Chapter 9
The flashing lights blind me as Axel and I step onto the red carpet. I feel his hand in its usual place at the small of my back, guiding me through the sea of cameras and microphones. It”s a touch that”s both reassuring and electric, sending shivers down my spine despite the warm LA night.
”Sasha! Axel! Over here!” a reporter calls out, waving us over. I plaster on my best smile, the one I”ve practiced in the mirror a thousand times. It”s the smile that says ”I”m happy, I”m in love, and everything is perfect.”
But everything isn”t perfect. Far from it. As Axel and I pose for the cameras, his arm around my waist, I can”t help but feel like a fraud. This isn”t real. None of it is. We”re just playing a part, putting on a show for the world to see.
And yet, there”s a part of me that wishes it were real. A part of me that craves the warmth of Axel”s touch, the steadiness of his gaze. A part of me that wants to believe that the smiles and the laughter and the whispered words are more than just an act.
”You okay?” Axel murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. I suppress a shiver, nodding quickly.
”I”m fine,” I whisper back, my voice a little too high, a little too bright. ”Just... it”s a lot, you know?”
He nods, his eyes searching mine. For a moment, I think I see a flicker of something there. Something real. Something raw. But then it”s gone, replaced by the cool, collected mask of Axel Creed, billionaire bodyguard extraordinaire.
”Just remember,” he says, his voice low and steady, ”we”re in this together. I”ve got your back, no matter what.”
I nod, swallowing hard. ”I know,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. ”I trust you.”
And I do. Despite everything, despite the confusion and the uncertainty and the fear, I trust Axel with my life. With my heart.
But as we make our way down the red carpet, smiling and waving and playing our parts to perfection, I can”t shake the feeling that I”m walking a tightrope without a net. That one wrong move, one false step, could send me tumbling into the abyss.
And I”m not sure if Axel will be there to catch me when I fall.
The quiet of the recording studio feels like a sanctuary after the day”s masquerade. The dim lights and the hum of the equipment create a cocoon of intimacy, a stark contrast to the flashbulbs and crowds we faced earlier. I let out a sigh, feeling the tension of the day slowly ebbing away.
Axel is standing by the soundboard, his eyes scanning the room. Even here, in this space that”s mine, he”s on alert. Always watching, always protecting. I can”t help but feel a pang of gratitude, mixed with a twinge of sadness. This is my life now. A life of fear and caution, of fake smiles and carefully crafted lies.
”Tough day?” Axel”s voice breaks the silence, his tone softer than I”ve heard it all day. I turn to look at him, surprised by the question. He”s looking at me, his gaze steady and open.
”You could say that,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. I walk over to the soundboard, standing next to him. I can feel the warmth of his body and the solidness of his presence. It”s a comfort, a reassurance. But it”s also a reminder of the line we”re walking and the roles we”re playing.
”I know this isn”t easy for you, Sasha,” he says, his voice low. ”I know it”s not what you signed up for.”
I look up at him, my eyes meeting his. ”Neither is having a stalker,” I say, my voice sharper than I intended. I see a flash of guilt in his eyes, and I immediately regret my words. ”I”m sorry,” I say, my voice softening. ”I didn”t mean it like that.”
He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine. ”No, you”re right,” he says. ”This isn”t what either of us signed up for. But here we are.”
There”s a silence between us, a space filled with unspoken words and unasked questions. I can feel the weight of them pressing down on me. I want to ask him if he”s okay, if this is as hard for him as it is for me. But I”m afraid of the answer. Afraid of what it might mean.
”I just... I don”t know how much more of this I can take,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, the lump forming in my throat. I”m not used to feeling this vulnerable, this exposed. But here, in this space, with Axel, I can”t help but let my guard down.
He reaches out, his hand finding mine. His touch is warm and steady, a safety net in the storm of my emotions. ”You”re stronger than you think, Sasha,” he says, his voice soft. ”You”ve always been.”
I look up at him, my eyes searching his. For a moment, I see a flicker of something in his eyes. Something that looks a lot like admiration. Something that looks a lot like caring. Something that looks a lot like...
I push the thought away, focusing on the warmth of his hand in mine. ”I just wish I didn”t have to be,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. ”I wish I could just... be me. Sasha. Not Sasha Cruz, the pop star. Not Sasha Cruz, the stalker victim. Just... me.”
He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. ”I know,” he says. ”And I”m sorry. I”m sorry that this is happening to you. I”m sorry that I can”t make it stop.”
I can see the frustration in his eyes, the guilt. It”s a look I know well. A look I”ve seen in the mirror more times than I can count. It”s a look that says, ”I”m not enough. I can”t fix this. I can”t protect you.”
