Chapter 5 #2
Leo stands. “My girl here is too nervous to ask, but she wanted to know how you approach writing intimate scenes with multiple partners. How you make it emotional instead of just physical.”
My girl. He said it again. In front of hundreds of people.
Every head turns to look at us. At me.
Isabelle smiles warmly. “That’s a wonderful question. Thank you for asking.” She launches into an answer about emotional connection and trust between characters, and when she finishes, she looks directly at me. “I hope that helps. Come find me at my signing later. I’d love to chat more.”
Oh my God. She wants to talk to me.
The rest of the afternoon blurs together. We wander the convention, and Leo buys me books I hesitate over. We run into Luca surrounded by people wanting photos, but he waves and calls out something that makes Leo laugh and me blush.
Around lunchtime, we find James at the coffee shop reviewing notes. We order sandwiches and sit together like this is normal, like I haven’t known these men for less than twenty-four hours.
“So,” Luca says around a bite of his sandwich. “Tonight.”
Three sets of eyes turn to me.
“What about tonight?” I ask, even though I know.
“Dinner in the suite,” James says. “All of us.”
“We could go out to a restaurant or—”
“Or,” Leo interrupts, “we could get takeaway, eat in the room, and skip straight to dessert.”
The way he says “dessert” makes it very clear what he means. My thighs clench.
Tonight. More of this. More of them.
“Takeaway sounds good,” I manage.
Luca grins. “Thought you might say that.”
“After Isabelle’s signing,” James adds. “We’ll meet back at the suite.”
Leo’s hand finds my thigh under the table and squeezes. “Then we make sure last night wasn’t a fluke, sweetheart.”
Last night wasn’t a fluke. But what happens after tonight? After tomorrow?
Finally, it’s time for Isabelle’s signing. The line is long and my hands are shaking. Leo stays with me, his presence grounding me even as my nerves spike.
“You’ve got this,” he says quietly. “Just be yourself. She’s going to love you.”
When it’s finally my turn, I approach her table with my stack of books, and my throat goes tight. This is Isabelle Stone. The woman whose words got me through my darkest moments. Who made me believe in love again.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Oh god, you’re going to cry.
“Hi!” She looks up and recognition lights her eyes. “You asked the question earlier. Or rather, your boyfriend asked for you.”
“He’s not—we’re not—” I fumble, heat flooding my face. “It’s complicated.”
She grins, warm and genuine. “The best things usually are.” She reaches for my books. “What’s your name?”
“Rebecca. But everyone calls me Bec.”
“Well, Bec, which one should I sign first?”
I hand her Amplified—the one that started it all.
“This one changed everything for me. I read it right after a really bad breakup.” The words start tumbling out before I can stop them.
“My ex told me I needed to grow up, that loving romance novels was embarrassing. He made me feel like wanting grand gestures and real love was asking too much. Like I was too much.”
Like Brett made me feel every single day.
Isabelle’s expression softens, and she reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “Oh honey, he sounds like an idiot.”
“He really was.” I laugh, and it feels freeing. “But your books—the way you write love that’s real and messy and complicated but still worth fighting for—it made me believe I deserved that. That wanting more wasn’t childish.”
She blinks rapidly, and I realize her eyes are shining. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me about my work.”
“I mean every word. Your books changed my life.” I gesture to where Leo’s waiting a few feet away, giving us space but watching with soft eyes. “Actually, they kind of gave me the courage to say yes to something I never would have before.”
“The complicated situation?” she asks with a knowing smile.
“Very complicated. And very worth it.”
She signs each of my books, taking her time to personalize every single one. When she hands them back, she squeezes my hand again.
“Thank you, Bec. For reading. For caring. For being brave enough to want more and to take it when it showed up.” She glances at Leo. “And for the record? That man looks at you like you hung the moon. Complicated or not, that’s something special.”
My throat is tight as I clutch my signed books. “Thank you. For everything. For writing stories that matter.”
“Keep being brave,” she says softly. “Keep saying yes to the big, messy, complicated love. That’s where the best stories are.”
Keep being brave. But what if brave means admitting I don’t want this to end?
As I walk away clutching my signed books, James appears beside me. “How did it go?”
“Perfect. She was perfect.” I look at him. “Thank you for the pass. For making this possible.”
“My pleasure, love.” He checks his watch. “Ready to head back?”
Leo and Luca are waiting by the exit, both grinning at me.
“So how was it meeting Isabelle?” Luca asks, pulling me into a hug.
“Amazing. She signed all my books and told me to keep being brave.”
“Good advice,” Leo says, taking my hand. His fingers lace through mine with easy confidence. “Now let’s get out of here. I’ve been patient all day. Done with being patient.”
We head for the elevators together, and people stare, but I don’t care anymore. Let them look, let them wonder.
The elevator doors close around us, and Leo pulls me against his chest. His hand slides into my hair, tilting my face up to his.
“Still good?” he asks softly. “Not overwhelmed?”
I think about last night. About this morning. About the way all three of them have made me feel today. Wanted, protected, cherished. About the fact that I said “only for tonight” but I’m already dreading tomorrow when this ends.
I don’t want tomorrow. I don’t want this to end.
“I’m good,” I say, and mostly I mean it. “Just don’t want today to be over yet.”
Something flashes in Leo’s eyes—relief, maybe, or hope. “It’s not over, sweetheart. We’ve still got all night.”
All night. But what about after that?
I push the thought away. Tomorrow can wait. Tonight is what matters.
“Good,” I whisper. “Because I’m not done with you three yet.”
His smile is slow and devastating. “That’s what I like to hear.”
And as the elevator climbs toward the penthouse, I let myself have this. Whatever comes next can wait until tomorrow.