“Remember your media training, Cross,” he says, offering his arm like we’re walking a red carpet.
“I was about to say the same to you.” I smile.
“Please.I’ve been doing this since before I could walk.”
Nolan pushes through the doors, and the cameras swing toward us. Flashes explode, and my name is tangled with Louis’s. I can barely see, and he wraps his arm around me, guiding me to the car.
“Addison! Louis!”
“Are you two official?”
“Prince Louis, any comment on the statement from the palace?”
We move together like we’ve done this a thousand times. My smile is warm, while his posture stays relaxed and confident. His hand findsthe small of my back, and we walk at an unhurried pace, giving them what they want without giving them everything.
My mother drilled this into me before I was old enough to drive.Smile, but not too wide. Wave, but keep moving. Never let them see you sweat.
Nolan opens the car door, and I slide in with Louis right behind me before the door shuts and cuts off the shouting.
“I didn’t know the palace gave a statement,” he says, settling back against the leather.
“We can search online, if you’d like?” I pull my phone from my clutch.
“No, we can deal with it tomorrow,” he says. “I don’t want it to ruin my night.”
I give him a smile. “Sure.”
The drive to Diamond takes twenty minutes, and Louis spends most of it with his hand on my thigh, rubbing his thumb against my skin through the slit in my dress. Every few minutes, his eyes find mine and hold, that heat building between us.
Tonight is about more than just us. It’s about unapologetically being seen together in public and stepping into whatever our life will look like from now on. It’s not something we’ve discussed yet.
When Nolan pulls up to the curb, more paparazzi are waiting behind a velvet rope across the street. Word travels fast in this city.
Diamond isn’t the type of establishment that takes walk-ins. There’s no sign on the building, no website, no social media, and the only way in is if you’re on the list or with someone who is. My family’s been on it since my father’s rookie year in the NFL, back when I was still in diapers, and my biggest concern was whether my juice box was apple or grape.
The building is black marble, and on either side of the golden door, two security officers guard the entrance.
Louis takes my hand. “Ready?”
“Just make sure you look like you’re in love with me.”
He leans in and kisses me with a smile. “Easy.”
Nolan opens the door, and Louis gets out first, blocking the paps from taking pics of me while I get out of the car. My heels hit the sidewalk, and the flashes explode; they’re even brighter this time. When our eyes meet, everyone and everything disappears.
“Gorgeous,” he whispers as I stand beside him.
I give the cameras a confident smile and a small wave, nothing they can twist. Louis’s arm slides around my waist as we walk toward the entrance. Security takes one look at Louis and unhooks the rope without a word. The heavy door swings open, then shuts behind us. The noise disappears.
Inside, Diamond is dark and sleek, with crystal chandeliers that cast fractured light across black marble floors. The crowd looks like it walked out of a magazine, all models and actors and athletes mingling near the bar. The music is loud enough to feel but low enough to talk over. No one stares because that’s not how it works here. It’s private, elite, and usually a safe space.
Security nods toward the VIP section, where Patterson is already in a large circular booth with Kendall tucked under his arm. Smiley, Jake, Hunter, Wyatt, and Callan—all friends of my brother’s and players on the Angels hockey team. They’re chatting, laughing, and having a great time.
The crowd parts as we make our way across the room. Everyone here has a Wikipedia page or a trust fund—or both. I recognize an actress from a Netflix series in a corner booth.
Louis’s hand slides from my waist to my hip and pulls me closer. When I look up at him, his gaze is on me.
“If you keep looking at me like that …” I whisper.
