Page 65 of Collide (The Rhapsody of Heartbeats #1)

Be My Mistake

W hile my PR team’s approach was to deny, distance, and protect me, Alex’s PR team had a very different strategy, launching a calculated attack with surgical, efficient, and merciless precision.

Within hours of my team issuing a carefully worded statement, his team had conveniently leaked images of Madison in dimly lit bars, tangled up with men who were most definitely not Alex.

The narrative shifted, headlines morphing from speculation about Alex and me to brutal scrutiny over Madison’s indiscretions. Watching it unfold was surreal—how a life could be rewritten with a few well-placed photos and salacious headlines.

And while the public heat was off us for now, the underlying reality remained—Alex could still be the father of Madison’s baby.

I exhale, glancing up at Alex, who is leaning against the kitchen island, swirling whiskey in a glass.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, watching me carefully.

I nod, setting my phone down with a shaky hand. “Yeah. I think.” The words stall, caught somewhere between my chest and throat. “It’s crazy how easy it is to manipulate what people think.”

Alex smirks, but there’s something weary underneath, like the mask he wears is starting to crack at the edges.

“Welcome to my world, ?lskling ,” he says softly.

I inhale slowly, trying to stay grounded.

His world.

A world I’m now fully entrenched in.

And yet, despite everything—the scrutiny, the turmoil, the gnawing uncertainty—I can’t help but feel a flash of gratitude that it’s a world he pulled me into.

“Alex, we still have a lot to talk about.” I sigh, staring down at my hands, the weight of everything pressing down on my shoulders.

“Nothing’s certain until I get that DNA result.” His voice drips with the deluded confidence of a man used to bending the world to his will. “They can’t do the test for another two weeks. I’d rather not stress about something that might not even be something to stress about.”

I nod, even though the words taste hollow in my mouth. This is bigger than me. Bigger than anything I’ve ever known how to handle.

My silence doesn’t go unnoticed.

Alex stands and crosses the small space between us, sitting down beside me.

He takes my hand in his, firm but gentle, grounding me with the heat of his touch.

“Talk to me. This only works if we talk, Darling,” he coaxes, his thumb brushing slow, tender circles over my knuckles, grounding me and setting my nerves on fire all at once.

After Sweden—after that earth-shattering experience where I had never felt more alive—coming back to this whirlwind feels like being torn apart piece by piece.

A small part of me wants to get off the ride. Retreat. But a bigger part of me…God, a bigger part of me isn’t ready to give this all up.

“Alex,” I breathe, barely above a whisper, my throat dry, raw. “I feel like I’m in free fall.”

His hand stills against mine, but he doesn’t let go.

His eyes lock onto me—sharp, unwavering.

He sees it all.

The cracks in my voice.

The tension in my jaw.

The way I’m barely holding myself together.

He reads the storm I haven’t even named out loud.

“Then let me catch you.” His voice is quiet, steady. “Like I did the moment you fell into my life.”

I freeze.

From the moment I stumbled into his world, I haven’t been the same. And I hate how true that feels.

I’m always the one in control.

The one who stays grounded, who keeps her distance, who knows better. But Alex makes everything feel untethered. Out of rhythm. A song progression that makes absolutely no sense, and all the sense in the world at once.

I’ve been walking a straight line my whole life, and he came in and shook me awake from the catatonic state I didn’t even know I’d been living in.

Until him.

I shake my head, barely clinging to what little control I have left. “It’s not that easy.”

“Maybe it is,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along the inside of my wrist, a featherlight touch that sets my skin buzzing. “If you’d let it be.”

And that’s the problem.

I want to.

I pull my hand away gently, standing to put distance between us, because if I don’t, I might fall right back into him without a second thought.

“My PR team practically begged me to stay away from you, to distance myself, lay low until the storm passes.”

I let out a sharp breath, pacing toward the window, staring at the city below.

“And my father—” The word feels foreign on my tongue, heavy and wrong, “had the audacity to show up at my door, acting concerned, claiming you’re going to destroy me. Like he didn’t detonate our entire family first.”

I let out a hollow, bitter laugh, the sound ricocheting off the glass.

“They think I can just flip a switch. Walk away from this. Walk away from you. Like you’re some phase I’ll get over.”

Alex leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, watching me like I’m something fragile.

“And what do you think?” he asks, voice low, careful.

I hesitate, chewing my bottom lip, my heart pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it.

Every nerve in my body screams at me to say what I feel, even if it ruins me.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“Elena,” he says, his voice unraveling at the edges. “I would destroy the whole fucking world for you.”

He stands, stepping closer, eyes locked on mine, daring me to look away.

“If it meant taking you back to that cabin, keeping you there—just us—I’d do it. I’d never let you leave.”

My breath catches. My chest aches from how badly I want to believe him.

“For you, my Darling…I’d give it all up. The career, the fame, the spotlight, everything. Say the word, and we disappear.”

His hand comes to my face, thumb brushing along my jaw like he owns it. Like he owns me.

The words hit me low and deep, cutting through all my defenses.

He’s not just offering me an escape.

He’s offering me devotion I’ve never known before.

And it hits me like a drug.

I lean into the touch I should pull away from.

“I think”—I sigh, my voice trembling but finding strength—“if you want me, then I’m yours, Alex.”

His mouth brushes the word against my skin. “Mine.”

His eyes darken, something wild flickering there.

Hunger, yes. But something softer too.

Like awe. Like I’ve just handed him my soul, and he knows it.

“Elena,” he breathes, my name spilling from his mouth like a prayer.

His fingers brush my face, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, lingering as they drift down to my jaw, coaxing it upward until my eyes meet his.

