9. Nine
Nine
Nate
I catch my reflection in the mirror—dark jeans and a black button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It’ll have to do.
“You clean up nice.”
I turn to find Lacey in the doorway, and my breath catches. She’s wearing a simple black dress that hugs every curve, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. The dress shows just enough skin to be tempting without being obvious.
“You’re staring,” she says softly.
“Can’t help it.” The words come out rougher than intended.
A slight blush colors her cheeks, but she holds my gaze. We haven’t talked about the kiss. Haven’t acknowledged how she fled upstairs or how I spent half the night pacing on the deck, trying to get the intoxicating taste of her off my lips.
“Ready?” she asks, and we both know she’s not just talking about the party.
I grab my keys. “As I’ll ever be.”
The drive to the Riverside is quiet, charged with everything we’re not saying. Lacey fidgets with her phone, and I try to focus on the road instead of the way her dress rides up when she crosses her legs.
“So,” she finally breaks the silence, “what’s our game plan?”
“Be ourselves.” At her raised eyebrow, I clarify, “The version of ourselves that’s madly in love.”
“Right.” She looks out the window. “Should be easy enough.”
The thing is, it is easy. Too easy. Playing the devoted fiancé doesn’t feel like acting anymore, and that’s exactly the problem.
We pull up to the hotel, and I hand my keys to the valet. Before we head inside, I catch Lacey’s hand, pulling her close.
“Hey.” I wait until she meets my eyes. “Everything alright with you?”
She squeezes my hand. “Perfect. Let’s give them a show.”
The moment we step into the hotel’s garden terrace, all eyes turn to us. Lacey fits herself against my side as if she belongs there, and I slip my arm around her waist, thumb brushing the bare skin exposed by her dress.
I feel her slight shiver and have to remind myself this is all for show.
As we make our way through the crowd, I can’t help thinking that I should be used to this by now—the flashing cameras, the low hum of conversation as people continue to sneak glances at me, the weight of public expectation. But tonight? Tonight, everything feels different.
Maybe it’s the setting. The Riverside Hotel is one of those old-money, dimly lit places with soft jazz playing in the background. The rooftop terrace has a pool, and the view of the cityscape is magnificent at night. It’s the kind of place where secrets are whispered over glasses of top-shelf whiskey and romance lingers in the air like perfume.
Or maybe it’s her.
My eyes land on Lacey as she steps ahead of me, noticing how her black dress hugs her in all the right places. She’s effortless, graceful, and confident, like she was born for this world of spotlights and carefully curated attention. But there’s something else, too—something that makes my pulse tick a little harder.
She’s not just playing a part tonight. She’s at ease.
And damn, if that doesn’t make it even harder to remember, this is all a game.
She glances over her shoulder, her dark eyes catching mine as she offers me a slow, knowing smile.
“You’re staring again,” she teases, her voice low enough that only I can hear.
“Maybe I like what I see,” I murmur, letting my fingers brush the small of her back as I reach her side.
Her eyes darken. Just slightly. But I catch it.
And yeah, I might be playing a role, but the way she reacts to my touch? Her reactions are real.
“There they are!” Cass calls out, raising his glass. “Hollywood’s hottest couple!”
Lacey laughs, the sound genuine and warm. “Pretty sure that’s you and Kendrick.”
“Thank you,” Kendrick says, coming over to give her a warm hug. “Cass should have said the hottest ‘new’ couple. I thought I had him trained better than that.”
As we stand with the other band members, I introduce Lacey to some industry reps. The place is crowded with people—some faces I recognize and others I don’t. Lacey charms everyone she meets, her hand never leaving mine, while I try not to focus on how natural this feels.
“Would you care to dance?” I ask politely during a lull in conversations. And she smiles, tugging me toward where other couples are swaying to the live band.
“I’m a drummer,” I remind her. “We’re not known for our grace.”
Her smile is teasing. “I’m sure you have an excellent sense of rhythm.”
She leads me to the dance floor, and when she wraps her arms around my neck, pressing close, I forget my excuses. My hands automatically find her waist, and we move together like we’ve done this a thousand times.
“See?” she murmurs. “You’re not so bad.”
The lights are low, the music soft, and she feels perfect in my arms. I could blame the alcohol for how unsteady I feel, but I know it’s all her.
The band shifts into something slower, more intimate. Something with a beat that pulses like a heartbeat, and Lacey moves with it, her body swaying against mine. Her fingers toy with the hair at the nape of my neck, and I have to stifle a groan.
The lights are low, casting everything in soft shadows. She smells like vanilla and something floral, and when she presses closer to my chest, it takes everything in me not to react to her nearness.
My hands tighten on her waist as we move together, and I can feel her pulse racing beneath my fingers. She fits against me like she was made to be there, and I’m finding it harder to remember we haven’t known each other for very long.
“Everyone’s watching us,” she says softly, tilting her head back.
“Let them watch.”
Her breath catches as I pull her even closer, knowing I’m playing with fire but unable to stop. The music wraps around us like silk, and for these few minutes, nothing exists beyond this dance floor, beyond the feel of her in my arms.
