18. Theo
18
THEO
“ A re you okay?” I ask Grace the next morning.
“I don’t know the answer to that,” she sighs as she paces the kitchen.
“I get it. I’ve been where you are, so…I understand.”
“What do you mean that you’ve been where I am? You haven’t had a stalker before, have you?”
“Alexia, sort of. Not to the extent of Andrew, but similar.”
“What happened?”
I run a hand through my hair. We had discussed this briefly before but now, I should tell her all of it.
“I hosted a gala at my old home.
At the time, it was a big affair—lots of people were there. I wasn’t as strict about checking backgrounds back then.
This gorgeous woman introduced herself to me early in the night. She said she was my assistant Camille’s best friend.
I didn’t think anything of it. My staff used to invite friends and family to make the events bigger and boost publicity.”
“Making them use their social media or something?”
“Exactly.
Anyway, this woman’s ex-boyfriend showed up out of nowhere. They’d both been drinking, and things got heated fast.
They got into a really big argument—it turned physical.
I stepped in to protect her, because I was always taught you don’t hit a woman.
I told her she could go to my guest room, clean up, and calm down.”
I stop, and chuckles dryly at the irony of what I’m about to add.
“I even had an officer come in plain clothes to take her statement so she could press charges and file a restraining order.
Honestly, I forgot all about it.
The next morning, she came out of the guest room and told me the officer never showed up. She said she fell asleep and would leave right away.
I overheard her calling hotels and friends, trying to find a place to stay.
She told a friend that all the hotels were booked and she had nowhere to go.
She even tried calling an Uber—made a big show of how her debit and credit cards weren’t working.”
“But she was lying?”
“I didn’t know that then, of course, but yeah.
She was crying, saying her ex must’ve gone to the bank, pulled out all the money, and canceled her credit cards.
She told me she didn’t have anywhere to go, but she’d find someplace.
Said she wouldn’t put me out anymore.”
“Nice guilt trip,” she says with a sigh.
“Yeah. Camille is exceptionally reliable, so I thought Alexia would be safe. I told her she could stay until she figured something out. Each day there was a different sob story about why she couldn’t leave.”
My irritation becomes more visible.
“She told me that her ex got her fired from her last job, so I got her a spot on the set I was working on. Every day was a different excuse as to why she couldn’t get in a new place.”
“She was lying?”
“Yeah, again, I didn’t know that.
She had a lie and an excuse for everything—this giant victim statement about how nothing was going her way and she just couldn’t catch a break.
But I started noticing things. Her stories weren’t adding up.
And then I realized she had a crush on me.
She thought that because I was doing all these nice things for her, it meant I was in love with her... that we were a couple.”
I see the surprise on her face, and I can’t hide how na?ve I now realize I was.
“I later found out that Camille and her weren’t even close.
Camille told me I needed to kick her out immediately.
She said the last three boyfriends this woman had were forced to evict her—because she wouldn’t leave.”
“Oh no.”
“I tried to kick her out, but she threw herself at me.
I politely declined, told her I wasn’t interested, and explained that I make it a rule not to date people who work on set with me.
She got upset—started yelling at me.
I walked out of the house because I had to be at a benefit auction.”
I look down, trying to hide my anger now.
“She showed up just as someone bought a date with me. She started screaming, accusing me of God knows what, and before I knew it, we were outside, in front of the cameras, and she was throwing punches.”
I shake my head, the shame still raw.
“I tried to hold her back, to calm her down—but someone caught it on camera.
It looked like... like I was the one being violent.
After that, she made all kinds of accusations about me.
She wouldn’t leave my house, so I had to move out of my own home.
Eventually, she was evicted, and I filed a restraining order... but she did a lot of damage.”
“And they ran with it, didn’t they? The press?”
“Of course they did,” I say bitterly.
“Suddenly, I’m public enemy number one—the guy who can’t control his temper.
It didn’t matter what the truth was. No one cared about the details.
By the time she was evicted, my house was unlivable.
The media spun it into this whole narrative, and she... well, she leaned into it.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment; she just watches me with an intensity I’m not used to. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “That must’ve been... hard.”
“That’s putting it lightly.
My reputation took a nosedive. Directors pulled out, my agent fired me, and business deals started falling through.
