Two more weeks in Turks and Caicos. Unbelievable. As if Stella needed more sun. Stella and Brandon had been supposed to leave that morning, and Musa and Stella had planned to see each other that night. Instead, the newlyweds had decided to extend their stay, effectively abandoning Musa. Bloom was in California with Sky because his grandfather had passed, Aisha was on a date and Tecna was having dinner with her parents for her mother's birthday. Musa knew Aisha would drop her date if she asked, but she didn't want to be that friend. Besides, she knew Aisha and this guy – Nick or something – had already had to reschedule their date twice. Stella had been extremely apologetic, but that did nothing to appease Musa. Musa had really been looking forward to it; this was the longest she'd gone without seeing Stella besides her first tour. She was also really itching for some socialising; she'd been working a lot lately and she'd not had a chance to hang out with her friends – besides Aisha – since the wedding. Then there was the fact that tomorrow was the worst day and she needed something positive to offset how miserable the next twenty-four hours would be.

Musa wandered through the penthouse, grabbing a beer from the fridge and a bag of chips. She'd decided to spend her evening in the hot tub. If she was stuck alone, she might as well try to enjoy it. Calling Jared had crossed her mind, but the idea of spending the evening with him didn't entice her. She couldn't explain why, and maybe there wasn't a specific reason, she just didn't feel like seeing him. They'd made up since the incident at dinner last week – their fights never lasted long as he would usually come around and apologise after a day or two – and he'd visited her at the studio yesterday with lunch. He kept asking about his idea to push Riven to quit and Musa was still torn on it. Having Riven out of her home sounded appealing, but she had no idea who he'd be replaced by. It was kind of a the devil you know is better than the devil you don't kind of deal. She'd texted the girls about it, explaining that she really didn't like Riven, but they'd all been against it. Tecna because it was unethical; Aisha because she, surprisingly, didn't think Riven was so bad now that she'd had a chance to talk to him once and she saw firsthand that he was competent; Bloom and Stella because their brains were simple and he's hot. So, she didn't know what to do: she wanted Riven out, but she wasn't sold on the means – Tecna was right that it was a shady thing to do. Maybe that was one of the reasons she didn't want Jared over, she thought. At the studio, it would be easy to avoid any confrontation thanks to the other people around, but having Jared over meant risking him trying to antagonize Riven and she most certainly was not in the mood for that.

After dropping the beer and chips by the hot tub, she made her way to her bedroom where she changed into a small red bikini. The shorts and t-shirt she'd been wearing ended up on the floor like everything else she'd put on that week. Tecna had stayed with her once the year before while her building was being fumigated; she'd spent the entire time telling Musa how disorganised she was. Musa knew she was messy, but she chose to think of it as organised chaos; she knew where everything was, it was just that nobody else did. Besides, her mother had always said that creative people were messy by nature. Musa had no idea if it was true, but it gave her one more thing that somehow connected her to her mom, so she embraced her messiness.

The hot tub's water was hotter than she'd expected. The evening, despite it being mid-June, was a bit chillier, though, and the water's heat was welcomed. Musa lowered herself in and let out a contented sigh. She had some music playing, a cold beer and a snack. She could hear the cars below, but she didn't mind. A lot of people didn't like the noise of the city, but she did; it reminded her that she wasn't truly as alone as she felt sometimes.

Riven laid on his bed, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook. He'd tried to call Darcy, but he'd been brushed off. Icy had had a huge fight with her boyfriend and he'd stormed out. Now Icy was incredibly upset, and Darcy and Stormy were heading over for a girls' night. Riven didn't understand how Darko – Icy's longtime boyfriend and the son of some mafia boss apparently – even tolerated Icy. The girl was cold - as her nickname would suggest - and, frankly, a complete bitch. If Riven were Darko, he would've noped the fuck out of that disaster before it even had the chance to start.

At some point about an hour earlier, he'd heard Musa wandering around along with several doors opening and closing. The most recent he'd identified as the second-floor patio door. It slid, unlike the other doors, and it was close enough that he could hear it. Musa had also turned on some music, which he could faintly hear. Besides that, Musa never used the main floor patio unless she was entertaining, which he'd yet to see her do. He connected himself to the security cameras on his phone and checked the camera for the patio. Musa was in the hot tub, covered almost to her neck with her arms resting over the sides. It looked like her eyes were closed and she might be sleeping. Or dead. He supposed he should go check on her to make sure she was still alive, though he was pretty sure she was.

