Evangeline

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Getting ready for one of my father's premieres was always my favorite thing growing up. Not because it was one of the few times I actually got to spend time with him, but because of the glitz of it all—the way people paid extra attention to me, fawning over me in all the ways my parents never had time for. I'd throw on a beautiful dress, get my hair and makeup done, and suddenly, I'd feel like a princess instead of a child playing dress-up in an adult's world.

Premieres don't hold the same allure for me anymore, especially when this one is for my ex, but I'd be lying if I said today hasn't been a refreshing change of pace from worrying about my stalker over the last few weeks.

I take my time in the shower, savoring these few hours of peace. As I close my eyes and work the shampoo into my hair, letting the hot water pound against my skin, my thoughts drift away from peace and straight to Gabe—more specifically, his mouth, tongue, and fingers.

I'm starting to feel bad for ignoring him. At first, I'd convinced myself it was just about the security issue, but I'm beginning to realize it's more than that. I'm ignoring him because what happened in the hotel room scared me. Pushing him away feels like an act of self-preservation. Getting involved with my bodyguard—the one man in control of my safety—is emotional suicide. It will not end well for me.

It never does.

When I'm finished, I slip into a robe, towel-dry my hair, and step onto the balcony for a moment. I gaze down at the pool and ocean stretching out into the distance, lined by soft white sand. When you have the money to do anything, there are plenty of things you eventually grow tired of, but views like this—those are the one thing I'll never get bored of.

My hair and makeup team is already setting up in the living room, their tools neatly arranged and ready to go. I greet each of them with a smile before settling into the vanity chair, my eyes casually scanning the room for a familiar face. But Kat and every one of my bodyguards are nowhere to be seen.

I turn back to the mirror as the team gets to work, curling my hair into soft waves that cascade down my back. The scent of hairspray fills the air as they expertly pull strands through the curling iron, each twist and turn crafting the perfect wave. My eyes remain locked on my reflection, watching as the transformation takes place. My bare face gradually disappears under layers of foundation, blush, and eyeshadow until I no longer recognize myself.

The red lipstick goes on last, completing my signature classic look, a nod to all those old Hollywood movies I adore. I got this love for the classics from my mother. Whenever she needed to escape the harsh reality or the latest scandal involving my father, she'd pull us into a late-night movie marathon, even if it was a school night.

We'd have popcorn, cakes, and cookies, and curl up in our home theater, losing ourselves in the glamour of it all. I think, deep down, she loved it so much because, to her, it represented what Hollywood should be—glamour, romance, adoration. It was everything she'd signed up for when she became a model and everything she never got.

I spend the time in front of the mirror rehearsing stock answers in case the reporters come for me on the carpet. They shouldn't do, Lilith has made it clear I'm not to stop for any questions and instead head straight to the theater, but it's not always easy dodging a microphone. I need to be ready for it.

At one point, Bailey steps out of his room to stand in the corner, and a cold unease washes over me. I hate the way he looks at me, like I'm just a piece of meat, something he can prey on. I quickly look away, trying to convince myself it's just part of his job to watch me, but the truth is, Stu, Gabe, and even Jack never make me feel this uncomfortable.

Ignoring Bailey's gaze, I scan the room again, desperate for Gabe to show up, but everyone's missing. Anxiety starts to creep in. Maybe something's wrong. Maybe Kat's message to the stalker pushed him to do something drastic, like track down my hotel. Or maybe it's just the paranoia kicking in again.

Right on cue, the hotel room door swings open, and in walks a flushed, out-of-breath Kat. My heart skips a beat. Something's definitely wrong. "Are you okay?" She's got that look she always gets when she's about to deliver bad news, so I'm already bracing myself for the worst. "What happened?"

Unlike me, Kat hasn't quite mastered the art of keeping people calm. "Don't stress out," she starts, which naturally makes me start stressing out. "But I've got some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that Jude canceled last minute, so technically, you don't have a date for the premiere tonight."

I close my eyes, fighting back the childish urge to yell, scream, or throw something. It's bad enough that I have to show up at this premiere, where every question will be about my father's trial or my breakup with Kael, and now I'm expected to go to my ex-boyfriend's premiere alone?

"That's it," I say, getting to my feet. My makeup artist steps back, brush still in hand, her eyes darting between us as I start pacing the room, feeling my nerves begin to spiral. "I'm not going without a date." The thought of showing up alone while Kael flaunts his latest conquest is unbearable. Honestly, I've been looking for an excuse to back out ever since Lilith announced her plans for me—maybe this is it.

"You're forgetting I mentioned there's good news," Kat says, catching my attention. "Jude canceled, but we've got another option."

"What is it?"

"Well," she says slowly, and I swear, at this rate, I'm going to have to murder her, "Gabe will do it."

I lift my head to see Gabe leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes carefully assessing me. Ignoring the sudden thump in my chest, I ask, "Do what?"

I'm staring straight at Gabe as I say it. He raises an eyebrow, letting the silence linger between us for a moment before he replies, "Be your date tonight."

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, and when they do, I can't believe it. Gabe, the man who seems to despise everything about Hollywood, is offering to be my date for the premiere tonight?

"It'll work," Kat insists, glancing between us. If it wasn't for the fact she has no clue about anything that's happened between Gabe and me, I might think she was setting us up. "The paps always cut Gabe out of the pictures they take of you, so no one will even recognize him as your bodyguard. It might even stir up more attention to see you with someone new."

I barely have time to process any of this before Kat starts talking about arranging a suit for Gabe and slips out of the room. I'm still staring at Gabe, overcome with this sudden warmth settling over me, feelings I've spent the last few weeks trying to suppress. I know that, under normal circumstances, there's no way he'd volunteer to be his client's date to a premiere, and knowing he'd do that for me means more to me than I've wanted to admit. For once, there is someone I can rely on.

