Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The ballroom buzzed with energy, champagne flowing as freely as the congratulations for Giovanni’s success. Kennedi had arrived early, needing the buffer of work to steady herself. Since the studio yesterday, Rolani had taken up residence in parts of her brain she hadn’t authorized.
She’d spent the afternoon in her hotel room rewatching the footage Derek captured, telling herself it was quality control.
She watched his B-roll four times. Professional review didn’t require four viewings of a man walking through a set, but she kept finding new angles to examine. New details she’d missed.
Then he walked in dressed in all black. Tailored slacks, a black button-up open at the collar, locs hanging loose past his shoulders. The crowd shifted when he stepped through the door. He started with a dap and a hug for Giovanni, then hugged Paige, laughing at something Brooks said.
But even from across the room, Kennedi felt it. That pull. It made her stop mid-conversation with a producer whose name she’d already forgotten.
Yesterday, he’d been in a black tee and Jordans, paint on his fingertips, sitting on a stool in a fake garage. Tonight, he looked built to ruin the evening she’d planned.
The tailored clothes confirmed what the tee and jeans had already told her. He looked good in everything. He’d probably look good in nothing.
Their eyes met. He didn’t acknowledge anyone else after that, not the people trying to shake his hand, not the conversations around him.
Just her. His thumb slowly dragged across his bottom lip, a subtle gesture she almost missed.
Almost. Having spent ten years reading people for a living, cataloging what they did when they thought no one was paying attention, she instantly understood.
That small movement told her everything—he’d been thinking about her too.
The smile he gave her wasn't the smirk from the plane or the grin from the studio. He’d clearly spent the day wondering whether the premiere version of her would hit as hard as the studio version. Judging by that smile, he had his answer.
She broke eye contact first, turning back to her interview with shaky hands. Work. She was here for work. She had a job to do. But her voice sounded foreign to her own ears as she asked questions she’d prepared days ago.
The rest of the night went on the same way. Every time she turned around, he was there—not hovering or crowding, just present.
At one point, she caught a trace of his cologne drifting through the crowd. Her stomach dipped, her shoulders relaxed, and she closed her eyes for half a second.
She was halfway to the balcony, needing air, when a hand settled on the small of her back.
“Kennedi Walters, right?”
“Yes, that’s me.” She stepped to the side, creating space, but his hand stayed pressed against her lower back as if they’d arrived together. “David?”
He was one of the network executives Giovanni had introduced her to when they arrived.
His cologne was overpowering, his smile too familiar for someone who didn’t know her.
She knew this game. Had played it before in newsrooms and conferences, where saying no too directly could cost her professionally.
“I’ve been following your work. Through Ken’s Lens is impressive.” He leaned in, voice lowering. “I think we should talk about some opportunities. Privately. Maybe after the event?”
Her stomach turned. “I appreciate that, but tonight isn't the time.” She reached into her clutch, pulled out a business card, and placed it in his hand, although she never had any intention of talking to him. “My information is on there. Feel free to reach out.”
David studied the card for a moment, as if she’d handed him a consolation prize. His smile didn’t falter, but his hand tightened around it before he pocketed it. “Of course. Just thought I’d offer.” His fingers grazed her waist as he stepped back. “You look beautiful, by the way.”
He walked away, and Kennedi exhaled deeply.
The sensation of his touch stayed on her skin, something she desperately wanted to wash away.
The difference between that hand and the one that had almost grabbed her at the studio door yesterday was stark enough to cut.
Rolani had pulled back, giving her space she hadn’t asked for because he had already decided she was worth waiting for.
David, on the other hand, touched her as if she owed him that closeness.
“Eww,” she murmured.
When she looked up, Rolani was no longer across the room. He was closer now, leaning against a pillar with his drink, watching David walk away as if the man existed purely for his amusement.
David must have felt the stare because he glanced over his shoulder.
Rolani raised his hand, pointed his finger like a gun, and fired.
Then winked.
David’s step faltered. He turned back around and kept walking.
Kennedi's mouth fell open. This man had just air-gunned a network executive at his own premiere party. The audacity was so reckless it wrapped all the way around to attractive, and she hated herself for that conclusion.
Their eyes met. He tilted his head slightly, the amusement draining from his face. He’d seen all of it — David’s hand on her back, his fingers on her waist, the business card she'd used as a polite dismissal.