The June air felt warm against his skin. It was a cold night – colder than usual – but compared to the air conditioning in his room, it was practically tropical. Riven liked the cold. Darcy thought he was nuts for it, but he ran hot and being a bit too cold was better than being too hot. "You alive?" he called out from the door.

"Yes" Musa laughed. She had a nice laugh. Melodious, sweet, pretty. No.

"Okay, good." He turned to return to his room, maybe stop in the office and find another book to read – he'd finished the last one yesterday – but Musa stopped him.

"Join me?" Riven looked at her over his shoulder, curiously. She'd twisted herself to look at him and rested her chin on her fist. A kind smile played on her lips and she wore her short, dark hair up in pigtails. It made her look innocent – far more innocent than Riven thought she really was – and cute. No. "It beats going back to your room" she argued, "besides, the company would be nice."

"Nice?" he questioned. Nice was not a word anyone - except maybe Nabu and Flora - had ever used to describe Riven's presence.

"Better than being alone" Musa corrected. "For both of us. I have beer-"

"I'm working. I can't drink."

Musa mimicked his tone and Riven shot her a dirty look. She merely shrugged him off, his attitude didn't scare her. In fact, she thought he took himself far too seriously and needed to loosen up. Plus, mocking him was kind of fun; she'd done it a few times during the time they'd known each other, but it was usually behind his back. "One beer won't kill you. I've also got food. And a hot tub with a pretty girl in a bikini. How can you say no to that?"

"Are you drunk?" Musa had leaned herself back in the water, swirling her arms around her. She batted her eyelashes at him in a way that was clearly meant to be more joking than seductive. "I might be a bit tipsy" she admitted with a bashful laugh.

"I'll pass" Riven replied bluntly. Lounging around in the hot tub with a beer did sound like a good idea, but he was not going to admit that. Hanging out in the hot tub meant he'd also have to talk to her, and he didn't really want to do that either. Hot tub and beer, fun. Talking to a spoiled popstar, not fun.

Musa wasn't sure why she'd even asked in the first place. She knew he'd say no, and she didn't really think she wanted to hang out with him. Sure, the idea of seeing him shirtless was appealing, but actually talking to him, no; she'd rather cut her tongue out with a rusty knife. Riven was a self-absorbed, tactless, charmless, grumpy asshole. He just happened to be a really hot one. Maybe that was it, she reasoned to the best of her inebriated ability, maybe she was just horny and that's why she was succumbing to Bloom and Stella's logic. It had been three months since she'd gotten laid. She really needed to get laid.

"Fine" she grumbled, turning away from the door. A terribly brilliant idea popped into her head, which she set into motion before she could remind herself that she didn't want to hang out with Riven. "I sure hope I don't get drunk and fall over the railing. It is awfully close to the same height as the hot tub, don't you think?" Musa slid herself over to the other side of the hot tub and ran her hand along the railing. Now that she mentioned it, it was close to the same height as the hot tub, and she should probably have that fixed. It couldn't be safe.

"Really?" he groaned. Musa shrugged gleefully at her irritated bodyguard. "Fine, I'll join you, but I'm not gonna be happy about it."

"Are you ever happy about anything?"

After the first day when he'd seen the hot tub and pool, he'd had Musa's driver – a comically short Irish man by the name of Wizgiz – detour to his apartment on the way to the studio so he could pick up 'a few things', notably, his swim trunks. He'd not had the chance to use them yet, most nights he spent cooking and reading, and the ones he didn't usually consisted of phone sex with Darcy. That's what he'd been hoping for tonight, but Icy and her asshole had had to have a fight.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed back up to the second floor, double checking all the doors and windows while he was there. If he was going to drink on the job – even if it was just one drink – he'd make sure everything was secure first. Riven stepped into the music room – the last room on the main floor – and checked the windows. The first night he'd come in here, he'd been surprised to find that all of Musa's awards were tucked away in a corner of the room. He'd expected her to show them off more; have them front and center for the world to see. Among them, he'd counted 21 Billboards, 29 American Music Awards, 8 MTV Video Music Awards, 17 People's Choice Awards, 34 Teen Choice Awards and 15 Grammys, along with several that he didn't remember or couldn't identify; all in all, significantly more than he thought she was worth. More confusing than the tucked away award shelves was that he'd not seen Musa even enter this room once in the weeks he'd been working for her, though he had noticed she had a guitar in her bedroom too. Still, he'd not heard her play a single time.

