Chapter 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

NOLAN

W hen Amber calls to tell me that she wants Maddy and I to hang back at the hotel, she sounds calm. When Mina relays why Amber doesn't want us at the arena, I'm not calm. The urge to rush to Amber's side to assure myself she's safe is highly impractical. What do I think I can do to protect her that her security can't?

To reassure myself that she will be fine, I call my father because I know he'll be able to give me some perspective.

He delivers on the perspective, but he also gives me a heavy dose of advice on how to properly date a superstar. He isn't particularly impressed when I tell him that I intend to stay out of sight as much as possible. He doesn't understand why I don't want to be in front of the camera. It's as foreign a concept to him as buying one's own groceries.

I'm anxious the rest of the day and into the evening, and when Amber finally gets back to the hotel, she lets me give her a crushing hug before she asks me to watch the interview footage. I'm relieved to note that I appear less uncomfortable than I felt, and that Amber and I don't look ridiculous together. By the time it's over, I'm feeling surprisingly positive about the whole experience. Especially since I shouldn't have to sit down with a reporter again anytime soon.

It airs on Monday during primetime. There's no reason for us to watch it again, so we don't. Instead, Amber gives Mina the night off and we order food, play with Maddy and then settle on the couch together once she's asleep.

Amber's feet are in my lap and I'm rubbing the right one with my thumb when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I consider ignoring it, but there are only a few people who might be calling, so I pull it out and swipe to answer. "Dad."

"Did you watch it? How are you holding up?" he asks.

"We'd already seen it. I'm good. Everything is good."

"Is it?" He sounds doubtful.

"Yes," I respond firmly. Since I called him on Saturday afternoon, he's been relentless in offering support and suggestions, texting me and calling me constantly.

"What do you need?" he asks. "Do you need to take a break from the tour? Do you need your own security? A vacation? Or do you need me to do something outlandish? I can steal the news cycle if you want—just say the word."

I groan, unwilling to even ask what he'd do to steal the news cycle. "I don't need anything."

"You need something."

"I don't." Amber and I decided to let Brian and her PR team handle the post interview social media so for tonight we have nothing to do but relax.

"Do you want me to kidnap Teddy Lance?" he asks.

"What?" I practically fall off the sofa I straighten so quickly.

Amber reaches out to steady me. "Everything okay?" she mouths silently as he says, "I could do it. I play action heroes. My characters have staged at least a dozen kidnappings over the years, and I'm almost certain I could pull it off. It's all about speed and distraction."

I shake my head rapidly. "What? No. You cannot kidnap Teddy."

Amber's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline.

"I'm just saying, if Teddy disappeared for a few days, it would take the heat off of you and Amber."

"No," I say forcefully, taking Amber's hand in mine.

He sighs. "Have you been tracking the fallout? It's only been an hour and the tabloids are already running with the story. The trolls are out in full force. They aren't going to stop unless they have something to distract them."

"I don't care what trolls are saying about my relationship." If we avoid reading what they say altogether, their words can't hurt us.

He sighs again. "Nolan, you're being na?ve. This stuff matters."

I hate that he gives gossip such power. "Amber knows what she's doing. She has an entire team of people at her disposal, and they're all working on protecting her brand. I don't have a brand to protect, so I'm going to let her do whatever she needs to do, but otherwise, I'm not going to worry about it."

Amber nods slowly as I speak.

"I know what I'm doing, too," he argues. "And you need to?—"

"Stop. I appreciate your support, but we're good." Maybe if I say it often enough, he'll believe me.

"Are you at least laying low?"

"Of course. We have the top floor of the hotel to ourselves. Amber's off until Thursday, and then she has three shows. After that, we're heading to Chicago where we're renting a private residence and meeting up with Teddy. He'll stay with us through Wednesday evening?—"

"Are you joking? Teddy Lance is staying with you?"

"He's Maddy's father."

"Are you having threesomes?"

Is he kidding? "What? No." Is it possible to use that word more frequently in a single conversation?

"What's wrong with threesomes?" he asks.

"Nothing." I groan. "Please stop."

He chuckles. "Sorry. I was trying to distract you."

"Consider me distracted. But no more sex talk. Please."

"Fine. Fine. I thought maybe I could come to one of Amber's shows this weekend or next."

