“Are you for real?” His brows knit. “You can’t even go to a quiet bar and share a few drinks?”
“I’m sorry.” I may have wiggled my way out from under the paparazzi microscope for now, but that doesn’t mean they’re not waiting for the next opportunity to set me on fire.
“No. I’m sorry.” He slaps a hand to his chest. “I’m fucking sorry that such a beautiful, talented woman is in hiding because the world is filled with ignorant, judgmental assholes. How are you going to feel on your deathbed when you realize you only lived half a life because you were scared of what the scum of the earth might think?”
I shake my head. “Thank you for the dramatic concern, but I’m not scared, Linden. I’m petrified.”
“All the more reason to face your fears.” He claps his beer down on the counter, then holds out a hand. “Come on. We’re getting out of here.”
My pulse spikes. “I can’t.”
I’ll be judged. Vilified.
“Come on,” he repeats, this time as a demand. “I’ll look after you. I have a condo in the city and there’s a bar right down the road. We can get my usual secluded booth at the back of the room, shit-talk more lyrics, and create a chart-topper while you step out of the shell you’ve been hiding in.”
The old me wouldn’t have hesitated. But I’m not the old me anymore. I’m the shadow of the person I once was. “I—”
“It’s a few drinks at a bar. A baby step. My friend manages the place. He won’t let us down where security is concerned.”
I’m tempted. It’s not like I enjoy being a hermit.
I want to live. To be seen. To be heard. But I’ve spent so long hiding that stepping out of the shadows feels like a huge mistake, especially without Mason at my side.
“You told me to trust you enough to be vulnerable.” He grabs my hand and tugs me to my feet. “It’s your turn to do the same. I’ll look after you. I promise.”
CHAPTER 4
Mason
“I don’t think the world has any idea how heroic you are.” Sophia’s eyes gleam, her flirtatious expression now cemented in place after hours of recited history. “You actually lunged at the man who held you at gunpoint. Why didn’t you ride that publicity train?”
“Maybe because publicity doesn’t tend to have a positive spin for me and Sid.”
She ignores the comment. “The attacker was her assistant, right?”
I suppress a scoff. That’s the exact angle the press took. How Sidney’s assistant shot me. How her choices could’ve ended my life. “I’d prefer to keep his identity out of the movie and focus instead on Sid’s part in keeping Reckless Beat together.”
“His information is already readily available. It’s not like it isn’t one Google search away.”
“Then let viewers turn to Google. I don’t want his name or his job mentioned.”
She drags in a deep breath, not hiding her annoyance at my growing list of caveats.
I don’t give a shit. This is the price of sharing our story.
“Tell me about Sean?” She takes a handful of chips from the packet I brought out earlier. “After the viral video you said things between you were rocky. I assume the shooting didn’t help. Has your friendship recovered?”
“One hundred percent. We’re solid.”
“And the other band members? How did they feel?”
“They handled it the best they could. But we’re all better than we’ve ever been. They’re actually in town. When we’re not touring or working on music, we catch up as often as possible, and tonight is one of those occasions.”
She pauses in the middle of putting a chip to her mouth. “Could we arrange some sort of get-together so I can hear their side of things?”
No way in hell. “This isn’t their story. It’s about Sid and—”
Laughter carries from inside the house. Sidney’s laughter.
I bristle.
It’s been a while since I’ve heard that sound inspired by someone other than me. A damn long fucking time.
I turn to find her entering the living room, her face flushed with delight as Linden walks along at her side.
I should be happy for her. But the heat building in me isn’t the positive kind. I’m goddamn jealous. Paranoid, too. She shouldn’t be letting her guard down this easily.
“You’re such an inspiration, Mason.” Sophia leans forward, reclaiming my attention as she places her hand on my knee. “Thank you for being candid with me.”
“You’re crossing a line,” I snarl.
Sidney’s laughter evaporates. The glass door slides open.
I don’t need to take another look to know the silence is thick with my fiancée’s annoyance.
“You two sound like you’re having a great time.” Sophia retracts her touch and twists toward the house. “What have you both been up to?”
“Work,” Linden replies in a sickeningly seductive drawl. That fucker should quit the music biz and slide right into porn narration. “Mason.” He meets my gaze and nods in greeting. “How are things?”
Is the glaze in his eyes from liquor? Is he drunk?
“Fabulous,” I grate. “How are things with you and my fiancée?”
He smirks. “Perfect.”
I can’t tell if he’s unconsciously goading me or if he has a death wish. Either way, I want him six feet under.
“I actually have a bone to pick with you.” He slides a hand around Sidney’s shoulders. “How can you let this woman hide herself away? She needs to be taking on the world.”
How? Because the goddamn world brought her to her knees. Hiding kept her safe. It kept her fucking tears at bay.
“Was your question intended as an insult?” I ask. “Do you actually think she’s weak-willed enough to be controlled by me?”
He straightens. His face slackens. “No, that’s not what I—”
Sidney clears her throat. “We’re going out for a while. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
It’s my turn to straighten. Slacken. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.” Her smile is forced. I can’t tell if her simmering agitation is aimed at me or Little Miss Touch-a-Lot. “I hope the details for the movie are coming along well.” Her tone implies otherwise. “I’ll call if I can’t make dinner.”
She doesn’t wait for a reply before turning on her heels and starting her trek back through the living room.
“Wait.” I push from my chair. “I’ll drive you.”
Linden glances after her for a beat, his focus returning to mine when she doesn’t stop. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve already called an Uber.”
My nostrils flare.
“Don’t worry.” He raises his palms in surrender. “I’ll look after her.”
“You do that.” I speak through clenched teeth. “You might also want to stop touching my future wife if you enjoy the use of your hands.”
His mouth opens, to protest or boast, I don’t know. Then he lowers his arms to his sides with a nod. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m just really enjoying working with her.”