Chapter 12

It took me forever to get home because of the paparazzi hanging around my car, and when I finally managed to inch free of the mob and made it home, there were more waiting for me outside my building. I rounded the last corner and saw them camping out on the sidewalk, so I tightened my grip on my steering wheel and bowed my head but kept my eyes on the road.

Born into one of the old families in the area, the press had been around since the moment I'd taken my first breath. Back then, however, their interest in me hadn't been this intense. Growing up, they'd been there but more in the background than anything else.

Then my parents had died in a helicopter crash, I'd gotten the role on my show, and I'd divorced Ethan Langley. After the crash, the paparazzi had hounded me for months. Until the investigation had finally been concluded and the fervor had died down.

Cue me getting cast on a reality TV show showcasing the daily lives of a dozen LA socialites while they learned to adapt to living in Wichita. The show had become intensely popular, with our seasons earning a position as a cult classic even though the series itself was still running.

Eventually, it'd felt like my time on the small screen had come to an end and I'd left the show to continue with my life. Fresh off Kansas soil, I'd run into Ethan, who I'd known for ages as the charming eldest son of the Langleys, a well-respected family who'd been in town almost as long as my own.

The press had eaten up our love story, hiding in the bushes when we had a date outdoors and photographing every kiss, every touch, and every intimate meal we'd shared. Bets had been placed on when he would pop the question, and at one point, it'd felt like the whole world was waiting with bated breath for him to go down on one knee.

So he had. He'd asked and I'd said yes, and the paparazzi had been there for all of it. We'd become an "it" couple, one that people made memes of and posted as "relationship goals." Little had they known that the gentleman he portrayed himself as to the world vanished as soon as the door shut behind him.

That particular hell had been private, though.

To this day, no one knew the full extent of what he'd put me through, and for that, at least, I was grateful, but the moment I'd served him with divorce papers, the media feeding frenzy had started once more. These days, their interest in me ebbed and flowed, picking up whenever a new rumor surfaced or Ethan was spotted with someone else—which happened a lot. He was kind of a man-slut.

They also liked hounding me for all those answers I'd never given about exactly what had happened behind closed doors during our five-year marriage. Oftentimes, they waited for me outside the office when I left for the day, as had happened today.

That meant it was either a slow day for them or Ethan had done something to garner their attention and they were looking for my reaction to whatever it was. As I parked carefully between the pack of swarming bodies in the parking area, I sighed and tried to gather the courage to climb out of the car.

So many times, I'd asked myself why I insisted on parking outside my building at work instead of always using my spot in the parking lot. I'd wondered why I didn't just keep driving when I got home to this kind of hysteria, but ultimately, I wasn't going to let these people—who were only doing their jobs—turn me into a recluse.

I refused.

It hit too close to home after everything I'd been through with Ethan and I simply wouldn't hide. I wouldn't change my routines or tremble in my heels. They got paid to ask questions and take pictures, and the more I tried to discourage them from doing that, the more interested they became.

I figured that eventually this fervor would die down, too, and I'd be able to live my life for at least a couple years before the next event that would bring them back in full force. Shouldering my bag, I dragged in a deep breath and pulled on the door handle, wishing I could slide my sunglasses on but it was nighttime and I wasn't that girl.

With my head held high, I climbed out of the car and faced them, the people responsible for so much misery branded as entertainment and public interest. Pasting a smile on my face, I started the slow progression to my building while they bombarded me with questions.

"Serenity! Serenity, over here! Is it true that Ethan put you in the hospital? Did he hit you?"

"Serenity! Are you going to be on the revival of the show this summer?"

"Ethan has released a statement saying that you're mentally unstable, is that true?"

"Are you going to be back on our screens in Abram Fox's reality show about life after divorce?"

"Are you pregnant with Ethan's baby? Are you really not going to let him see the child?"

I grated my teeth but kept the smile on my face, turning to address them once I reached the few steps to my door. Bright lights shone in my face and the bombardment continued, but I put my hands together, nodding slightly at them.

"Good night, everyone. Remember not to believe everything you hear. Most of the time, it's not true. There's not always fire where there's smoke."

Giving them a friendly wave, I unlocked the door and retreated into my building, making sure I locked my penthouse behind me before I sagged against it, suddenly exhausted and overwhelmed. It was starting to feel like, this time around, the feeding frenzy was never going to end.

I tried to take it in stride, but I was human, and it was beginning to wear me down. After focusing on my breathing for a minute, I finally pushed away from the door and kicked off my shoes, stripping as I walked to my bathroom and ran a hot bath.

As I climbed into the tub, I promised myself I would leave it all outside. The press. The wedding. Dash. All of it.