“You think I don’t know what this is doing to you? To us?” he whispers, voice rough now, like every word scrapes its way out of him. “But I can’t let you go.”

His thumb strokes along my cheekbone, unbearably soft.

“You are everything to me.” His confession slips out like a secret he can’t take back. His touch burns and soothes at once, like he’s trying to memorize me.

“Mine,” he says again.

A shiver runs through me.

Not fear.

Something worse.

The terrifying anticipation of falling too hard, too fast.

“Say it,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing to mine, his breath warm against my lips. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want us .”

I tremble all over with the weight of it. I close my eyes, and the words slip out, unguarded.

“I do.” My voice barely makes it past my lips. “If we burn, we burn together.”

His mouth curves—wicked and tender all at once—as it brushes against mine like a promise.

“Then let’s burn, ?lskling .”

His lips press into mine, sealing our fates in an instant. It might be a terrible idea. It might ruin everything. But neither of us cares.

I kiss him back with just as much fervor, hands tangling in his hair as he lifts me smoothly, my legs locking around his waist.

He carries me to the bedroom, the door swinging open with a thud.

I take him in—his need, his flaws, his fire.

I’m his. And he’s mine.

Even if it ruins me.

A few days later, it’s all hands on deck at Pacific Records.

What had felt like a firing squad days ago—a cold, tense room thick with judgment—has somehow transformed into a sunlit haven where dreams are spun out of thin air.

It’s all so fickle .

One minute, I was facing complete and total ruin because of Madison’s news. Now, those same suits are riding high off a PR victory—one they had nothing to do with.

Alex’s campaign flips the narrative. His team turns the scandal inside out and hands them a redemption arc they can repackage in time for my album launch.

I’m no longer a liability. I’m the story.

Mark paces at the head of the table, a wide grin stretching across his face as he flips through a stack of streaming stats and pre-release feedback. The numbers are up. They’re all so pleased with themselves.

Around him, the execs buzz like bees, murmuring over their tablets, swiping through glowing headlines like they hadn’t been sharpening knives just days ago.

I sit still, hands folded in my lap, pretending not to notice how quickly the tide turns when there’s something to gain.

“Elena, your first album from two years ago is charting! You’re on fire right now.” Mark stops pacing long enough to beam at me. “We think it’s time to move up the release date of your single from the upcoming album. Capitalize on the press while you’re hot.”

“Move it up? By how much?” It takes everything for me not to roll my eyes.

Kylie, sitting beside me, shoots me a quick, encouraging smile, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Release the single next week, then the album drops two weeks after that,” Mark says, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. “Your socials are exploding, radio’s playing your old stuff. People are hungry for more.”

The room hums with nods and half-muttered approvals, the energy crackling with excitement.

And for a moment, I let myself feel it.

The high.

That flicker of finally . Like maybe all the drama was worth it.

Was it? This is what I wanted…right? But the realization lands hard and cold.

Why does it feel so hollow? Like I’ve traded something sacred for a headline.

“That’s…great.” I force a smile. “Really great news.”

“Damn right, it is.” Mark claps his hands once, loud and sharp. “We’ll have the marketing team start teasing snippets tomorrow. You ready for this, superstar?”

I bite back the nerves fluttering beneath the excitement. I nod. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

The moment we step out of the conference room, Kylie tugs gently on my arm, steering me away from the others.

“Hey, can we talk?” she asks, her voice low, glancing around before guiding me into one of the smaller side offices.

Once the door clicks shut, she turns to face me. Folding her arms, her brow furrows.

“I’m really happy for you, Elena. You know that, right?” She treads carefully.

I nod, already sensing the but hanging heavy between us.

“But,” I say for her.

She sighs. “Yeah. But.” She runs a hand through her perfectly styled hair, the cracks in her calm, professional exterior starting to show. “I have to ask…did you end things with Alex?”

I stiffen, jaw tightening. “No.”

Kylie exhales, frustration and concern flashing across her face. “Elena?—”

“I have no plans to end things,” I cut in, holding her gaze steady. “Just because he might be having a baby with someone else doesn’t mean we have to end. People have babies all the time, it doesn’t mean their lives or relationships stop.”

Her eyes widen slightly, like she hadn’t expected me to be so firm.

“I’m telling you this because I care about you—you need to think about what this could do to your career if the truth comes out.

If he’s the father, and you’re standing by him publicly, it could ruin everything you’ve built before you even really get to enjoy it.

You’ll lose in the court of public opinion.

You’ll stand in the way of their ‘happy family’ ending. ”

Her words hit their mark, but still, I feel that stubborn heat rising in my chest.

If we burn, we burn together.

“I’m not going to pretend we’re nothing just to save face.” My voice wavers. “I’ve spent my whole life hiding parts of myself to make everyone else comfortable.”

Kylie softens, but she isn’t done. “I’m not saying hide forever. But at least keep this private right now. Please. For you. Protect yourself until you know where this is heading.”

I look away, staring out the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city. The sky is gray—cold and distant.

“We can’t control what people say,” Kylie adds gently, stepping closer. “But we can control what we give them to talk about.”

Her words hang heavy between us.

Finally, I turn back to her, forcing a small smile. “Thanks, Kylie. I’ll think about it.”

She searches my face for a moment, like she isn’t sure if she believes me, but finally nods.

“Okay. Just…be careful. You’ve worked too hard to let it all fall apart.”

She leaves, the door clicking quietly behind her.

I let out a shaky breath, pressing my hands to my face.

Because even though I don’t want to admit it, a part of me knows she’s right.