Can You Sing?

Lex found Rose exactly where he expected her—elbow-deep in cleaning supplies in one of the smaller sitting rooms at the Maddox estate. Dust swirled lazily in the sunlight streaming through heavy curtains as she scrubbed at an old side table.

The room smelled faintly of lemon polish and wood varnish, the same way it always had. The same way it did in his memory.

Lex lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching her work. Her hair was tied back loosely, a few stray strands framing her face. There was something steady, almost rhythmic, in the way she moved, like she was lost in her own world.

It reminded him of something she'd once said.

"In another life," Rose had told him, "I'd be up there—singing under the lights, maybe. Just once, I'd want to feel what that's like."

She'd laughed it off back then, a quiet, wistful thing she hadn't meant for him to take seriously.

But Lex had remembered.

"Didn't know this place came with a full-time maid," he said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Rose glanced over her shoulder, her expression immediately shifting to a mixture of suspicion and exasperation. "Didn't know interns were allowed to wander."

She tossed the cloth into the cleaning bucket and straightened, crossing her arms.

Lex smirked. "I had business."

"At the house of your uncle who hates you?" Rose arched a brow. "Sure. Makes sense."

Lex ignored the jab, stepping further into the room. His gaze drifted to the grand piano in the corner, its lid slightly ajar, the keys dulled by dust.

"You ever play this thing?" he asked, gesturing to it.

Rose raised a brow. "I dust it."

"That's not what I asked."

She gave him a flat look, then shrugged. "I used to. Haven't touched it in years."

Lex tapped one of the lower keys, letting the deep hum settle between them. His fingers lingered on the edge of the piano, but his thoughts weren't on the music. He turned to her, his expression thoughtful.

"Can you sing?"

Rose blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Lex grinned, leaning against the piano. "Simple question. Can you sing?"

Her arms tightened across her chest, her brow furrowing as if he'd just asked her to rob a bank. "Why? You starting a boy band or something?"

"Funny," Lex said, his tone light but his eyes serious. "I'm serious."

Rose hesitated, her gaze narrowing as she tried to read him. "I don't know. I haven't tried in a while."

That's not a no, Lex thought.

He stepped away from the piano, circling toward her. "I've got something I'm working on. A project. I need talent—real talent. You've got the look. Maybe the voice too."

Rose let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, great. Is this where you offer to 'make me a star'?"

Lex smirked faintly. "Wouldn't hurt to try."

Her expression softened just slightly, but she didn't let her guard down. "Lex… what is this really about?"

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice like they were sharing a secret. "I came across some old tracks. Songs from artists no one remembers, but they're good. I'm planning to revive them—give them to new talent."

Rose's brow furrowed. "And you think I'm new talent?"

"I think you're someone who knows how to hold a room," Lex replied simply. "And that's half the job."

Rose studied him, her eyes searching his face for some hint of an ulterior motive. Finally, she let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

"You're ridiculous," she said.

Lex grinned. "That's not a no."

Rose exhaled, glancing toward the piano. For a moment, her expression shifted—something wistful flickering in her eyes.

Finally, she nudged the cleaning bucket aside with her foot. "Fine. I'll humor you. But if this turns into some weird reality TV stunt, I'm out."

"No cameras," Lex promised, stepping back to give her space. He gestured to the piano. "Pick something. Let's see what you've got."

Rose rolled her eyes but moved toward the piano anyway. She ran her fingers over the keys, brushing away the layer of dust. Her hands hovered there for a second, hesitating.

Then, softly, she began to play.

The first notes were uncertain, hesitant—but they grew steadier with each passing second. Her voice followed, quiet at first, like she was testing the waters.

But when she found her rhythm, it filled the room.

Lex didn't move. Didn't speak.

Her voice was raw, unpolished, but there was something about it that made you stop and listen. It carried weight, vulnerability—like every note came from a place she wasn't used to sharing.

When the song ended, Rose let out a breath, her fingers lingering on the keys. She didn't look at him right away.

"Well?" she asked, her tone defensive, like she was bracing for criticism.

Lex smiled faintly, stepping closer. "You're better than I thought."

Rose snorted, shaking her head. "Wow. Way to sell it."

"I mean it," Lex said, his tone softening. "You've got something. And if you trust me, I'll make sure people hear it."

She finally turned to face him, her skepticism clear. "Why do you care so much?"

Lex's gaze didn't waver. "Because I remember you talking about it once. You said you wanted a chance to stand under the lights, even if it was just once."

Rose froze, her brow furrowing. "I don't remember that."

Lex shrugged. "Maybe it was another life."

She stared at him for a long moment, her defenses slipping just slightly. Then, with a quiet sigh, she turned back to the piano.

"I'll think about it," Rose said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lex's smirk returned. "That's all I need."

Barnie Maddox played numbers and power.

Lex?

He played instincts. And his instincts told him that Rose Russo's voice was about to rewrite the game board.