26. Amanda
Amanda
The theater smells like home.
Fresh paint.
Dust.
Old wood.
Coffee.
And nerves.
Lots and lots of nerves.
I stand in front of the mirror in my dressing room, adjusting the simple rehearsal skirt Brielle picked out for me and trying very hard not to throw up.
Because we're back.
After everything.
After the accident.
After the repairs.
After the investigation.
We're finally back.
And somehow that makes this feel even bigger than opening night.
“Rusty?”
I look up.
Less is leaning against the doorway.
God, he’s so damn hot.
Arms crossed.
Dark pants.
Dark shirt.
Dark eyes fixed entirely on me.
Good Lord.
Even his tattoos seem especially vibrant today.
I swear the man was created in some secret laboratory for the sole purpose of distracting women.
“How do I look?” I ask nervously.
His expression softens immediately.
“Beautiful.”
I roll my eyes.
“That's not helpful. I meant, how do I look for this role?” I reply and roll my eyes, but inside?
Inside, I’m grinning like the Cheshire cat.
“Well, I’m just being honest. You always look beautiful to me.”
He walks over and straightens one of the ribbons on my shoulder with those big careful hands of his.
“But do you want the truth?”
“Always.”
“You also look a little nervous.”
I sigh.
“Am I that obvious?”
“To me? Yeah.”
“Great.”
“Hey, that’s only because I know you as well as I know myself.”
He’s not wrong. Less does know me. But that doesn’t ease my nerves.
Then, his hand finds my waist.
Warm.
Steady.
Safe.
“You've done this a thousand times, Rusty.”
“I know.”
“And you’re not walking out there a nobody, you hear me? You're Amanda Perkins.”
I snort.
“Yes, but even Amanda Perkins occasionally gets stage fright.”
“Impossible. You’re a superstar, Rusty.”
I laugh.
“I absolutely am not.”
He bends and kisses my forehead.
“Damn straight, you are. Now, get out there and kill it.”
“Thanks.”
Then something occurs to me.
I narrow my eyes.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Why are you here? Don't you have actual work to do?”
He blinks.
“I am working.”
“No, I mean other jobs.”
He looks genuinely confused.
“Rusty.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Not really.”
I throw up my hands.
“Less, surely there are other clients. Other assignments. This is just rehearsal, and after last time, you’ve got the place locked down. You don’t have to hang around here,” I say, but inside I don’t want him to go.
He shakes his head, and I immediately feel better.
“Don’t tell me you’re tired of me?” Less teases.
I shake my head, but wait for him to finish before responding, “Look, don’t freak out, but Chance Madoc and Oliver Pax hired Sigma to oversee security for the duration.”
I blink.
“What?”
“I am your bodyguard for the duration of the show. But if I have anything to say about it, I’ll be guarding that body for a damn sight longer.”
The words come out with a finality that brooks absolutely no argument.
“For better or worse,” he whispers.
My stomach flips.
Because that's ridiculously possessive.
Ridiculously over-the-top.
And ridiculously hot.
Which is inconvenient, since I still have six hours of rehearsals left.
“You know you're impossible, right?”
“So I've been told.”
“You're not even pretending to be reasonable anymore.”
“Nope.”
He hands me my tea.
“Drink.”
I stare.
“Excuse me?”
“Drink your tea.”
I laugh.
“Yes, sir.”
His eyes darken.
“Dammit, Rusty, I’m supposed to be working but now all I can think of is hearing you call me sir when we’re in bed tonight,” he growls, and his eyes get even darker.
Heat immediately floods my cheeks.
“Oh my God.”
“Exactly.”
He drops a hard, quick kiss on my mouth, and it’s not nearly enough. Less is already setting me away from him when I notice some stagehands passing through the corridor.
I can’t even move yet, but he’s watching me, licking his plump lips even as his face slips back into his professional facade.
“Go do your thing, Sweetheart. I’ll be right here.”
Less returns to his post by the door like some giant tattooed gargoyle. Meanwhile, my heart is beating so loudly, I wonder if anyone else can hear it.
Honestly? It's absurd.
Objectively, this is the most relaxed and desired I’ve ever felt. He just leaves me floored every single time.
I know he wants more. He wants commitment, a promise—he wants the words.
And yeah, I’ve been scared to take the plunge. You know what they say.
Once burned equals twice shy.
But the truth?
I am so completely in love with Less. I can’t imagine being without him, and I know—I know—I don’t want to be with anyone else.
He is it for me. My everything. And he always seems to know exactly what I need.
But before I can tell him—because yeah, I need to be concentrating on my role, but instead I’m concentrating on him—Brielle bursts into the hallway to my dressing room carrying approximately six costumes.
“Oh, thank God you're here!”
“Morning, Bri.”
She stops dead.
Looks at me.
Looks at Less’ back where he’s standing facing away from us a few feet from the doorway.
Looks back at me.
“You're glowing.”
I nearly choke on my tea.
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
She points dramatically.
“Look at your face!”
I can’t see his face, but I know Less is smirking from the way he’s shoulders are set.
Smug jackass.
God, I love him.
“She's cute when she's embarrassed,” he calls out without turning around.
“Alessio!”
“Am I wrong?”
“Yes!”
“Liar.”
Brielle starts laughing.
“Seriously, you two are so cute it’s disgusting.”
“Thank you,” Less says proudly.
“Not a compliment!”
“Sounds like one,” he replies.
I burst out laughing.
And suddenly—all my nerves disappear.
Just like that.
Because he's here.
Because we’re here—together.
And because despite everything—life keeps moving.
“Amanda?”
I turn.
Leandra Madoc is standing beside Brielle.
Looking absolutely stunning in leggings and an oversized sweater.
“Ready?”
I smile.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“Excellent.”
Then her eyes flick toward Less.
“Bodyguard Boyfriend behaving himself?”
Less answers before I can.
“Always.”
Leandra snorts.
“Chance said the same thing right before he threatened a paparazzo with bodily harm.”
“I'd never threaten anyone,” Less says solemnly.
I stare at him.
He stares back.
“Yeah, right. Anyway, Amanda, I’ll leave these in here for you,” Brielle says before snorting a laugh.
Leandra laughs too.
And then—for the first time since the accident—I walk onto the stage.
And the thing is, I’m not afraid.
Because somewhere behind me, standing watch with those dark eyes and that stubborn heart—is the man I love.
And maybe I'm still scared.
Maybe I still don't trust forever.
Not completely.
But as I take my place under the lights, one thought settles quietly inside me.
Sometimes all it takes is a little faith—and the courage to jump.