Kennedi shook her head once. I'm fine. Don't. He held her gaze, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek before he dropped his shoulders and rolled his neck. He heard her. She just wasn't sure he agreed.
The night moved on. Speeches wrapped. The executives filtered out. The lights dimmed, and the music got louder, shifting the energy from professional to celebratory.
“Finally,” Paige said, grabbing Kennedi’s hand. “Come on, we’re dancing.”
Kennedi let herself be pulled toward the dance floor. The champagne buzz made it easier to let go, to stop overthinking and just be. Blake, Taylor, Spirit, and Paige surrounded her, and when “Back That Thang Up” hit, the dance floor erupted.
“Oh shit, this my song!” Taylor yelled.
Spirit grabbed Kennedi’s hand and spun her around. “Come on, Ken! Show these LA girls how we do it down south.”
Kennedi laughed and let the beat take over.
She turned mid-movement and found him. He stood near the bar, arms crossed, his attention fixed on her. She held his gaze and rolled her hips a little slower. She knew what she was doing.
His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. When she glanced over her shoulder, his expression had changed.
Restraint hung on him by a thread.
The song ended, and she stepped off the dance floor, breathless.
“I took the liberty,” David’s voice cut through her thoughts as he appeared with two champagne glasses.
Kennedi didn’t reach for it. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Come on, just one drink.” He stepped closer, insistent.
“She said she’s good.” Rolani’s voice came from behind her. Rolani had had enough of David breathing in Kennedi’s direction.
David looked up, clearly weighing whether this was worth it. It wasn’t. He set both glasses down and walked away without another word.
Kennedi turned to face Rolani. “Thanks, bodyguard.”
“Keep playing, and I’ll be guarding more than that.”
Her phone buzzed. The car she’d called earlier had arrived. She glanced at the screen, then back at him.
“That’s me,” she said.
He nodded, hands slipping into his pockets, his eyes moving over her face with something he wasn't ready to say out loud.
“He getting a little too comfortable,” he said, his voice low enough for only her to hear. The playfulness from the studio was gone. Territorial had replaced it, and he wasn't bothered about it at all.
Before she could respond, Rolani stepped forward and adjusted the strap of her purse that had slipped off her shoulder. His fingers barely grazed her collarbone. It was the first time he’d touched her since they shook hands on the plane.
“Be safe, Kennedi.” His hand dropped, and he stepped back. “I’ll see you.”
She walked toward the exit, weaving through the crowd. When she reached the door and glanced back, he was still standing there, hands in his pocket, watching her leave.
She pushed through the door, and the night air hit her face. Her phone buzzed again. The group chat.
Shadow: How’s the premiere going? You behaving?
Kennedi stared at the message, thought about the cologne comment, the way his fingers felt on her collarbone, the shelf life of his restraint shrinking by the hour.
Kennedi: Barely.
Back in her hotel suite, Kennedi stared at the massive bouquet of roses that had been delivered while she was gone. She knew who they were from before she even read the card.
You killed it tonight. Couldn’t take my eyes off you. – R.
She sank onto the couch, staring at the flowers with butterflies taking over her stomach. Her phone buzzed.
Spirit: I’m looking for you at the after-party. You coming?
Kennedi looked at the flowers, thought about how she’d felt under his gaze all night. Alive. Electric. Desired in ways that made her skin tingle.
“Oh, what the hell,” she murmured, reaching for her red fringe dress and heading back out.
The rooftop bar was packed. Kennedi found Spirit flirting with some man, but her eyes automatically scanned the crowd for Rolani. She spotted him by the bar. Women surrounded him, vying for his attention, but he looked utterly indifferent.
A warm, possessive feeling spread through her chest.
“No ma’am, no ma’am,” Spirit said, materializing beside her with two drinks. “I know we don’t know each other that well, friend, but Rolani is not it. He’s unavailable emotionally, and he’s off his damn rocker.”
Kennedi nearly choked on her drink. If he was emotionally unavailable, maybe he didn’t want anything but fun. She could give him fun.
“I’m not thinking about Rolani. We just met.”
Spirit's eyes narrowed. “Oh, I see. You two got some chemistry going.” She paused. “Just be careful with that one. He's not a halfway man.”