Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I blink, sure he’s teasing. “What?”
“Raye,” he says, standing and offering his hand. “Do you want to meet her?”
I know now that he's not joking. My pulse is throbbing loudly in my ears, my red dress is suddenly too tight. I set the glass down, the clink lost in the crowd’s chatter. “Um… I mean, yeah. Of course.”
“Come on,” he says, softly, like he’s not offering me the world. I take his hand, his fingers warm and firm, grounding me as I rise. My heels wobble on the slick marble floor, and he steadies me, his touch light, but I feel the strength behind it. He guides me through the maze of tables. Faces blur—glittering gowns, elegant suits—and I feel their glances, curious, maybe judging me as the outsider who does not belong in this scene, but Hugh’s presence is a shield, his stride confident as he leads me toward a black door at the stage’s edge.
We are allowed to slip through, and the world shifts.
Backstage is much warmer, the air heavy with the scent of coffee and static from humming equipment. Cables twist across the floor like black roots, catching the faint glow of clip lights strung along the walls. Road cases are stacked haphazardly, their edges scuffed, and a rack of costumes shimmers in the corner—silks and sequins packed like haphazard treasure. My stomach flips, nerves clawing up my throat, and I clutch my purse tighter. Hugh’s hand grazes my elbow with a quiet nudge, his voice a murmur. “She’s over there.”
I follow his gaze, and there she is—Raye, perched on a folding table, her laughter bright as she chats with a stylist twirling a makeup brush.
She’s swapped her stage outfit for a loose black tee and jeans, and her dark and classic bob is wet with sweat, but her energy radiates, undeniable, like she’s still lit from within. My feet turn to stone and my voice goes as Hugh steps back, giving me space. His absence is sudden but kind, like he knows this moment’s mine. Star-struck, I swallow, forcing myself forward.
“Hi,” I say, the word a small tremble on my lips. “I’m… Lauren. Your set was…” I falter, grasping for something worthy. “It was incredible. You’re incredible.”
Her grin is instant and warm, like we’ve known each other forever. “Aw, thanks, love,” she says, her accent curling around the words, her eyes crinkling at the edges. She leans forward, elbows on her knees, and I catch the faint glimmer of sweat on her brow, the human behind the star. “So glad you enjoyed it.” Her gaze flicks past me, landing on Hugh, then snaps back, a mischievous spark lighting her face. “This guy, though—whew, he made it happen, yeah? Flew me all the way from L.A. for this gig.”
The words hit like a gust, stealing my breath.
“What?” I whisper, my eyes darting to Hugh, but he’s studying a monitor, hands in his pockets, his face calm, giving nothing away.
My chest tightens, a storm brewing—did he do this? A star and her entourage flown over the ocean jet, just for tonight? For me? Raye doesn’t see my shock, her voice rolling on, bright and easy. “Oh, yeah, pulled every string. Don’t let this one get away, girl—he’s proper wild about you.”
I force a smile, my lips shaky, my mind splintering. It’s too much—too grand, too deliberate. Cecilia’s voice creeps in, warning of his charm, his conquests, but Raye’s warmth pulls me the other way, painting him as… what? Crazy about me? My fingers twitch, wanting to reach for something solid, but I shake her hand instead. Her grip is strong, real.
“It’s… so amazing to meet you in person. I might be your biggest fan,” I say, clinging to manners to keep myself from unraveling.
She’s gracious, asking about my night, my dress, her laugh like a friend’s, and I nod, words stumbling as I thank her, my head still spinning. A crew member calls her name, and she waves, then slips away with a wink, leaving me in the cluttered heat, her words branded in my head forever.
“Happy?” he asks from behind, voice gentle, like he’s afraid to break the spell.
I whirl around to face him, my smile wobbly but real, anchoring myself in his eyes. “Yes. Very happy,” I whisper gratefully, Raye’s revelation still pulsing. “She’s… amazing. So kind, so… real.”
“You okay?” he presses, tilting his head.
I nod, swallowing the urge to spill—that I’m floored and scared and maybe, stupidly, touched by his gesture. Maybe this is what all rich men do when they want to get into a woman’s bed.
“Yeah, fine.” I force a laugh. “I thought meeting your heroes was a bad idea, but she was perfect. Like talking to a friend. Thank you.”
“No problem,” he says, his smile easy, unaware of the storm in my head.