“Yes, you.” he said, like it was obvious. “The same you who nearly broke the inte with one kiss and a music video cameo. Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long”


    I blinked. “But I didn’t sign up for any of this,” I mumbled.


    Jay tilted his head. “Life did, sweetheart. You just walked into the room. Em, you don’t just need a manager. You needed one yesterday.”


    “But I want to go back to school after summer. Quietly. Resume <b>my </b>little <b>life</b>”


    Jay snorted so hard he choked on his drink. “You think you’re going back to ‘quietly? Girl. you’re with Liam ck. That automatically makes you <b>front</b>–page news and everyone’s favorite obsession.”


    His phone rang. He nced at the screen, grimaced. “Studio’s calling. I gotta bounce But listen, we’ll n this. Together. We’ll figure out how to handle all of it. The right way”


    I watched him leave, heart pounding. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I clung to the one thing that always grounded me: food. Specifically, making it.


    I headed to the store, mentally scrolling through recipes. Maybe a simple pasta dish. Something cozy. Something that made me feel warm.


    Inside the store, I grabbed a basket and moved quickly, hoping no one would recognize me But people did. Whispers buzzed behind shelves. Phones tilted subtly in my direction <fn3fd5> This text is hosted at FιndNovel</fn3fd5>


    I felt eyes on me.


    Someone snapped a photo. I saw the sh. Heard the hush turn into excitement


    I clutched my basket tighter. This couldn’t be happening over vegetables.


    Abandoning my half–full cart, I made a beeline for the checkout, paid for the basics, and rushed toward the exit. The second I stepped outside, a wall of shing cameras and shouting voices met me.


    “Emily! Is it true you’re dating Liam ck?”


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    “What about Mason?”


    “Are you a gold digger?”


    I froze. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Every exit was blocked by lenses.


    A hand slipped around my shoulder.


    “Let her through,” a smooth, firm voicemanded.


    Kelvin.


    He led me through the crowd with practiced ease, keeping his arm up to block the shes aimed at my face. When we reached my car, he opened the door, and I slipped inside without saying a word.


    Inside the car, I exhaled, heart still sprinting.


    “Thanks,” I said.


    He pulled off his sunsses. “So you’re officially famous. Wee. You’re the only woman I know in LA who’s upset about it.”


    ??


    “I didn’t ask for this. I went to buy tomatoes. That’s it.”


    Heughed under his breath, clearly amused.


    “When did you get back to the States?”


    “Three days ago. Been settling in.”


    I rxed slightly. “Well… wee back.”


    He nced at me sideways. “Remember what I told you in St. Barts?”


    I blinked. “No?”


    “I told you I’ming to woo you.”


    I groaned. “Kelvin, please,”


    “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re with Liam. But unless there’s a ring or a marriage license, I’m still free to shoot my shot.”


    Before I could respond, he shot me azy grin, unbuckled, and stepped out with all the


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    swagger in the world.


    “Bye, superstar,” he said, shutting the door with a wink.


    I rolled my eyes, waited until he disappeared inside, then shifted gears and pulled out of the lot, heading back to Liam’s.


    –


    The kitchen weed me with its familiar silence. Cooking helped. It slowed my pulse. I chopped, stirred, and ted like it was therapy.


    Just as I finished setting the food down, my phone buzzed again.


    I stared at it.


    Paranoid.


    But I picked it up.


    Liam had sent me a photo.


    It was from earlier. Me and Kelvin outside the store. His hand on my shoulder. My face mid- blink. The caption?


    “Apparently, I wasn’t clear enoughst time.”


    Then another text:


    “Don’t worry. I’ll fix that. Permanently.”


    My stomach flipped.


    Fix what?


    What did he mean by permanently?


    The first delivery arrived just after noon.


    I was still in Liam’s house robe, flipping through TV channels like a bored house cat, when the doorbell rang. The housekeeper handed me a sleek, matte ck package with my name etched in silver cursive across the top.


    Inside the box? A crimson dress–silk, scandalous, sculpted like a second skin. My breath


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    hitched as I lifted it from the folds. It was unapologetically sensual, unmistakably expensive Liam ck didn’t just pick a dress. Hemissioned temptation itself.


    Tucked inside was a single note:


    “Dinner. 8 PM. Wear this.”


    I shook my head, already smiling like a fool. I should’ve known he wasn’t done making statements.


    Then came the second delivery.


    This time, a bouquet of red roses so deep in color they looked almost ck under the light. The scent was intoxicating, wild. My phone buzzed just as I pressed the petals to my nose.


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