Once he was satisfied that everything was locked, he made his way to the second story patio and slid himself into the hot tub opposite Musa. She didn't speak, only fiddled with her hair while staring out at the city below. Riven was fine to keep it that way, and they did for ten minutes until Musa decided she wanted to talk.

"Why do you hate me so much?" She shifted her gaze from beyond the balcony to just behind his head. She didn't really want to look at him and have to think about his near perfect abs. It should be illegal to have a body like that. She wouldn't see much with the water covering him – and she was thankful for that – but when he'd come out on the patio, she'd had to avert her eyes to avoid ogling him and she didn't want a repeat of that. Just horny, she'd reminded herself. Anyone would look good. Didn't mean she wanted to fuck him. "You don't even fucking know me."

"You hate me too, so what's it matter?"

"I hate you because you gave me a reason to." Riven didn't respond, merely took a sip of his beer. She was right; she'd wanted to get to know him, asked all the questions and everything. He had shut her down, but he stood by it. He had never gotten to know the people he guarded, and he wasn't going to start now. Especially with her.

"Fuck this" Musa mumbled, shaking her head. She stood up, moving past Riven to get to the steps into the hot tub. Riven didn't stop her; didn't even look at her as she grabbed her towel and wrapped it around herself. He told himself he was being respectful, but he also knew he'd caught himself watching her more than once and he didn't want that, especially right now when she was in so little. After she'd gone inside, he stayed in the hot tub for another hour, enjoying the peace and warmth. By 10:30, he decided to head to bed. For once, there was nothing on Musa's schedule the next day, but he still wanted to be up early and get a good workout in. He toweled off and closed up the hot tub, turned off the patio lights and locked the door.

On his way to his room, Riven checked on Musa to make sure she was still alive. Her lights were off, and she was bundled in her bed facing away from him. He could hear her breathing over the music she had playing at low level. He tiptoed into her room to check her windows. He usually wouldn't; she'd been pretty good, albeit unhappy, about going along with whatever safety measures he'd put in place including keeping her windows closed. Tonight, though, she was pissed at him – for nothing in his opinion – and he wouldn't be surprised if she'd thrown a little hissy fit and ignored is rules. Satisfied that the windows were closed, and Musa hadn't decided to be a pain, he left her room and went to bed.

He was woken just past one am by music. It was instrumental piano; beautiful and peaceful, but a bit too loud. He debated for a minute whether he wanted to get out of bed to ask Musa to turn it down or whether he'd just suck it up and force himself back to sleep. Ultimately, his bed was far too comfortable for him to want to leave so he decided to suck it up.

Twenty minutes later he was still awake listening to the music. He couldn't sleep with something that loud in the background. Musa slept with faint music that he, thankfully, couldn't hear through the wall; he wouldn't even know about it if not for checking on her before going to bed. Multiple times, he'd seen Darcy, exhausted from a long day at work, fall asleep while they were watching a movie, and continue to sleep through the loud explosions of the action sequences or the screams of horror movies. He didn't understand how either of them did it. He liked quiet, it reassured him everything was okay. Too often as a kid had he stayed up listening to his parents fighting. When he was five, he'd fallen asleep during one of their fights and woken up in the middle of the night to silence. He'd gone to the bathroom and found his mother passed out on the kitchen floor, bleeding from the head. The paramedics said it was a good thing Riven had had the peace of mind to call 911 because she would have died otherwise. His father was nowhere to be found that night, or the next one – he had probably been out drinking and fucking whichever neighbourhood whore he could find. His mother had lied to the police about how she'd gotten injured. When he'd gotten older, he'd realised that they'd likely known she was lying and they likely still slept fine, even knowing they'd left an unstable woman and a child in an abusive home. He couldn't though; since that night, he always stayed awake when there was loud noise just in case something happened.