"I appreciate the offer, but we need less media coverage. Not more. You don't know how to blend in."

"My presence would divert some of the attention away from you."

"Don't you dare do something to divert attention. I already told you no," I scold him. It's the only option left. He needs clear boundaries, or he'll ignore me completely.

"Fine." He could not sound more disappointed. "What about one of your brothers? Maybe Nicky?"

"What about him?"

"Would it be okay if he visited?"

"He's busy with work." We've both been so busy that we've hardly spoken lately.

"If you asked him, I bet he would make time." He pauses. "Listen, I know you're fine and I promise this is the last thing I'm going to say about this." I brace myself, but he surprises me. "You're surrounded by people who are there for Amber. They'll listen to her, and they'll protect her, but that doesn't mean they'll protect you. Pay attention, okay? And trust your instincts. Don't let anyone convince you to do anything you don't want to."

He always hits me with concern when I least expect it. "I will."

"I'm proud of you."

I might be an adult but hearing him say that never gets old. "Thanks, Dad. Love you."

I click off after he says it back and toss my phone on the sofa.

Amber raises her eyebrows expectantly, so I try to make a joke. "I think I convinced him that kidnapping is out."

She doesn't laugh, just searches my face and then leans forward and brushes her lips against mine. "Do you think he'd actually do it?"

I grimace. "Probably, but not without my blessing."

"That'd be a nightmare." Her hands tighten on my shoulders. "And not helpful."

She's worried. Not that I blame her. "He isn't going to kidnap Teddy. I'll make sure of it."

"Okay. He must be really worried about the fallout from the interview." She pauses. "Is it that bad?"

"He tends to be dramatic so it's probably not as dire as he makes it out to be. Do you want to check in with Brian?"

She considers it for a second. "No. He'll contact me if he needs something." She presses her lips together. "I can get a bit obsessive about what is being said about me. There are plenty of people who think my music is trash and that I'm fake. It's easy to get sucked into."

She's quite good at keeping it under control because I've never witnessed her obsessing about it. "That's why you hire people to handle it for you. Right?"

"Partly. I'd need a team regardless, but I also have them curate what I see."

I smile and pull her into my chest. "That's smart. I'm sorry if his call stressed you out. He wants to help, but his way of handling gossip is to feed it or deflect it. He doesn't understand that I don't want to do either."

She presses her nose into my neck. "You really don't care about what they're saying?"

"I don't know what they're saying, and I don't have the urge to find out. It'll be better if I don't know."

"I appreciate that you aren't obsessed about it. It makes it easier for me to ignore."

"I bet I can come up with something else we can do to help distract you."

It's a cheesy line, but she laughs softly and lifts her head. I tunnel my hands into her hair and press my lips to hers. She sinks into the kiss, her body melding with mine, and we slowly go from comforting to desperate.

We shed our clothes until we're skin to skin.

I fumble in my pocket for a condom—I've taken to carrying them around with me—and once I'm sheathed, she sinks onto me.

The heat in her eyes transfixes me as she starts to move. Her hips lift and fall in a steady motion. Neither of us blink. Our gazes are connected by an invisible tether—it's emotional as much as it's physical. My hands become almost frantic—skimming her breasts, flicking her nipples, gripping her hips. Her skin is silky smooth and I want to touch her everywhere.

Her fingers tighten on my shoulders when I reach between us and her breath hitches when I gently graze the bundle of nerves that concentrates her pleasure. Her head drops back, and her movements still. She stays like that, with me buried deep inside of her. Every time I skim the spot, her body grips me tighter, and she whimpers.

It's insanely difficult to keep my touch gentle, but I know that's what she likes, and I want her to unravel. I want to feel her body clench around me, and I want her pleasure to be what spurs mine.

The motion of my fingers is almost a dance—slow and steady with the anticipation building. Her thighs quiver, her back arches, and her body tenses. She comes with a low moan. I grab her hips and rock her against me. Once. Twice. And then, I'm coming, too, filling the condom while I cling to her.

She sinks against my chest, our skin sticking together, as our breathing slows.

It feels like I claimed her.

Or she claimed me.

I can never quite tell, and it doesn't particularly matter, because we're together, and all the things that have the potential to affect us are irrelevant when it's just the two of us.

I feel her smile against my neck. "Want to go to bed?"

I agree, then kiss her softly and pull her to her feet.