Stella shook her head gently. “I’m alright. The music is just a little too loud in here.”
Yvonne chuckled. “That’s exactly what makes it fun—you can’t hear what everyone else is saying, so you just enjoy yourself.”
But seeing how uncomfortable Stella looked, Yvonne didn’t drag her toward the dance floor. Instead, she guided her down a quieter corridor, leading to a different hall.
The moment they stepped in, the atmosphere shifted. Gone was the thundering beat—replaced by the soft, elegant sound of a piano drifting across the room. The space felt refined, almost intimate, with the stage set under warm lighting and a grand piano taking center stage.
Stella’s eyes were immediately drawn to the source of the music.
“What is this place?” she asked softly.
“It’s part of The Doghouse too,” Yvonne replied.
Stella frowned slightly. “Why such an odd name?”
Yvonne grinned. “They say one’s own doghouse is always more comfortable than anyone else’s home. That’s the idea behind the name.”
Then she shrugged and added, “Honestly, I don’t know what the owner was thinking. It sounds awful, doesn’t it? But believe it or not, The Doghouse is one of the most famous entertainment venues in the country. I’m shocked you’ve never heard of it.”
Stella shook her head again. “Nope. I really haven’t.”
“You really are a good girl,” Yvonne sighed. “Well then, let me give you a proper introduction.”
She took Stella on a short walk around the room. “This area is more like a high-end bar. People come here for the music. Tonight’s performance seems to focus on the piano. Sometimes they bring in violinists too. It’s more tailored for the business crowd—corporate elites looking to unwind. See those people over there? They probably just got off work and are still catching up on emails.”
Then she pointed toward a row of seats by the windows. “If you sit over there, you’ll get the best night view of the city.”
But Stella wasn’t listening. Her gaze remained fixed on the man at the piano.
Yvonne followed her line of sight and smirked. “You like him?”
The pianist was a young man with shoulder-length hair and a well-groomed beard. Dressed in a crisp, stylish suit, he exuded a unique artistic charm. His fingers moved fluidly across the keys, producing rich and nuanced music. Even among the distractions of the bar, his performance demanded attention.
“He’s handsome,” Yvonne added, nudging Stella teasingly. “Want me to ask for his number?”
Stella quickly shook her head. “No, no… I just think he’s playing the Sonate Pathétique beautifully.”
Right as she finished speaking, the pianist looked up—and his eyes met hers.
Their gazes locked, briefly but unmistakably.
Yvonne raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I almost forgot—you play the piano too, and you’re an award-winning dancer. Why didn’t you continue with it?”
She remembered how surprised she had been reading Stella’s resume. Her skills were exceptional. With just a bit more time and training, she could have built a career in either field. And yet, she had settled for a modest role as a dance instructor.
Stella’s expression darkened slightly. “Something happened… with my family.”
Yvonne immediately went quiet.
She understood without needing the full story. The fact that Weston could threaten her using her family already spoke volumes about the weight she carried.
They continued wandering around until the music tapered off. The pianist stood and stepped down from the stage. A moment later, he walked directly up to Stella.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said with a polite smile. “You seem to know your music. May I invite you to join me for a duet?”
Stella blinked in surprise. She instinctively glanced at her watch. It was still early—there was plenty of time before she was due to meet Weston.
She turned to Yvonne, who was already grinning, eyes gleaming with anticipation. Stella gave her a tentative look, and Yvonne nodded with a small, helpless smile, as if saying, Go on, you deserve this.
“Alright,” Stella said softly. “But I haven’t touched the piano in a long time. I might ruin your performance.”
The man gave a gentle chuckle and extended his hand toward the stage. “Then let’s find out together.”
Meanwhile, in a quiet private room on the other side of The Doghouse, Lucas looked at the man sitting silently across from him.
“Mr. Ford,” he said casually, swirling the drink in his hand, “You don’t seem to be in a good mood tonight. What’s the matter?”
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