When she looks up at me, her eyes are dark, and her lips slightly parted. I remember how those lips felt against mine, how she tasted, how she—
“Mind if I cut in?” Vince’s abrupt voice breaks through the moment. “Since you’re practically family now, Monroe.”
Lacey blinks like she’s coming out of a trance. Then she smiles, all actress grace. “Sure. But watch your hands, Savage. My fiancé‘s right here.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Vince says, but he winks at me as I reluctantly let her go. Damn him.
I step back, jaw tight, watching as he spins her once before settling a questionable distance away from her. Close enough to annoy me but not so close that I can justifiably rip him away.
I fold my arms as I watch them dance, the way she laughs at whatever Vince is saying, and try to ignore the ache in my chest. Try to forget how right she felt in my arms.
Cass steps up beside me, sipping his drink. “You look like you’re trying real hard not to deck him.”
I exhale through my nose. “He’s pushing it.”
Cass chuckles. “Vince pushes everyone.”
“Yeah, well. That doesn’t make it any less aggravating.”
One song later, Vince twirls Lacey dramatically before finally, mercifully, bringing her back.
I don’t miss the way her chest rises and falls, just a little faster than before, or how her cheeks are flushed from the dance.
Vince releases her, then grins like the devil himself as he practically drops her into my arms.
“She’s all yours, lover boy,” he says, clapping me on the back. “It was nice of you to bring her along, even if you don’t like sharing.”
I frown, slipping an arm around Lacey’s waist, pulling her possessively against my side. “Figured it was time to make a public appearance together. You know, give the public what they want.”
Vince snorts, picking up a glass of champagne. “And what do they want, exactly? Picture-perfect romance?”
Lacey tilts her head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Jealous, Vince?”
Vince raises a brow, then turns giving me a slow, deliberate once-over, like he’s assessing me, as he shakes his head. “I don’t know, Lacey. Nate’s a decent catch, but I think you could do better.”
Lacey laughs, full and genuine, and leans into me just slightly. “I don’t happen to agree.”
I feel her warmth against my side, the way her body moves naturally with mine, and for a second, I forget that this is just pretend—an act for the crowd to help our career—that we’re playing a temporary part.
After a couple of hours, the party starts to feel too loud, too crowded. I need air.
I find a quiet spot away from the noise, the city lights sprawling beneath me, and lean against the railing. The night is warm, a gentle breeze rolling in off the river, and for the first time all evening, my head starts to clear.
Until she finds me.
“You disappeared,” Lacey says, quietly stepping up beside me.
I glance at her, noticing how the city lights reflect in her dark eyes. “I needed a break.”
She hums, resting her forearms on the railing as she gazes out at the skyline. “Yeah. It’s a lot, isn’t it?”
I study her profile—the soft curve of her jaw, the slant of her nose, the way her lips part just slightly as she exhales.
“It can get overwhelming after a while,” she admits softly.
I nod slowly. “Yes, it can.”
She turns her head toward me, searching my face. “And now?”
Now? Now, I don’t know how the hell to separate reality from whatever this is turning into.
I take a sip of my drink, stalling. “I think I’ll survive.”
Her lips curve. “Tough guy.”
“You sound surprised.”
She shakes her head, her smile softening. “Not surprised. Just... noticing things.”
“Like what?”
Her gaze lingers on mine, something unreadable in her expression.
“You’re different when you’re away from the spotlight.”
Something in my chest tightens.
I should say something light, something that doesn’t acknowledge what she just said—because she’s right.
But before I can respond, her fingers brush against mine on the railing.
It’s nothing, yet at the same time—it’s everything.
Her touch lingers just long enough to make my breath hitch.
Just long enough to make me wonder—If I kissed her now, would it feel like a lie? Or would it feel like it did last night? This is exactly why we’re not talking about that kiss. Because once we start, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.
Behind us, someone drops a glass, and it shatters the moment.
The sound of breaking glass fades into the background noise, but the moment has shifted. I turn to face her fully, knowing what I’m about to say might cross a line we shouldn’t be crossing.
“You know,” I say, keeping my voice casual even though my heart is racing, “people are going to ask about our first time together.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Our first...?”
“We should have a story ready.” I step closer, watching the way her breath catches. “Something believable. Intimate.”
The flush spreading across her cheeks is visible even in the dim light. “You think we need to discuss that now?”
“Better to be prepared.” I brush my thumb across her bare shoulder, feeling her shiver. “Unless you’d rather improvise?”
She meets my gaze, and for a moment, I see something raw and wanting in her eyes. Then she straightens, putting a slight distance between us.
“I think,” she says carefully, “that’s a conversation for another time.”
But her voice trembles slightly, and I know she’s thinking about last night’s kiss just as much as I am.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” I let my hand drop, but I don’t miss the way she sways toward me before catching herself. “But sooner or later, we’ll need to talk about it.”
She turns back toward the party, but not before I catch the heat in her eyes. “We should get back.”
I watch her walk away, knowing one thing for certain: this game we’re playing just got a lot more dangerous.