But he belongs with me. He’smine.
This is about possession. This is about not wanting anyone else to have him because my heart, my body, my mind, my everything decided a long, long time ago that Ari is mine.
My phone is in my hand before I fully realize what I’m doing.
I tell myself it’s an innocent prank. A harmless irritation. A little noise to break up the cozy romantic bubble. Something I cansave him from and take him upstairs with me where he’s safe and not being touched by Alonso Carter.
There’s some hesitation before I send the first anonymous tip. But the second one is easier. It gets easier and my plan makes more sense the deeper into it I go, even sending a grainy photo of the side of Alonso’s face, along with some speculation about who he’s with. I possibly hint at the wrong band member, because I know Jesse’s name will pull more attention.
I’m just creating a tiny distraction. The consequences or just how completely insane this is don’t really occur to me. Or maybe they do, and I ignore them.
Things go south pretty quickly. The news spreads faster than I thought possible, and madness takes over.
First, it’s whatever paparazzi were closest when the alert went out. They walk casually through the lobby and into the hotel bar, snapping photos at everyone there until they find their target.
Alonso’s security jumps up to block the cameras, and I watch as Alonso pulls Ari to the ground behind their table to protect him.
He’s protecting him.And I’m the one that caused this shit.
My eyes track Ari’s reaction. I see his smile fall as confusion flashes over his features, then fear when the shouting starts.
Thank fuck Eric is sitting near the bar entryway when it starts. He springs into action and blocks the doors, ushering people out as Alonso’s security team and the two bartenders clear out everyone who isn’t staying in the hotel. There’s yelling as a bunch of obnoxious tabloid reporters flood the lobby.
News vans and bystanders with cell phone cameras are next, all scrambling to take pictures through the glass doors. Thenit’s the fans. Not just any fans—rabid fans that don’t give a fuck about boundaries as long as they can touch the object of their obsession.
Eric, Alonso’s three security guys, and a mix of hotel staff and security try to get the crowd under control. The doors bow with the weight of people pushing against them, two security guys in front of the door to hold them back, and Eric barricading the door from the inside.
This is bad.
In a matter of minutes, the hotel is swarmed by a full-out mob. There might be three people out there that actually saw anything, but they’re still rabid. Alonso’s name is shouted, and I think I hear Ari’s name, too. But it’s Jesse’s name they’re chanting.
I look over at Ari again, now shaking in Alonso’s arms.
Fuck.
Not only did I stir up some shit, but I pushed him right where I didn’t want him to be.
More than that, he’s really scared.
I did that to him.And that feels even shitier than imagining him in bed with Alonso.
Without ever making a conscious decision to cross the room, I’m at Ari’s side in an instant. I’m incapable of not comforting him when he looks like that—the same way he looks when he’s having a night terror. Never mind that someone might question that I’ve been here all along. Nothing matters but him.
If he or Alonso think twice about me appearing out of nowhere, they don’t say anything or react.
The moment I drop to his side, Ari makes a choking sound and throws himself in my arms. Alonso gives me a quick bewildered look, but when a manager unlocks a back door, I don’t hesitate to lift Ari into my arms and run out of there.
Zane has a car idling, and I slide into the backseat, still holding Ari, and shut the door. In a moment of clarity, I look over to see that Alonso is being safely shuffled to his own waiting vehicle. He locks eyes with me and gives me a nod, as if to say he’s glad I’m getting Ari out of there.
Eric slides into the seat next to me and slams the door shut just before the car peels out of the alleyway and into the after-hours New York traffic.
The phone rings and Zane puts Blake on speaker.
“Is everyone safe?”
“Yes, sir,” Zane answers. “You’re on speaker and we’re on the road as we speak. Mr. Silvan and Mr. Kessler are secure.”
There’s a sigh of relief on the other end of the line, and I hear Jesse and Naz in the background, asking questions. I block out the rest of the conversation, the details about where we’re meeting and how we’re getting there, going in one ear and out the other. My mind spins with the magnitude of the chaos I caused. Guilt eats me from the inside as I hold onto Ari, who seems much calmer than I’m feeling right now. He’s got his phone out, texting the group chat that Jesse and Naz are blowing up. My phone hasn’t stopped vibrating since shortly after the commotion started.
