The air is filled with screaming. Camera flashes strobe through the night like lightning. Fans press against the metal barriers, clawing and shouting and climbing over each other to get closer to Briar.
We’ve been at the Players press event for forty minutes already, and we haven’t even gotten inside yet; we’re still stuck in the little fan holding area, so Briar can get her ‘allotted fan interaction time’. I trail after her as she moves down the line, taking selfies and scribbling autographs. Glen and Kenta shadow us on either side, hanging around in the background, but once again, I am playing the part of her arm candy. Which is pretty ironic, since I’m the only one of us she hasn’t slept with.
I rub my forehead. I feel like shit.
I’m exhausted. I spent half the night waking up from nightmares covered in sweat, and the other half listening to Briar moaning through the walls. God knows what the guys were doing to her, but it sounded like she came about fifty times. It’s weird to have a flashback and a boner at the same time, but I am glad to report it is possible.
I run my eyes over the crowd pressed against the barrier, looking for the usuals; people avoiding eye contact, people shouting obscenities, people with their hands shoved in their pockets. I hate working carpets. They’re death traps. Everyone is acting like a bloody lunatic, screeching and hollering at the celebs like they want to murder them. How the Hell am I supposed to pick out the ones who actually do?
As I watch, a guy with frizzy red hair leans right over the barrier, practically taking Briar’s eye out with the pen he’s waving in her face.
“Behind the barrier,” I bark at him.
He ignores me, leaning so far over I’m tempted to give him a good yank and watch him topple to the floor. My eyes catch on the picture he’s brought for her to sign. It’s a cartoon drawing of her naked. Jesus Christ. I grab it out of his hand before Briar sees it, crumpling it into a ball.
His eyes widen. “Dude! That’s my art, you’ve ruined it!”
I ignore him, turning to Julie. “That’s enough. We’re out of here.”
She gives me a stern look, but waves us forward out of the fan meet area. There’s a big white holding tent set up for all of the stars, where orderlies are noting their names down and staggering their entrances on the red carpet. I keep my hand on Briar’s back as we step between the hot tent flaps.
It’s busy inside. Hordes of celebrities huddle together in their evening wear, sipping champagne and examining their faces in compact mirrors. Each star is flanked by at least one security guard, so the pavilion is thick with huge, hulking guys in dark suits and earpieces.
Briar grabs a drink of water and touches up her lipstick, then Julie directs us out onto the carpet.
The photographers go nuts as soon as we appear, immediately starting to screech.
“YOU LOOK STUNNING BRIAR, WORK THAT DRESS!”
“GIVE US AN OVER-THE-SHOULDER, BRIAR!”
“WHO’S THE LUCKY MAN!?!”
“TO YOUR LEFT, BRIAR! LEFT! TO YOUR LEFT!”
“GIVES US A SMILE, HONEY!”
Cameras flash all around us as we pose against the logo-studded backdrop. I glance down at Briar, checking for any signs of anxiety, but she seems relaxed enough. She looks stunning tonight. She’s wearing this glimmery rose-gold gown that dips low in the back. Her hair is loose, falling in soft, pale-blonde waves, and her makeup is light and shimmery. There’s a deep flush on her cheekbones, and her lips look wet and pink.
Overall, she looks unbelievable.
Briar notices me studying her and tugs my elbow. I dip so she can put her lips by my ear, gritting my teeth as her sweet scent washes over me. She smells like sugar and vanilla. It’s not the kind of perfume I’d expect a grown woman to pick out, and for some reason, that just makes it sweeter. She’s wandering around these events, glaring at people like a cold-hearted bitch, but her hair smells like cupcakes.
“Are you okay?” She murmurs, her lips brushing my skin.
I blink. “Yes. You?”
She nods.
“COME ON LOVEBIRDS!” One of the photographers roars. “GIVE US A KISS!”
“KISS HER! OVER HERE, FACE THIS WAY!”
“GIVE US A NICE SHOT OF YOU TOGETHER!”
Briar sighs against my neck. “That okay?”
“Sure,” I mutter, and she tilts her head, brushing her lips over mine. I hold still as the photographers whoop and cheer and snap away, trying to ignore the softness of her breasts and stomach against my body as she presses closer.
Far too soon, she pulls away, turning back to the crowd without a word. I close my eyes for a second, readjusting my pants to try and hide the growing issue between my legs.
My earpiece suddenly fizzes. “We have a problem,” Kenta mutters in my ear.
I frown, automatically coming to stand closer to Briar. She glances up at me as our bodies press together, licking her lips slightly. “You seen him?”
“No. But Colette just dinged me. X has posted on Princess’s social media pages.”
“That’s good. It’ll give the cyber team something to go off.”
“No,” Kenta says slowly. “He posted on her pages. He hacked into two of her accounts and posted as her.”
Shit.
Briar drifts a few feet away to get some solo shots, and I hook my phone out of my pocket, quickly navigating to one of her socials. My heart drops into my stomach. “The goddamn pervert,” I growl, staring at the stumpy, swollen penis on my phone screen. Underneath is a message:
Good evening, my darling. I love the lipstick you’re wearing tonight. I can’t wait until I finally get inside that pretty mouth. X
I glance around the carpet. Half of the reporters have their phones out. I see one journalist turn to her cameraman and point right at Briar. I’m not surprised. Every news station here will have alerts set up for when the stars post tonight.
There’s another roar from the photography pit as the next celeb walks out, and Julie hurries me and Briar off the carpet. Briar takes one look at my face and sighs. “It’s X, isn’t it?” She says flatly.
I nod.
She pushes forward, leaning over my arm to see my phone. When I pull it out of her view, she frowns, glaring at me. “Tell me. This is my safety we’re talking about. My body. I have a right to know if I’m in danger.”
I clear my throat. “X has hacked into your social media. He’s posted…” I grimace, “well, I suppose it’s a picture of his dick. It looks more like some kind of rare, diseased fungus.”
Underneath the layer of makeup, her face drains of colour. “What?” She whispers, grabbing at my phone. “How is that possible?”
“I really don’t think you want to look at that—”
She waves me off. “I get hundreds of dick pics every day,” she snaps. “I doubt it’s that impressive.” She snatches the phone off me and reads the message. Her jaw clenches. Red flushes up her neck, staining her cheeks.
“Briar,” I say softly, putting a hand on her back.
“He wants me to suck his dick?!” She screeches. “I won’t fucking suck it! I’ll bite it off and spit in the hole! I’ll flatten it out with a rolling pin and tie it into a fucking bow around his nuts!”
A couple of reporters turn around and stare at her.
“Shh,” I mutter, looking around. “Princess, people can hear.”
“I will not shh!” She shouts back at me. “If he wants to publicly humiliate me, I’m not going to keep my mouth shut and bloody smile! Get it off my page! Children follow me, for God’s sake!”
Julie puts a firm hand on her arm. “Calm down,” she orders, keeping her voice low. “Ignore it. It’s time for you to do the press line. We have thirty-five stations waiting for you.”
Briar squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. I can literally see her body trembling as she tries to swallow her emotions back down. The image of her crying on her sofa flashes in front of my eyes. I remember what she said that night.
No matter how much I wash my sheets, my bed feels dirty… I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. It’s like the walls are just closing in on me.
Shit.
Briar exhales slowly and opens her eyes. “Right,” she says softly. “Right. Okay.”
“Can you do it?” I murmur in her ear.
She shoots me an irritated look. “Of course I can do it,” she snaps. “You think some creep is going to stop me doing my job?”
And with that, she marches off after Julie towards the press line.