It took years to rebuild.
And even now, there are still people who look at me like I’m guilty.”
She’s silent for a beat, her eyes searching mine. She uncrosses her legs and leans forward slightly, her demeanor shifting from guarded to... something else.
“I remember her showing up at your house. I believed her lies. I also heard those stories. And believed them.”
“I know. I was angry that you didn’t give me a chance to explain. It took me a while to realize that we barely knew each other, and neither of us owed the other anything.”
“I couldn’t understand how Devon could be friends with someone like you.”
She shifts in her seat like she’s debating whether or not to tell me what’s clearly weighing on her. After a moment, she sighs, her gaze drifting to the floor.
“There was someone in my past, too,” she starts, her tone quieter now.
“Not just Andrew.
Someone who... who wasn’t what he seemed.
He was charming, successful, and said all the right things.
And I believed him. I fell for him.”
The tension in her voice tells me there’s more to the story, something darker. I don’t push her, though. I know what it’s like to dredge up the past, to let someone see the wounds you’ve tried so hard to hide.
“It started small,” she continues, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Little things—controlling where I went, who I talked to.
I thought it was because he cared, that he just wanted to protect me.
But then it escalated.
Verbal abuse, manipulation...
He had this way of making me feel like everything was my fault.”
My chest tightens at the rawness in her voice, the vulnerability she’s showing for the first time since I’ve known her. It’s jarring, seeing her like this, after all the barbs we’ve exchanged, all the walls we’ve put up between us.
“I stayed for too long,” she admits. “I thought I could fix him, that if I just tried harder, everything would get better. But it didn’t. It only got worse.”
She swallows hard, her gaze distant, lost in the memories.
“I finally left when it became physical.
I don’t know why it took me so long, but when I walked out, I promised myself I’d never let anyone have that kind of power over me again.
He used to cheat on me, and so... when Alexia said those things about you, I was so triggered and…”
The room falls into silence, both of us processing the other's story. I hadn’t expected this, hadn’t anticipated that beneath her tough exterior, she was carrying around her own share of scars.
And now, knowing that we both have our pasts, our own versions of hell, something shifts between us.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” I say, my voice low, unsure of what else to say. “I…”
“It’s fine,” she interrupts, meeting my gaze. “I guess we’ve both been through some shit.”
For the first time since she walked into my life, I understand why she was initially the thorn in my side, a constant aggravation. I see her as someone who’s been broken, just like I have, and who’s still trying to piece herself back together.
“I guess we’re more alike than we realized. Probably why we couldn’t stay away from each other,” she laughs.
It’s been a month of peace and tranquility.
The red carpet stretches before us like a glowing river of flashing lights and cameras, the buzz of the crowd humming in the air as we step out of the sleek black town car.
Grace is beside me, radiant in a floor-length, shimmering emerald gown that catches the light and seems to sparkle like the stars. I catch my breath for a moment, taking in how effortlessly stunning she looks.
Her hair is swept to one side, her skin glowing under the paparazzi’s bright flashes, and I feel an overwhelming surge of pride and something deeper, more protective.
This world, the one full of cameras and headlines, hasn’t always been kind to me. But tonight, with Grace by my side, I feel like I can take on anything.
Every whisper about us being some kind of twisted fairy tale, a "Beauty and the Beast" story because of my past, fades into nothing when she glances up at me with those warm, trusting eyes.
“You ready for this?” I murmur, leaning close so only she can hear.
She smiles, her lips parting slightly, and the tension in my shoulders eases at the sight of it. “I’m always ready with you.”
I take her hand, lacing my fingers through hers, and as we step forward onto the carpet, I hear the familiar buzz of voices calling out our names.
Flashes explode around us, the shouts from the photographers growing louder, but all I can focus on is Grace’s hand in mine, her presence beside me.
“Grace! Theo! Over here!” someone calls, and we both turn, flashing smiles in that direction, playing the game we’ve come to understand so well.
Grace glances at me with a look of mischief in her eyes, and I raise a brow, silently asking her what she’s plotting.
"Let’s give them something to talk about," she whispers, her lips brushing against my ear.
Before I can respond, she tugs me forward a bit, turning us so that she’s closer to the photographers.
