Page 47 of Jude

‘It’s the only way we get chow down, babe. Musicians are notorious for starving themselves for our art. Nari is our band mum and a paragon and stickler for keeping us healthy. So when she informed all six of us she was doing it, we’d no comeback. There’s plenty of food, so feel free to eat what you want, make whatever you need.’

It was the kitchen of my dreams, but as I glanced around the adjoining living areas, the lack of personality became glaringly obvious.

We ended the tour in his studio.

The walls were decorated with mountain guitars and a shelf of music trophies, which I studied as he set his favorite acoustic guitar on a velvet stand.

The room was also packed with vintage amplifiers, leather cases, and lyric sheets covering the desk.

It was the most lived-in space in the residence; the rest of it felt like a luxury hotel.

I chalked it up to his relentless touring schedule; one of a man who lived on planes and buses, who had little time to put down roots and make his house a home.

Staring at his album awards, I gathered my courage and smoothed my palms over my denim jeans.

‘Signore, I mean Jude,’ I corrected myself. ‘Would you play a little of your music for me? Just a small piece?’

Jude arched a thick eyebrow in clear surprise, his eyes searching my face to see if I meant it.

I did, and nodded to confirm it.

With a huff, he picked up the instrument, his tattooed fingers settling over the wooden neck, and plucked a series of intricate, minor-chord progressions.

He sat in a deep chair in front of the sound mixer.

He strummed up a warm-up tune as a slow, uncharacteristic smile crossed his rugged features, softening the harsh lines of his jaw.

It was clear he loved his craft.

Then he began to sing.

His voice was a deep, resonant rumble.

He sang a song so beautiful and haunting that the emotion it evoked overwhelmed me.

It wasn’t an aggressive, grunge confessional; this was a raw, stripped-back, acoustic, finger-picking guitar lament about survival and lost love.

It was so poignant, I wiped away a stray tear before it tracked down my cheek.

In that moment, I understood why he and his band had such a fanatical following.

The song spoke to the soul and went deeper than any generic pop anthem ever could, cutting straight down into the core of human suffering and endurance.

The final chord died away, leaving an intense silence in the room.

Our eyes locked, and for three long seconds, my heart skipped a frantic beat.

‘So beautiful, I murmured, unable to resist.

Jude sliced his heated gaze away, his mouth tightening as he gripped the guitar and placed it on a stand.

A shiver raced down my spine at the abrupt shift in the atmosphere.

‘I’ve got shit to catch up on in here,’ he muttered, turning his back to me. ‘Help yourself to whatever you need.’

I turned to leave.

‘One more thing, Sofia,’ he rasped. ‘Tomorrow, I’ll head into the city to the Six Sinners HQ for a rehearsal block. After that, I’m going to The Sanctuary to talk to the administrative director. I’m going to see what kind of entry-level office work they have available for you so we can get your paperwork sorted. I’ll be back before dusk. Need anything, call me.’