Geneva laughs it off easily. "Please, we're much better as friends. Besides"—she turns to Sophia—"I hear you're the new star in Grant's life. Professionally speaking, of course. However, Hazel won't stop talking about your acting lessons. It's all 'Sophia says' this and 'Sophia showed me' that."
"She's a natural," Sophia says smoothly, but I can see the uncertainty in her eyes. I step closer, not touching her but hopefully close enough that she can feel what I can't say.
"It's so refreshing," Geneva continues, placing her hand on Sophia's arm—a genuine gesture. "Finding someone in this industry who's real. Grant's always been particular about who he lets into Hazel's life, so the fact that you're staying at the house, helping with rehearsals? It really speaks volumes."
I see Lucas stiffen. The press members scribble frantically.
"Speaking of rehearsals," I cut in, "Sophia's presenting soon. We should probably?—"
"Oh, of course!" Geneva beams. "We'll catch up later. I want to hear all about this project you two are working on."
Lucas smoothly steps in to redirect the press, but what's done is done. Something about the way they're watching us—I can almost see the way their heads are working on the angles they can spin.
I walk her toward the stage near the front of the room and try to apologize, but she stops me.
"I need to get ready. Can we talk after?"
I can't tell if she's upset or nerves have her, so I just nod. I watch her step behind the makeshift platform before I head back over to the bar.
From my spot at the back of the ballroom, I watch Sophia take the stage. The lights soften around her as she approaches the microphone, and even from here, I can see how the audience leans forward, drawn in by her invisible magnetism.
"The children at Project Teddy Bear," she begins, her voice clear and strong, "have become my greatest teachers." She pauses, and a gentle smile touches her lips. "In Hollywood, we love to talk about bravery. About diving into challenging roles and tackling difficult subjects. But true courage? I see it every day in those hospital rooms. I see it in these incredible kids who've faced battles no child should have to fight yet somehow wake up each morning with hearts wide open, ready to love and trust and hope again."
She glances down at her notes but doesn't need them. The words flow from somewhere deeper. "What amazes me most is their pure, unshakeable belief in possibility. They don't let fear of falling stop them from reaching for the stars. They don't let past hurts keep them from opening their hearts to new joy. While weadults spend so much time building walls to protect ourselves, these children remind us what it means to live with real courage, to chase your dreams with your whole heart, no matter the odds."
Her eyes find mine in the crowd—just for a moment, but it's enough to stop my breath.
"These children show us that sometimes the bravest thing we can do is simply believe. Believe in magic. Believe in miracles. Believe that some things are worth the risk of any pain that could follow. Because, in the end, isn't that what makes life beautiful? Not the chances we calculated perfectly, but the leaps of faith we took when our hearts knew it was right."
The applause is thunderous, but I barely hear it. My mind is racing as pieces fall into place. Lucas was right. We need to get ahead of the press narrative. But more than that, Sophia's words echo in my head. Some things are worth the risk despite the pain that could follow.
I've spent so long protecting myself, protecting Hazel, calculating every risk, but maybe it's time to be brave. I pull out my phone.
ME
We need to talk tomorrow. About Sophia. About getting ahead of things.
LUCAS
Finally. I'll be in your office at 9am.
Twenty minutes later, I find Sophia in a quiet alcove off the main ballroom, looking out at the LA skyline. The sounds of the gala feel distant here. I step up behind her, and I'm surprised when she speaks.
"Why didn't you tell me she'd be here?" she asks quietly, not looking at me.
I wrap my arms around her and relax when she leans into me. "I don't know," I admit. "I thought about it. Kept picking up my phone to text you. Maybe…" I trail off, not sure how to finish that sentence.
"Maybe what?" Her voice is soft and vulnerable in a way she rarely allows herself to be.
"Maybe I was afraid for my two worlds to collide," I whisper.
She turns in my arms and brings her hands up to my face to trace my jaw before pulling me closer and eventually pressing her lips to mine. The kiss is delicate but quickly turns eager. Her fingers twist in my hair, and my hands slide down her hips and around the swell of her ass as my dick turns to steel.
"Grant," she moans.
I search my memory for any place we can escape to undetected, but there's just too much risk someone will see us. We're already taking a chance by making out like teenagers in a dark corner.
I break the kiss and place my forehead on hers.
