His eyes sparkled. “Wait and see.”
The black SUV pulled up just as they stepped out of the hotel. Darren opened the door for her, and she exhaled as he closed it behind them—a small pocket of privacy to hide in.
“Travis,” Darren told the driver, “let’s take the scenic route. End at the place I just texted you.”
“Sure thing,” the driver said.
Emma narrowed her eyes. “You’re being very mysterious.”
“Correct.” His expression was unreadable, except for the faint curl around his lips. “Seatbelt, please. I need a few minutes to set something up.”
She let her gaze linger as he turned his attention back to his phone, but then obeyed, clicking her seatbelt into place.
The driver turned right at the port, following the curve of the bayside. Emma looked out the window. A giant cruise ship was docked at the terminal. Beyond it, sailboats dotted the water—small flecks of white against the bright blue.
It was a relief to justbefor a moment. No laptop, her cell phone tucked away. Just air, sea, and Darren’s steady presence beside her.
“There,” he finally said, slipping his phone away. “Arrangements are being made.”
Emma shook her head at the secretive glee on his face. “You realize that if you actually kidnap me, Leah will hunt you down like Liam Neeson.”
“As tempting as that sounds...” His hand found hers on the seat between them, fingers lacing. “No. I’ll bring you back. Promise.”
A gentle warmth spread through her chest at the soft-spoken words, at the way his thumb drew small circles against her skin.
“I’m sorry about the TikTok girl,” he said. “Are you okay?”
She shrugged, looking down at their joined hands. “I don’t even dare to check how bad it is. Maybe it’ll blow over. Or maybe everyone hates me now, and I’ll just go back to being a controller.”
His fingers tightened gently around hers. “Look at me, Emma.”
She did. Sunlight flickered through the window, striking his hair, softening the darkness of his eyes. The sincerity there made her heart pinch.
“I know this is a lot right now. But trust me, it will blow over. The people who jump on this kind of thing aren’t your true fans. They just feed on the drama because they have nothing better to do. That doesn’t define you. So don’t let it.”
She let the words sink in. “You’re right. And I shouldn’t complain. You’ve been through much worse.”
He gave a somber smile, squeezing her hand lightly and then pulling free. “So I guess you know about Alana. Yeah...that was a lesson. But it’s not a competition. Doesn’t make what you’re feeling any less valid.”
Emma hesitated. Normally, she would’ve taken that kind of retreat as a boundary. But the tight set of his jaw hinted they were at the edge of something raw, and she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “What...happened with her?”
He turned to the window as the car veered away from the bay and into the city streets, his gaze distant. “I was young and in love. New to the celebrity thing, and far too full of myself. He sighed quietly before he continued.
“Alana was a whirlwind, drawn to the spotlight like it was the sun. Or maybe more like oxygen. And I went along with it. Everything we did was public. Max was my manager even back then; he helped us set things up. Always a photographer waiting wherever we went. Needless to say, the tabloids loved us. For a while.”
He cocked his head. “Or well—they loved us even more when things fell apart. One tabloid owner claimed he’d bought a car exclusively with the profits from our breakup.”
Emma’s stomach dropped. To think she was spiraling over one silly interview. “That’s horrible.”
He shrugged. “That’s British tabloids for you. And we should have known better. If you take the public route, you don’t get to take that back when things go south.”
“But you were so young. Max should have warned you, not fanned the flames.”
“He did,” Darren said. “He laid it all out when Alana and I first got together. But when I made the choice, he respected that. And he did his best to manage it when things got out of hand. Max can come across as very...industry. But he’s a decent guy when it matters.”
Emma didn’t say anything, but she wasn’t convinced. The tabloids probably weren’t the only ones who had profited from Darren’s public profile. “What happened between you and Alana?” she asked instead.
“She was fragile,” Darren said. A trace of sadness crossed his eyes. “Needed constant validation, attention, worshipping. As if she would cease to exist without it. When she got it, she was the most charming person you could imagine.