"Gabe!" Kat calls from outside the hotel room.

I snap out of the trance I'm in and say, "You're being summoned. I wouldn't keep her waiting. She turns into a gremlin."

The corner of his mouth lifts, but only a little. For a second. "I'll see you tonight, Piccola."

I close my eyes as he steps outside, releasing the breath I've been holding, trying not to think about the fire burning between my legs. I don't understand why he has this effect on me or how he gets under my skin so easily, but I'm starting to wonder if it's worth fighting it anymore—or if I even can.

Once my makeup artist is done spraying my makeup setting spray, the wardrobe team steps in, fitting me into the dress Kat picked out last week—a stunning, long gold gown covered in tiny sequins. It's perfect for the premiere's theme, "Gold Luxury," which ties into the movie's plot about a girl falling in love with a billionaire.

By the time Gabe and Kat return, it's nearly time for the premiere, and I'm getting more and more uneasy about having Gabe as my date. But even Stu, who just got back from his meeting with the event security, doesn't seem concerned.

"It's not a bad idea," he says, rubbing his chin, which is surprising coming from him—this is Gabe we're talking about, and they're not exactly fond of each other. "It means he can go with you into areas where personal security usually can't."

I'm about to argue that Gabe won't last a second posing as my date at a premiere, but then the hotel door swings open.

Seeing him in head-to-toe black Giorgio Armani is enough to give me heart palpitations. He's too beautiful for his own good—all that classic black against his dark eyes and hair. I suddenly forget why I was supposed to be ignoring him in the first place.

Gabe doesn't speak, his focus entirely on me. He traces the curve of my neck and collarbone before settling on my dress. His eyes seem to both darken and brighten at once.

Tingles sweep through me as Kat walks in behind him, glancing at Gabe with a satisfied smile. "Finding a suit to fit a giant last minute might just be my best work yet," she says, clearly admiring her handiwork. Glancing at me, she adds, "You two look great together."

I shoot her a glare for that last comment, but we're already on the verge of running late, so I let it slide. Stu, Bailey, and Jack gather us around to go over the safety plan for tonight, detailing the measures in place, what to expect when we arrive, and where they'll be stationed. Despite my discomfort with the last-minute change, I can't deny that I feel surprisingly calmer knowing Gabe will be by my side all night, protecting me.

When it's time to leave, Gabe hooks his arm through mine, glancing down at me, looking every inch the leading man as he, Stu, and Jack escort us to the car. The others move quickly ahead, giving Gabe the chance to lean in close, his breath warm against my ear in a way that could be considered unprofessional.

"You look beautiful, Piccola."

A thousand shivers race across my skin, the heat of his breath reminding me of everything I'm holding myself back from. But in moments like this, when he forgets to hate me or forgets that he's my bodyguard, I find myself wanting to risk it all.

The car Gabe, Stu, and I are taking is already waiting for us outside the lobby. Jack and Bailey will follow in another vehicle, ready to get out first at the venue and give us the signal. At least, that's what they've told me the plan is. At this point, I'm just doing as I'm told, leaving my safety entirely in their hands.

Gabe carefully helps me inside, straightening out my dress and making sure it doesn't catch on anything. In that brief moment before he closes the door, our eyes meet, and there's a mix of heat, confusion rising between us. Then he closes the door, walking around the car and slipping into the seat beside me.

All the emotions I've been trying to suppress since the breakup resurface. I never got the chance to scream, shout, or curse Kael for cheating on me, because in the back of my mind, I could hear my mother's voice telling me, Don't let them see you vulnerable. So I bottled it all up, and now, part of me wants to say everything I never got to say tonight. If I didn't always have to think about how I'm coming across, I would.

The sun is almost gone, and the spot where we've stopped is hidden from any passing traffic. Gabe's dark gaze is intense, his eyes like melted chocolate as they lock onto mine, then drop to my lips. I want to run my fingers through his hair, but I'm still trying to protect myself, and with Stu up front, I keep my hands to myself.

Inside my custom-made gold clutch, my phone vibrates. Kat finally relented and let me keep it after the last message, but now, as it buzzes, another wave of anger crashes over me. I hate being at the mercy of some psycho behind a screen. I discreetly open my clutch and glance at the message without pulling the phone out, not wanting Gabe to see.

See you tonight, Evangline.

I snap my clutch shut, a cold, clammy feeling spreading across my skin. We've been so careful—no posts on social media that could hint at where I'm going, no one spotting me coming or going from the hotel. That's what terrifies me the most. No matter how cautious we've been, no matter how secure my team is, this stalker is always one step ahead.

The car is already pulling up to the Silverspot cinema before I can work out what to do. Camera flashes strobe through the night at once, illuminating the frenzy of fans pressed against the metal barriers. As Stu opens my door, I gather my long dress and step out.

Gabe is already waiting at the curb, his eyes scanning the paparazzi and journalists lining the red carpet, still acting like a bodyguard rather than my date. I take in his stiff posture, wishing I could find a way to tell him to relax, but from this point forward, every move, every glance, every word is under scrutiny.

Instead, I slide my arm around Gabe's waist, pressing up against him, making sure our act as a couple is convincing. I feel his sharp intake of breath as his hand snakes around my waist. His hard, flat abs tense beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, and I let my clasped hands glide just a bit lower until they graze the waistband of his trousers.

Stu says something to him. He gives a distracted nod, his dark eyes fixed on the chaotic sea of people ahead. Finally, he turns toward me, taking his large hand in mine. Our gazes lock. "Ready when you are, Principessa."