I squeeze his hand, my eyes never leaving his. ”You”re doing everything you can,” I say, my voice steady. ”And that”s enough. That”s more than enough.”
He nods, seeming to accept my faith in him. I see the determination in his eyes, and I can”t help but feel a flicker of something else. Something that feels a lot like hope. And that scares me more than anything else. Because hope is a dangerous thing. It”s a light in the darkness, a promise of something better. But it”s also a risk. A gamble. A leap of faith.
And I”m not sure if I”m ready to take that leap. Not yet. Not with Axel. Not with anyone. But as I stand here, in this studio, with his hand in mine, I can”t help but wonder... What if? What if this isn”t just a charade? What if this isn”t just a game? What if this is real?
“It’s just… this thing between us,” I say, gesturing vaguely, “You said it was stirring up old feelings, but what if that’s just the adrenaline talking? Everything is different now from before, and we didn’t even really know each other then.”
“It’s not adrenaline,” he answers, almost before the words have left my lips. “I meant what I said. I didn’t know if I would ever see you again, but the feelings were real. Are real.”
Before I can explore that thought, before I can delve into the depths of that hope, Axel”s phone rings. The moment shatters, the spell broken. Reality comes crashing back in, harsh and unforgiving.
”Creed,” he answers, his voice all business. I can see the mask slip back into place, the walls go back up. He”s back to being Axel Creed, billionaire bodyguard extraordinaire. And I”m back to being Sasha Cruz, pop star with a stalker problem.
Leaningagainst the cool wrought-iron railing of my balcony, I let out a long, shaky breath. The night”s inky canvas stretches out above me, dotted with stars that seem oblivious to the chaos of my life. The glimmering lights of LA below mirror the tumultuous feelings swirling inside me.
”Who knew playing make-believe could knock the wind outta ya?” I mutter to myself, trying to find humor in this mess. My laugh, though, comes out as a huff—a sound more suited to exasperation than amusement.
The day”s events replay in my head like a highlight reel from hell. Axel”s smoldering blue eyes burning with a mix of concern and... something else. His touch, light on my back but heavy with meaning. And damn it, that voice—low and reassuring—telling me we”re in this together.
”Sure,” I scoff, pulling my cardigan tighter around me as if it could shield me from my own traitorous thoughts. ”Together until this stalker shit is over, and then what? Back to being strangers?”
I trace the outline of a blooming night jasmine with my fingertip, its scent sweet and intoxicating. ”At least you don”t have commitment issues,” I say to the flower, grateful for something that doesn”t talk back or look at me with piercing eyes full of secrets.
But it”s those very secrets that tug at me now—the hidden depths behind Axel”s stoic facade that I once thought I”d navigated. The man is like a walking contradiction: all hard edges and soft glances. A fortress with a door that”s both open and closed to me.
My phone buzzes on the table beside me, slicing through the silence like a warning siren.
A text from Simon flashes on the screen.
Simon
How are you holding up?
With a groan, I type back
Sasha
Like a chandelier in an earthquake.
There”s a pause before his reply comes through.
Simon
That good, huh?
Sasha
Shut up
I send back with a smirk before my gaze returns to the cityscape.
It”s quiet moments like these—alone under the vastness of it all—that remind me how small my problems are in the grand scheme of things. But as much as I try to dismiss them, they cling like shadows.
”I”m Sasha Cruz,” I whisper into the night. ”Not some damsel in distress.” But even as I say it, there”s a tremor in my voice that betrays my doubt.
The charade with Axel is supposed to be simple: play the part of lovers to throw off some creep who gets his kicks from scaring me. But nothing about this feels simple—not when every look from Axel sends my heart into overdrive.
I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could block out not just the view but also the turmoil within me. How do you keep your heart from getting tangled up in a lie when every fiber of your being yearns for it to be true?
Opening my eyes again, I stare into the darkness beyond my balcony—a vast unknown that somehow feels less daunting than confronting what”s growing inside me for Axel. The risk isn”t just falling for him again—it”s plummeting without knowing if he”ll be there to catch me.
”Damn you, Axel,” I whisper into the night air, ”for making me wish this lie was our truth.”
But even as the words leave my lips, I know it”s not just Axel I”m cursing. It”s myself too. For being weak. For being afraid. For wanting something I know I can”t have.
I can”t keep doing this. I can”t keep pretending that I”m okay. That I”m not falling apart. That I”m not scared out of my mind.
But I have to. I have to keep going. I have to keep fighting. Because that”s what I do. That”s who I am. A fighter. A woman who doesn”t give up.