Riven forced himself out of bed. It was only when he opened the door that he realised the music was not coming from Musa's room. In fact, her bedroom door was wide open and she was not in the room at all. He returned to his room, grabbed his phone, flashlight and gun – better safe than sorry – and followed the sound down to the main floor and into the music room. There he found the dark-haired singer sitting at the piano. She faced away from him, but he could tell from the sway of her body – and the fact that she'd not heard him enter – that she was lost in her own world. So, she could play, he thought as he watched her fingers glide along the keys effortlessly. He stood there for a few minutes, entranced by her playing, until he remembered why he'd even come down.

Musa jumped when he coughed loudly, hitting a key that she hadn't intended to and breaking the spell of peace that had come over the room. She twisted to look at him. "How long have you been there?"

"Why the fuck are you playing piano in the middle of the night?" he countered, ignoring her question. He wasn't about to admit to her that he'd been watching her for a few minutes or that he was mesmerized by her playing.

"I can't sleep."

"So, you choose to play the piano?"

"It's my comfort zone" she replied softly, returning her attention to the grand piano. She ran her hand along the keys.

"And you need comfort cause you can't sleep? You have the day off tomorrow to sleep in. You can't just-"

"Riven, could-"

"-read a book or lay in silence like a normal goddamn person?"

"-you please just get off my ass? I am not in the mood for this right now."

"And I wasn't in the mood to be woken up in the middle of the night because princess has trouble sleeping, but here we are!"

"Fuck off!" Musa slammed the piano lid shut and rested her elbow on it. She propped her chin on the palm of her hand. Riven waited for her to say more, it seemed like she wanted to, but she didn't speak. He could go to bed, but he had no assurance she would stop playing and he didn't want to get up again. It was only when he heard Musa inhale sharply in the otherwise deafeningly silent room that he realised she was crying.

He didn't know what to do. He wasn't a crier – he just bottled everything away like he was supposed to – and Darcy just didn't cry, like, at all. The last person he'd seen cry was Flora, and that had been three years ago when her family dog had died while she was visiting him in New York. Every inch of his mind was screaming to get as far from the tears as physically possible, but he also wasn't a big enough asshole to leave her alone when she clearly wasn't feeling well. Reluctantly, he walked over to the piano bench and awkwardly patted Musa's shoulder. He felt Musa tense under his touch, so he removed his hand. "Boyfriend troubles?" he guessed, sounding every bit as uncomfortable as he felt.

Musa lifted her eyes to meet his and scoffed as she wiped away the trail of tears on her cheeks. "No. Jared and I are fine."

"So, then what the fuck are you crying about?"

"Is my relationship really the only thing you think I have to be upset about?" Riven froze, unsure of what to respond. Musa let out an exhausted sigh and nodded towards the picture that hung on the wall beside the piano. Riven moved around the bench and shone his flashlight on the picture. A young woman stood on a stage, smiling brightly at the crowd, and maybe more specifically, the person taking the picture. She wore her dark hair up in a high bun and a long orange skirt with matching short-sleeved crop top. "Why am I looking at a picture of you?"

"It's my mom" Musa informed him, her voice catching in her throat. She paused for a moment before speaking again, her voice clearer this time. "She was about my age when that picture was taken. She died thirteen years ago."

"Fuck" Riven mumbled. He had no idea what to say. He hated when people said sorry for shit like this, so he made a point not to. For a lot of people that came across as an asshole move, but for him it was more genuine than apologising for something he had no control over.

"She had lung cancer. She would cough up so much blood that we kept boxes of kleenex in every room." Musa had no idea why she'd started talking; she hated talking about her mother's death. She'd never talked about it with the girls or even her father. She hated talking about it so much that she and her father never saw each other on the anniversary of her mother's death. He would bring flowers to her grave on that day, and she would bring them on her mother's birthday. They saw each other the day after the anniversary every year, even when Musa was touring, but never on the day of. A lot of the time, it would also be when they'd celebrate Father's Day – which this year, just happened to be the day after her mother's death. It didn't matter that they knew another year had passed without her; they never acknowledged it. Something about the way Riven responded, though, eased her. It hadn't been some bullshit apology that everyone gave; she appreciated that. Even if his lack of bullshit apology came from his not caring. "We didn't have health insurance; couldn't afford her chemo treatments, so she opted not to have them rather than sink us further into debt."

