head.

The phone in my pocket buzzed again.

Jace’s gaze flicked to my hoodie. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” I said too fast.

He stepped forward, one step. Then another. Until he was close enough that I could smell his cologne under the roses. Until I could feel the heat off him.

“Show me.”

I pulled out my phone instead. The screen was blank. Jace stared at me. Really stared. And I saw it... the calculation. The question he wasn’t asking.

Finally he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re tired,” he said. “Go to bed. Rehearsal’s at 9. Wear the silk.”

He turned and walked to the elevator. No looking back, like he already knew I’d obey. The moment the door shut, I sagged.

I pulled the other flip phone out, then read those messages again.

"He’s not who you think he is."