Warm water lapped against my shins as I stepped in. It washed over me in gentle waves when I sat down. I didn't even bother putting my hair up on top of my head, just sinking into the water and washing myself, then lying right there until it started getting cold.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed by the time I got out—my skin was wrinkled—and yet, my mind was still racing. Wrapping a thick towel around myself, I padded to my bedroom and got into my pajamas.

I sat down on my bed to put on some lotion. My phone chimed and I fetched it, scoffing when I saw the generic message from Dash. I might've responded if he'd said anything worth responding to, but he hadn't, so I left it, tossing the phone back down and continuing with my routine.

Once I was done, I worked my way through the remainder of the messages and emails I'd received while I'd been soaking in the tub. There were some missed calls and voicemails, and after that question I'd gotten outside about Abram Fox's new show, I wasn't surprised to find a message waiting for me from the man himself.

Apparently, my divorce was "juicy drama" and they were desperately trying to cast me for the show because of it. The other message was from the producer I'd worked with before, another plea asking me to join the revival of my show.

I ignored both of those messages right along with Dash's and climbed into bed. My head hadn't even hit the pillow when I realized it would be a waste of time. There was no way I was going to be able to go straight to sleep after the day I'd had. Instead, I got up again and decided to check over everything I had for Diana's wedding so far.

It was mostly her son keeping me awake, so I figured I should spend the time doing something productive for their family instead. As I headed downstairs, I thought about the biggest problem we'd run into so far.

The music.

She and Richard wanted a band, but finding a good one was proving to be more difficult than I'd expected because of the short timeframe we were working with. Singers and bands were a dime a dozen in this city, yet there were few worth the money they charged for a high-profile wedding.

Sighing, I sat down in front of my laptop in my home office and checked my emails, thinking that at least I had one possibility lined up. But I didn't have an email yet confirming my booking.

My heart started pounding as I navigated to their website, waiting for their calendar to load with my breath trapped in my lungs. When it finally did and all I saw were red blocks, indicating they were booked through the next couple months, I let the oxygen out in a long whoosh.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity, fuck, fuck.

They already had a show that night, and I'd only realized it now. The last few days, I'd been waiting for them to confirm, but nope. I'd made a rookie mistake by not checking their calendar right from the start. Now, I was in trouble.

I couldn't believe it. It had been such a stupid mistake, but I'd made it, and then I'd missed it. My heart slammed against my ribs, my breathing suddenly coming in sharp pants as I wondered how on earth I was going to break the news to Diana.

She was going to think I was a complete flake, and she wouldn't be wrong. Heart going wild, I blindly reached for my phone and called Julie. She had a guy for everything, after all. Maybe she had a guy for this. Maybe she had a great band she could call in a favor with.

"Serenity?" she said when she picked up. "Are you okay? It's pretty late."

"I know, but no, I'm not okay. They're booked, Jules. Another Dimension is already booked for the day of the St. Clair wedding and I only found out about it right now. What do I do? How do I fix it? What?—"

"First, you're going to stop hyperventilating and breathe," she said calmly. "Just breathe for me, babe. You'll find another band and Diana will be okay with it because she's great. Besides, if you only found out now, it was an honest mistake. It'll be fine."

"Not if I can't find another band. I mean, they were only a possibility. They hadn't confirmed yet, obviously, but I pitched them to her as the best option and I was sure they were going to say yes. I can't believe I did this. How did I do this?"

"You've been so busy, you've barely had time to pee. Give yourself a break, my friend. This really isn't the end of the world. It's a band. There are thousands of them out there. It's going to be just fine. Breathe, Serenity. I know you're freaking out, but it's really not the end of the world. Try to look at it objectively."

After a few minutes of coaching me on exactly how I was supposed to breathe, Julie finally managed to calm me down, convincing me that we'd figure this out together. Tomorrow. We spoke for a long time though, meticulously going over every other detail so that I could be sure I hadn't missed anything else. By the time we finally hung up, I was more than ready to go to bed.

My brain was done for the day and so was I. Getting up, I closed my laptop and switched off all the lights on my way to my bedroom. Then I brushed my teeth and went back to my bed.

Once I lay down though, the thoughts of that kiss slammed back into me. It was all I could think about as I lay there in the dark, his passionate kisses and the way his hands had felt on my skin. I tried to shut it off, but it didn't work.

I was obsessing about it like some teenager who had kissed her first crush, but that was ridiculous. I didn't like Mr. Grumpy. It had just been a kiss, right? A kiss, a sex dream, and a constant stream of thoughts about the rudest guy, who was turning out not to be so rude after all.

Shoving a pillow over my face, I groaned into it and shook my head. No. I don't like him. It's just a little crush. At most. Hopefully, it's not even that. It's just lust, right?

Right, now go to sleep, Serenity. Now.