Page 30 of On The Edge

“So you skipped coming home and are now in Amsterdam days before scheduled. No doubt that means more debauchery is in your sights.”

“Yep. You got it. I have a schedule full of it. And oh, look at the time—I’m already late to the start of it.”

And before he can say another word and ruin my mood more, I end the call and toss my phone on the seat beside me. When I look up, Maddix is studying me in the same way she did when we first met. With curiosity and compassion.

One thing I can tolerate.

The other I will not.

CHAPTER NINE

Maddix

“So you don’t have to check in anywhere?” I ask as I follow behind Cruz.

“Team hotel. They’ve already checked in for me. Key is digital.” He raises his phone as if to show me the imaginary key stored on it. “That way I can bypass all that.”

I have to double step to keep up with his pace, his legs eating up the space. “Good. Great.” My brain is foggy from the time difference, and I’m still trying to process everything that Cruz Navarro is.

His judgments.

His opinions.

His declarations.

It’s like I’ve been tasked to fake date a man who suddenly has made it his mission to make me a wild child like he is.

And I’m the furthest thing from a wild child.

What I am is exhausted and overstimulated and desperate for some peace and quiet. As I hurry behind him, all I can think about is falling face first into a comfortable bed—after I strip the comforter off, of course—some black-out shades, and much-needed sleep.

“Here we go,” Cruz says as he opens the door to the room at the very end of the hallway.

I walk past the luggage, which has already been delivered, and my eyes widen to epic proportions as I take in the oversized suite. All I’ve ever heard about European hotels is that they are small and cramped compared to American ones, so I’m astounded to find the space bright and airy with a killer view of downtown Amsterdam.

A king-sized bed fills up the main wall. Its bedding looks more luxurious than anything I’ve ever slept in before. I run my fingers across the desk in the corner as I step toward the windows to get a look of the city I merely caught glimpses of on the way here.

But it’s in the split second in between falling more in love with the view and the door clicking shut that my brain registers the we in Cruz’s statement.

“What do you mean, we?” I ask, eyes narrowed, and turn just in time to see him moving the luggage from the floor to the walk-in closet. Since when does a hotel have walk-in closets?

“Just what I said. We,” he calls over his shoulder. “You okay if I put your bag here?”

“Wait. Hold up. I mean . . .” I stalk to the closet, my mind grasping what’s happening here but not wanting to believe it.

“There you go with your responding in threes again.” He scrubs a hand through his hair and when he looks over at me, it’s sticking up at all different angles. It makes him look like something you want to snuggle into. That’s the last thing I want to do, considering what’s dawning on me.

“Why are you in my room?” I ask.

“Madds, we can’t exactly fake being a couple if you’re in one room and I’m in another.”

“Yes, we can.”

“That’s cute. You do realize my every move is watched every second of every day. Fans know how I take my coffee. They know my drink of choice. They even comment on what fucking socks I’m wearing. So believe me, it’d be noticed if my girlfriend and I were not sleeping in the same room.”

“You’re being—”

“Right on the money?” He flashes that smile of his at me. “Of course, I am. I live this life every day.”