She leans into me, her hand still firmly gripping mine, and I see the moment she decides to kiss me—right there, in front of everyone.
I’m not one for public displays like this, especially not under the glare of a thousand flashing lights, but Grace knows exactly how to disarm me.
She always does.
Her lips press against mine, and everything around us blurs. It’s just her and me on a red carpet full of people and flashing cameras.
When she pulls back, the cameras go wild, and I can’t help but chuckle at the chaos she’s just unleashed.
"Guess we're making headlines tonight," I say, low enough for only her to hear.
She grins up at me, not an ounce of regret in her eyes.
"Why not? We’re already the talk of the town. Might as well change the story while we can."
We move down the carpet, stopping for interviews, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around how natural Grace seems in all of this.
One of the reporters steps forward, mic in hand, and smiles at both of us.
"Theo, Grace, you two have been the subject of a lot of media attention lately. Everyone’s curious—how did you two meet?"
Grace glances at me, and I know she’s letting me take the lead on this one. I smile at the reporter, thinking back to that first day we met, so far from this glitzy world.
"Well," I start, "it wasn’t exactly glamorous. Her manager and I are good friends; he asked me to help her out."
Grace squeezes my hand, her thumb brushing over my knuckles.
“He’s being modest,” she cuts in, smiling at the reporter.
“Devon knew that Theo is a protective, caring man—the only one he could trust to keep me safe when my stalker was slipping through everything else.”
“It’s hard not to want to protect such a treasure,” I add.
The reporter laughs. "And Grace, what drew you to him?"
“He was a little grumpy at first, but it was intriguing at the same time.
We clashed a lot in the beginning.
But then I realized... he was kind.
There was a quietness about him, something different from the usual loud personalities I’m used to.
He didn’t know it at the time, but he saved me that first day.”
The reporter raises an eyebrow. "Saved you?"
She nods, looking up at me with that same softness in her eyes.
“He’s my knight in shining armor, really.
He doesn’t like me saying that, but it’s true.
He helped me through a tough time—even when he didn’t know he was doing it.
Just by being there.
By being... him.”
She knows the right things to say to the camera, but her words are hitting me in a way I wasn’t ready for.
I turn to the reporter and shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under the weight of Grace’s praise. "She’s being way too generous."
The questions keep coming, and we move through them as smoothly as we can. Grace fields a few more, keeping things light, but I can tell she’s starting to tire of the spotlight.
I lean over, whispering in her ear, "How about we get off the red carpet soon?"
"Yes, please."
As we finish the last few interviews, we slip inside the venue, away from the cameras and crowds. The shift in the atmosphere is immediate, and Grace exhales, finally letting herself relax.
I pull her close, my arm wrapping around her waist.
"Thank you," I murmur into her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I think this is the most fun I’ve ever had on the red carpet."
She looks up at me and winks. "Stick with me, kid, and I’ll make every day a blast.”
"I believe that,” I chuckle.
My past isn’t exactly a secret, and I know some people are still waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for me to mess things up with Grace.
But she’s never wavered. She’s always seen something in me that I struggle to see in myself.
"You don’t have to worry," she says, as if reading my mind.
She reaches up, cupping my face in her hands, her eyes searching mine.
"I’m your biggest fan. All of you.
Even the parts you think I shouldn’t."
I swallow hard.
How do I reply to that?
I chuckle, leaning down to capture her lips in a soft kiss. When we finally pull back, I take her hand again, and we make our way further into the venue.
Ready to enjoy the rest of the night — just the two of us together.
The evening passes in a blur of music, laughter, and soft glances exchanged across the room.
We navigate the attention with practiced ease, but by the time dessert is served, I’m ready to leave the spotlight behind.
As we slip out of the venue, I feel like I can breathe. Grace is leaning against me as we walk, her hand resting on my chest, and I press a kiss to her temple, savoring the quiet of the moment.
"That wasn’t so bad, was it?" she asks, glancing up at me with a teasing smile.
"It was tolerable," I reply, smirking down at her. "But only because you were there."
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips. "You’re such a charmer."
I shrug. "What can I say? You bring it out of me."
We climb back into the car, and as the driver pulls away from the venue, I glance over at Grace. She’s gazing out the window, her fingers still laced through mine.
How did I get so lucky?