It’s a fair question. My apartment, now technicallyourapartment, has never hosted that many people at once. Having both our friend groups collide feels strangely intimate, more real than this charade deserves to be.
“Just wondering if Brandon and Alex will manage to be in the same room without competing over who can do the most dangerous stunt.”
Jess laughs, and it sounds almost genuine. “My money’s on Brandon.”
“Traitor.”
The car slows as we approach the theater, and Jess’s grip on my hand tightens.
She hasn’t said much since we started our drive. Not because she’s nervous, exactly, but likely because she’s preparing: for the spotlight, for the questions, for the fact that tonight, she’s not just a journalist; she’s also the story. We’re the story. Tonight, the cameras are aimed at her from both sides.
“Hey,” I say quietly, leaning in. “You’ve got this.”
She turns to me, and for a second, vulnerability flickers in her eyes, and maybe a little gratitude. I reach up and gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers skim her cheek, lingering there for a heartbeat too long as my thumb sweeps softly across her skin.
Jess nods once, lips parting like she wants to say something, but then the car door opens, and the moment dissolves into a wall of flashing lights and high-pitched shouts.
She steps out first, and for a second, I forget to follow.
Slipping the coat from her shoulders, she hands it to an assistant at the curb, and then she’s completely, devastatingly revealed.
Her dress is the color of midnight, a deep navy that hugs every curve like it was sewn onto her body. The neckline dips just enough to make my mouth dry, and the fabric glides over her hips like liquid. With her hair swept back and her bold red lips, she is the perfect mix of cool and confident. She’s not just stunning. She’s undeniable.
I swallow hard and step out after her, adjusting my suit like it might somehow make me worthy to stand next to her.
Every touch between us now is calculated. A hand at herwaist. A brush of fingers along her back. Close enough to look intimate. Careful enough to maintain the line. It’s exhausting.
“Lucas! Jess! Over here!” The paparazzi shout from all directions, desperate for shots of Hollywood’s surprising new power couple.
Further ahead, I spot Grant and Sophia. He’s effortlessly perfect in his suit, and she looks like a damn Oscar statuette in gold. Grant gives me a subtle nod of approval, maybe even pride. Sophia catches Jess’s eye and mouths,You two look amazing.
Jess beams, and something catches in my chest.
We’re halfway down the carpet when I see Marcus circling like a shark that’s scented blood. His eyes lock on Jess with that same smarmy, predatory gleam I remember from Vegas, and something hot and possessive flashes through me.
“Incoming at two o’clock,” I murmur. “Marcus alert.”
She goes still for half a second. “Great.”
Marcus intercepts us with practiced smoothness. Wearing expensive cologne and a slick smile, he exudes the kind of charm that’s too practiced to be real. “Jess! Absolutely radiant tonight.” His eyes drag down and back up her body, and my jaw ticks. “Marriage clearly agrees with you.”
“Marcus,” she says evenly. “Hope you enjoy the movie tonight.”
“Lucas.” He nods, but his smile never reaches his eyes. “Mind if I steal your wife for a moment? Wanted to discuss some upcoming opportunities.”
Before I can respond, he’s already reaching for her elbow.
Nope.
I slide my arm around her waist and tug her subtly closer. “Actually,” I say, pressing a kiss to her temple and letting it linger just long enough to send a message, “we’re on a pretty tight schedule tonight. But I’m sure she’d be happy to set something up later this week. Just reach out to her office.”
Jess leans into me like we rehearsed it. “Absolutely. My assistant can find time in my calendar.”
Marcus’s smile tightens. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to separate the newlyweds.”
As he walks away, Jess tilts her face up to mine.
“My hero,” she murmurs sarcastically, but there’s something soft in her expression, something unspoken that lands like a punch to the chest. Something that tells me I just might be.
