Chapter 13
Onstage chaos, check. Viral chaos loading.
The applause and screams still rang in her ears.
Emma stepped offstage with her heart hammering, trying not to trip over a cable—or her own feet. Back in the green room, a staffer pressed a cold bottle of water into her hand, someone else patting her back with a quick “well done” as they passed.
Jenna almost shoulder-checked her as she marched toward the door, steps sharp with irritation. Karen followed in her wake, thanking Emma for a good panel before rushing off to the next thing, like this was a perfectly normal Friday morning. Emma felt dazed, drifting without direction.
And then—
“Good answer.”
The voice was low, still carrying traces of amusement. And something about it . . . steadied her. Instantly. Made the room spin just a little slower.
She turned.
Darren was only a few steps behind. The backstage noise seemed to fade around him as if he moved through it untouched. Even under the unflattering green room lights, he was so handsome it bordered on unreal.
Emma gave him a long look as he came up to her. Was this her life now? Casually talking to Darren Cole backstage after sharing a stage with him?
“Which one?”
“The soul one. Nice dramatic pause there. You had the entire room on the edge of their seats.”
She exhaled, still a little shaky. “Apparently, I learned from the best.”
“Ah.” He tilted his head, mock-innocent. “Did I overshare?”
“Overshare? You ambushed me.” She aimed for stern, but it came out stunned, her mind still trying to catch up.
Darren grinned. “Well, we got interrupted yesterday, and I didn’t think I’d get a second chance to impress you. Had to take the opening when it came.”
“You planned that?” Emma’s brows lifted in disbelief.
“Planned?” He gave a light huff. “I had maybe fifteen minutes’ notice before the panel.”
Something shifted across his face—gone before she could be sure she’d seen it. The same fleeting rift she’d noticed on the Darkreach panel. A hairline crack between his words and his expression. The moment was gone before she could make sense of it.
“Well.” She shifted her weight with a glance at the door. She needed to breathe, and she couldn’t do that with Darren still standing so close to her. “Thanks for jumping in last minute.”
Just as she started to turn, his hand found her shoulder. Emma tensed, spinning back. Darren met her wide-eyed gaze with steady calm.
“I did hope I’d get to see you again after yesterday.”
Emma stared at him. His touch was light but confident, even though they barely knew each other. Her knees went weak in a way she couldn’t blame on post-stage adrenaline.
He had the strangest air of effortless control. Like he bent the space around him without trying. How very, very Lucen of him. She’d thought it was an on-screen thing, connected to the roles he played. But nope. Clearly, it was all him.
“I meant what I said out there, Emma,” he said. “It’s a hell of a book you’ve written.”
The words sank in deep and settled. His hand was still on her shoulder—but even more so, it was the way he looked at her. Unhurried, like she was worth the time. Not just another fan to brush past on the way to somewhere else.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“D-man!”
Emma jumped as a booming voice snapped the moment in two. Reality, loud and absurd, rushed back in.
Darren dropped his hand as a man in all-black strode toward them. His hairline was starting to make a tactical retreat by the temples, and he wore thick-rimmed glasses, the kind that men his age liked to use to signal they were still part of the it-crowd.
He clapped Darren on the back with blunt familiarity. “Couldn’t have planned that better myself, mate. Every pair of panties in that room is on fire right now. Probably some boxers, too. If this doesn’t top the trends in fifteen minutes, I’ll hand you the keys to my Bentley.”
The British accent sounded a lot less charming coming from him. Darren’s jaw flexed.
“Emma, this is Max,” he said evenly. “My manager. Max, this is Emma Whitehart. The writer I told you about.”
Told you about? Her chest gave a vivid, traitorous flutter.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Max said, giving her a once-over that wasn’t even trying to be discreet. “You wrote that Lucen character everyone is going mental about. Well done, love.”
“Thanks,” Emma said dryly, her tone entirely different from the one she’d used with Darren.
Max grinned, still eyeing her. “The bookish ones didn’t look like this in my day, eh?” He punctuated it with a light backhand to Darren’s ribs.
“Okay,” Darren cut in, mouth a thin line. “I think we’ve done as much as we possibly could with that first impression.” He placed a firm hand on Max’s shoulder and ushered him away.
“Also,” he murmured to Emma, leaning in as he passed her. His sleeve brushed her bare arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Leah just arrived, and I don’t think the universe could handle those two colliding.”
She let out a breath, too small to count as a huff. His eyes stayed on her just a second longer than necessary—and god, she couldn’t have looked away if the entire room blew up behind her.
“See you around,” he mouthed, leading Max away. He gave Leah a polite nod as they crossed paths.
“Interesting panel, Cole,” Leah offered without breaking stride, hair bobbing over her magenta blazer. Her face was tight as she approached.
“Leah,” Emma said, running a hand over her forehead as if trying to rub her mind back into place. “Did I do okay? He caught me completely—”
Before she could finish, Leah pulled her into a hug so fierce Emma’s breath squeezed out of her. She gasped, finding herself wrapped in a cloud of auburn hair and exclusive perfume.
