“And you’ve known him for what? Thirty-six hours?” Leah exhaled slowly. “Look, I know he’s charming as hell, but he does have a reputation. Cheating, among other things.”
Emma shook her head. “He already told me about that. You don’t know the whole story. It was a long time ago, and he’s really regretful.”
The pause that followed was enough for her to hear it—how weak, how defensive she sounded. A creeping cold tugged at her edges. The unthinkable, nauseating shame of realizing that maybe she’d been played after all.
“Right.” Leah’s voice was measured. “So itistrue.” Exasperation crept into her expression. “I hate to say this, but he’s an actor, Emma. This isn’t just about protecting your career anymore. I don’t want to see you getting hurt. And definitely not in public.”
The words landed like a slap, knocking the breath out of her.
The fear she had carried since the start—that none of this was real. That obviously Darren freaking Cole couldn’t possibly see anything in her but another gushing fan, with just slightly more advanced fanfiction.
And she’d fallen for him, utterly and fully. All her practiced caution thrown to the wind. He’d slipped past her barriers, like they didn’t even exist.
She’d let him.
“You set it in motion,” she whispered.
“I didn’t think it would go this far.” Leah’s voice was almost pleading. She took a step closer, hurt flashing across her face when Emma backed away. “I loved seeing you let go a little for once. But this isn’t a fling at the office Christmas party, Em. The whole damn world is watching. Currently thinking this is all just a cynical PR stunt.”
“Well, that’s clearly what you think too,” Emma said, her voice rough. “Just that I was too stupid to know about it.”
Leah’s silence was answer enough.
Emma stared at her, hurt slicing through her, sharp as broken glass. “Maybe,” she hissed, bitterness poisoning the word, “you shouldn’t have shoved me straight into his arms, Leah. What the hell did you think was going to happen?”
Leah huffed, taken aback. Her mouth opened like she was about to retort, but shame and anger flooded Emma’s veins, and she couldn’t bear a second more without shattering.
So she turned and walked away—walls slamming back into place, her mind screaming she should never have lowered them at all.
Chapter 36
Trust is a fragile thing.
Emma wandered the backstage corridors until she found herself outside the empty podcast room. She wanted to call Darren, thumb hovering over her phone, but her nerves were still too raw from the confrontation with Leah.
“Emma,” a voice called.
She spun around, jolting to high alert.
Sienna strode up to her. “Darren has your clothes,” she said. “He just went into one of the changing rooms. Second door on your right after the press room.”
Emma searched her expression, but Sienna’s face was a cool, unreadable mask. If Leah was right—if this had been planned—Sienna would’ve been in on it. Her, Max...Darren. She didn’t want to believe it.
He’s an actor, Emma.
“Thanks,” Emma muttered, sweeping past her.
Her boots echoed down the corridor, gaze locked on the floor. She couldn’t get out of the stupid stillsuit fast enough.
She reached the door and pulled it open before she could lose her nerve. If she started overthinking now, she’d never find the courage to face him. And she needed her damn clothes.
The room was small, fluorescents whirring faintly overhead. Racks of sequined jackets and latex armor crowded the space, mirrors rimmed with bare bulbs throwing fractured reflections across the floor.
Glitz and glamour under cold, hard lights. Fame in its essence.
Darren was there, already changed—black T-shirt, dark jeans. His hair was messily pushed back, the way it looked when he’d just run his hand through it. He turned at the sound of the door, relief crossing his face. “There you are.”
The bag they’d put their clothes in sat on a small table. Beside it, his stillsuit lay neatly folded, like a skin he’d shed.