Riven regarded Musa with a raised eyebrow, but the songstress didn't see it. Her eyes were focused on the picture behind him, and her hands glided over the piano keys, which she'd opened, while she spoke. She was off in her own world and, for the slightest second, Riven wondered what the world really looked like from her point of view.

"She was a singer, too, but the cancer forced her to stop. My dad worked ridiculous hours – to the point that he was almost never home – just to keep a roof over our heads. One day, while he was working, she was making supper and she started coughing. I was doing my homework in the living room, and I didn't think much of it cause it happened so often. But then the coughing didn't stop and that worried me, so I got up to check on her. When I was on my way, she s-" Musa finally looked up at him, only to find he was staring at her with the blankest expression. Any appreciative sentiment she'd had towards him for listening to her died with his complete lack of interest. "Forget it, you don't care."

Musa pushed back the piano bench and slammed the piano lid shut again. She really did have a flair for the dramatics. She was halfway to the door when something compelled him to speak out. "I'm sorry." Musa stopped short of the door and pivoted to look at him, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I didn't know about your mom; I didn't mean to upset you."

Her head tilted sideways, and she narrowed her eyes at him skeptically before seemingly deciding he was sincere. He had been, too. He really hadn't known about her mom and, though he wasn't a fan of hers, he didn't want to give her a reason to be upset.

"I'm surprised the word sorry is in your vocabulary" she scoffed, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

"It's a rare one."

Musa rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her lips remained. It was nice to know he wasn't always an asshole. He was just usually one. A small improvement. She turned to leave again, but he stopped her. His voice was low and hesitant. "Did she... you know..."

"Die on the kitchen floor?" Musa guessed. Riven nodded and Musa shook her head. "She died two hours later in the hospital."

"Surrounded by loved ones, at least?" He didn't know why he was invested in the story of the death of a woman he'd never met, whose daughter he didn't even like. It wasn't even like he didn't know that the story ended with her dying, he just wanted to know she'd died surrounded by people that loved her. Musa seemed to love her so much that she had to be a good person, and the small, almost nonexistent, part of him that maintained any childlike innocence wanted to believe that good people died happily. His mother had overdosed when he was 11 and died instantly; she never got the chance to have her loved ones. If Riven could have, he would have been there. For all her issues, his mother had always tried to be good to him. His father had died four years ago, and Riven didn't care. Didn't visit him in the hospital, didn't go to his funeral and had yet to visit his grave. The old man deserved to rot in hell.

"Just me." Musa's tears started to stream down her cheeks again, and, despite how much she hated having people see her cry, she made no attempt to hide them. He'd already seen her cry in the last few minutes, what did it matter if he saw it again? Besides, he was at the opposite end of the room; she doubted he even saw the tears. "Her parents were dead – they died in a car accident when I was four – and my dad couldn't get there. His boss wouldn't let him leave even though his wife was... literally dying."

"That's..." He had no words. His mouth opened and closed multiple times, but his mind remained blank. Fucked up just didn't do it justice. How could anyone be so heartless? Even fucking Icy wouldn't be that cold, he didn't think.

"Yeah. I know" Musa nodded before taking a deep breath. "Anyways, now that I've sufficiently depressed you, I'm gonna try to get some sleep. I'll see you... after tomorrow most likely."

"After tomorrow?" he questioned. "Are you planning on spending most of the day locked in your room?"

"Yeah."

"Okay" he muttered, surprising even himself when he added: "Let me know if you need anything."

Musa froze, staring at with a bemused look on her face. "You're my bodyguard, not my servant."

"I'm also not the huge jerk you think I am."

"I'm not convinced. Ten minutes of niceness doesn't make you less of a jerk" the small laugh that escaped her lips gave away that she was teasing him. He would have legitimately thought otherwise if not for that laugh.

"One sob story doesn't make you less of a fake, spoiled brat" he retorted, though his voice had no bite. Something in the atmosphere shifted between them, though neither of them knew it. They stood, staring at each other for a minute before Musa stepped away, drawn to her bed by exhaustion. "Goodnight Riven."

"Goodnight Musa" he replied, heading to the kitchen to grab a glass of water before following her up the stairs to their respective rooms.