“My god, are you okay?”
Leah pulled back just as fast, clutching Emma’s shoulders and scanning her face as if looking for physical damage.
“I’m fine,” Emma laughed, still unsettled, but honest.
Leah shook her head, launching into an unbroken stream of commentary. “If I’d had any idea he’d spring that on you . . . But your reaction came out perfect. So genuine. And don’t even get me started on the chemistry—wait till you see the feeds, people are already going insane over this.”
Oh. Right. There had been people watching. Lots of them. Emma swallowed. She’d completely forgotten to maintain even a shred of professional composure when Darren derailed her.
“What are they saying?” she asked cautiously.
Leah looked at her, her expression neutral. “See for yourself.”
She unlocked her phone and handed it to Emma. X was already open, a steady stream of posts unfolding by the second. There were tons of photos of her and Darren together onstage—that in itself felt surreal—but it wasn’t just that. Emma zoomed in on one of the photos.
It had to be the moment right after he had dropped his reveal. She was looking at him, shock and pure joy lighting up her face. And he was looking back. Calm, not quite smiling, but his eyes glowing. Their bodies were tilted toward each other at nearly the same angle.
Emma’s cheeks flushed. “Oh my god, Leah. This is bad. I . . . I look completely in love.”
“You both do,” Leah said.
“Jesus . . . I mean, what if he has a girlfriend?”
Leah arched her brows, skepticism oozing off her. “You mean you don’t know? The woman who signed up for an evening physics course to make her light magic more plausible hasn’t googled whether her celebrity crush is in a relationship?”
Emma leveled her with a look. “I didn’t actually finish that course. And no, I’m not online stalking Darren Cole.”
Leah didn’t seem convinced, but it was the truth.
Emma was well aware that her celebrity crushes were based on fantasy.
She liked it that way. Didn’t want to know anything that might mess with the version she’d built in her own head.
She’d spent countless hours watching Darren in character, but had barely seen a single interview with the real man.
“Well, for your information, then, Darren Cole is famously single. It’s the greatest bachelor mystery since George Clooney finally settled down.”
“Hm,” Emma said, as if Leah had given her tomorrow’s weather forecast, instead of disclosing something that made her spine go a little weak.
Not that it meant anything, she reminded herself. Single or not, he still lived in a different universe.
“Have you seen the posts?”
Emma closed the picture, scrolling through the feed. Apparently, Leah wasn’t the only one who thought they looked in love.
they’re not even fictional and I’d still sell my soul for this ship
Sry Lucen/Catlyn I just updated my OTP
THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER??! EMMA WHITEHART ARE YOU LIVING INSIDE YOUR OWN FANFIC WHAT IS HAPPENING??
She kept going.
Gifs already. Fan edits. Quote overlays.
“Holy shit,” Emma whispered, the floor unsteady under her feet. “This is . . .”
“Going nuclear,” Leah finished. A slow grin spread across her face.
“Honey, this is beyond any PR strategy I could ever have devised. And that’s saying something, because I’m awesome.
You and Darren Cole are currently trending in four countries.
The US, The UK, and Australia. Plus Sweden, randomly. ”
She took the phone back and pulled up the trending tab. There it was. #EmmaWhitehart. Right under #DarrenCole. And just below that: #Colehart.
Emma’s jaw dropped. “They gave us a freaking ship name?”
“Oh, I’d say it’s well deserved.” Leah nudged her shoulder. “So, how does it feel? That the man you pictured during all those nightly hours of writing just proclaimed to the world that he adores your book?”
Emma glared at her. “I didn’t actually base Lucen on him.”
“Sure,” Leah said smoothly. “You keep saying that. Either way, you do realize our odds of getting him for Lucen just shot into the stratosphere, right?”
“Right.” Emma let out a slow breath. Easy to forget about the professional part when he kept making her feel like a damn swooning damsel. “So, what do we do?”
“Leave that to me,” Leah said, still scanning her notifications like a surgeon mid-op. “You? Back to the hotel. You’ve been on since sunrise, and you look like you might short-circuit if someone so much as asks for an autograph.”
“I’m fine—” Emma started.
“Nope. Not negotiable.” Leah cut her off with a sharp wave of her hand.
“Go. I’d recommend an Uber, but take a walk if you need to, you weirdo.
Put on pajamas, scroll yourself into a squee-coma, and for the love of all that is holy, do not open your work email.
I will literally kill you. Moments like this don’t come back, Emma. Enjoy it. That’s an order.”
Emma gave her a playful salute. Some time to decompress didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Figure out if her nervous system was still functioning.
“Fine,” she said. “But I’m raiding the minibar for chocolate.”
“Good girl.” Leah gave her arm a brief pat, then spun away toward the corridor, already zeroed in on her next task.
And Emma was alone—but she didn’t feel like it.
A trace of Darren lingered with her, alive and vibrating under her skin. Something she wasn’t sure she could shake.
Even if she’d wanted to.