I can’t move. My pulse roars in my ears, my body locked in place.
She did it.
And Christ she was magnificent.
My phone vibrates against my thigh. No doubt a text from Liam wondering why I’ve missed our daily debrief.I silence it. He doesn’t need to know where I am. No one does.
The crowd starts to thin as people flood toward the exit or the reception area, hoping to corner one of the student designers for a quick handshake or a business card. I stand too, tugging at my collar, trying to look like I belong among the buyers and critics. But my attention is locked on that far corner where the curtain leads behind the stage.
I shouldn’t. Every instinct tells me to walk away. I’ve risked enough just being here. I should get in my car, drive back to Turin, and pretend this never happened. But then the curtain shifts and I catch a glimpse of her—hair swept up, cheeks flushed, laughing at something one of her classmates said—and the decision’s made before I can think.
I move toward her.
A security guard stops me at the hallway entrance, palm up. “Backstage access is for staff and participants only, sir.”
I manage a polite smile, the one that usually gets me through doors I’m not supposed to walk through. “My girlfriend’s one of the designers,” I lie easily. “I just want to congratulate her.”
He hesitates, eyes flicking toward the lineup of students still being photographed. I catch another flash of her dress, that silk whispering against her skin as she leans in to hug someone, and my throat goes dry.
“Make it quick,” the guard mutters.
I slip past before he can change his mind.
The noise is softer back here, muffled laughter and the rustle of fabric. She’s half-turned away from me, fixing a pin in her hair while Jamie chatters beside her. There’s a moment where I could stop. Walk away before she looks up. Pretend I was never here.
But then she turns, and there’s no way in hell I’m going anywhere.
Her smile freezes, eyes going wide. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. It’s like the world narrows to the two of us, the smell of hairspray and perfume suspended in the air between us.
“Matt,” she breathes, taking a step towards me.
“Hey, baby.” My voice comes out rough, too low. “You were incredible out there.”
She blinks, the shock hardening into something sharper. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.” I step closer anyway, because I can’t help it. “But I needed to be.”
Her chin lifts—defiant, proud, everything I’ve missed. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Completely,” I admit. “But I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I missed this.”
Her gaze flickers down my chest, lingering just a second before she catches herself and looks away. “You shouldn’t have come,” she says again, quieter this time.
“I know,” I whisper. “But you looked up and saw me, didn’t you?”
She swallows. “Yeah.”
“Then it was worth it.”
A shout from the other side of the curtain breaks the moment—someone calling for Jamie—and Lily steps back, putting distance between us before anyone sees. But even as she turns away, I can still feel the heat of her body in the air, the ghost of her perfume clinging to me like a brand.
I’ve risked everything for a handful of stolen minutes, and I’d do it again.
Chapter 38
The second he says it was worth it, my pulse spikes so hard it drowns out the noise around us. Matt is standing backstage like he owns the place. Like his mere presence here isn’t risking months of undercover digging, years of hunting for answers. It’s so stupidly Matt that I want to scream and shake some sense into him, and yet at the same time, a knot wedges its way at the back of my throat.
Before I can speak, Isabella’s voice cuts in, bright and breathless. “Lily! The judges loved your piece. Did youseethem? They couldn’t take their eyes off you. You’re going to get the best write-up, just wait.”
