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  “There,” he said triumphantly as he deposited me at the bar, right in front of Gabe.

  Gabe stopped talking to the bartender and his face lit up, those gray eyes flaring in the dim light. “Hey.”

  “Hi. Sorry. Damon insisted and I wasn’t going to bother you until after—”

  Damon huffed again and thrust me toward Gabe so I overbalanced into his chest.

  “There. That’s better. You know where I’ll be,” Damon said, and disappeared back into the crowd.

  I attempted to step back, but Gabe’s hands found my waist and he held onto me. “Hey,” he said again. It was hard to hear him in the packed space but I could feel his laughter reverberate through me.

  “Hey,” I said, suddenly shy. I cast a self-conscious glance around us.

  Gabe’s hot breath tickled my ear as he bent down to speak to me. “Don’t worry. No one is interested in us. It’s all about Johnnie and Levi. See?”

  I shifted and saw his bandmates standing further along the bar. Gosh, he was right. The crowd only had eyes for the lead singer and guitarist.

  “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. Trust me.” His hands were still on my hips.

  “It still doesn’t seem right,” I persisted. “You’re just as much a part of Gypsy Hour as they are. How does Emilio feel about it?”

  Gabe shrugged. “It suits him too, believe me.”

  “Well, I thought you were wonderful tonight.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I know you do.”

  Oh. Oh. When he looked at me like that I was grateful he was holding onto me.

  “Want to hear something funny?” he said.

  Funny? The way my body was tingling with awareness at his closeness didn’t seem funny to me.

  He gave me a lopsided grin. “I once jogged around the stadium before a show and no one noticed me.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I ran right past the lines of people waiting to get in and they didn’t see me.”

  My mouth fell open and I shoved his shoulder. “You did not!”

  “I did.”

  “But that’s so dangerous!”

  “Hardly. Not when you’re me.”

  “What if they had noticed you and then you wouldn’t have any security staff or anything.”

  “They weren’t going to notice me.”

  The humor in his eyes disappeared.

  “Sing for me,” I blurted.

  Gabe’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  “I love your voice,” I said more softly. “I’d love to hear you sing again. Not now, obviously. But another time.”

  He reached up and brushed a curl away from my forehead. “I could say the same for you.”

  “You’d like to hear me sing?”

  “Very much.”

  His lips brushed mine and I closed my eyes. It was just a whisper of a touch, and I wondered how something that felt so right could leave me feeling so unsteady.

  “Perhaps you could do a duet.”

  My eyes flew open at the snap of a camera phone.

  Her. It was her. That woman. The one with the big mouth and tiny dress.

  I froze.

  Gabe set me gently to one side. “Yeah, not a bad idea, but hey—that image you just took? Would you mind deleting it?”

  The woman smirked. “Why would I want to do that?”

  “Seems to me it would be the polite thing to do seeing as we don’t know each other.” He was all casual charm.

  “Oh, I know you, don’t worry.” She checked the image she had just taken on her phone and then dropped it into her bag.

  “You!” I managed.

  Her smirked deepened. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” She held out her hand. “Tanya Symons, reporter for E-tainment News.”

  I ignored her outstretched hand. “How did you get in?”

  “I have connections.”

  Her smirk was really starting to annoy me. If it wasn’t for the obvious Botox, I was certain she’d have deep lines from the self-satisfied bitch expression.

  “Nice to meet you,” Gabe said smoothly. “Look, I appreciate you’ve got a job to do, but I’m going to ask you again to delete that image.”

  “Ask all you like. It’s not going to happen.” Tanya snapped her bag shut and went to walk away.

  Gabe caught her arm and her lip curled in a silent snarl. “Let me go, drummer boy.”

  He released her and stepped back, all signs of the easygoing guy gone. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

  “Have fun with that. This is a public place.”

  She flicked her straight blond hair over her shoulder as she turned away and I stared at her back in dismay.

  Unexpected rage surged in my chest, hot and choking. For a brief second I didn’t know what to do with it. I wasn’t used to feeling like this. Angry and out of control—and then I remembered. I wasn’t nice anymore. I didn’t have to be the good girl. In fact, that night in my trailer, Faith had shared too many cold, hard Hollywood truths for me to ever want to be nice again.

  I slipped past Gabe. “Hey, bitch.”

  The people around us paused their conversations and I saw plenty of eyes widen when they recognized who I was.

  Tanya stopped, but didn’t turn around. “What did you call me?”

  I had the irrational urge to tip her over on her teetering black heels, but I had something better up my sleeve.

  “You heard what I said. I can say it again if you like. Bitch.”

  This time she did turn around and her expression was like the cat that got the cream.

  “Chloe.” Gabe said my name like a warning.

  “I got this, Gabe.”

  Two lines formed between his eyes. Even I was surprised by my authoritative tone. In my peripheral vision I saw Viktor lurking in the shadows, and I shot him a back-off look, too.

  “But stay here,” I said more gently.

  I waited as Tanya strolled back to us, green eyes flashing with malice. “This will make quite a story.”

  “That’s what you want, isn’t it? A story?” I was using my stage voice now, projecting from abdomen so my words could be heard all around the room.

  She stopped in front of me. “You’re making it very easy.” Glee creased the corners of her eyes where she hadn’t had work yet. Give her a few more years and she would.

  “Am I?”

  “Oh yeah, real easy.”

  I held my arms out and the people surrounding us moved back. It reminded of the musical film I’d worked on where the dancers circled the cast before they broke out into song.

  “You want a story. I’ll give you a damn story.” I clapped my hands above my head, one loud, no-nonsense clap. “Everybody get your camera phones out!”

  The wide-eyed crowd remained still, the silence echoing their disbelief.

  “You heard me! Get your phones out and get ready!”

  Tanya put her hands on her hips, clearly amused. Beneath her veneer of self-assuredness, I also saw something else: wariness.

  “What? Are you going to hit me?” she sneered.

  Oh, that would be so much fun, but I’d been raised by a classy Southern woman who knew the importance of keeping the media eating out of her hand.

  “Better. Get ready everyone.”

  I turned to Gabe and met his eyes. I read amazement in them and maybe some of that same wariness. Satisfaction settled over me. I liked feeling powerful and sure of myself.

  I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “I’m going to kiss you now. Is that OK?”

  He chuckled in reply, low and seductive so only I could hear. “I’d like that a lot.”

  “Excellent. Let’s make it a good one.”

  I kissed him deeply, my body pressed hard against him. The room exploded into a series of flashes as almost everyone in the crowd held up their phones and snapped pictures of us.

  I didn’t care that my tongue was d
own his throat or his hands were on my ass. It felt good to show the world how much feeling I had for this remarkable man, who didn’t seem to be aware of quite how remarkable he was.

  After about thirty seconds—I couldn’t be exactly sure of how long it was because even kissing Gabe in front of a room full of people I was still capable of losing myself—I pulled away.

  With a self-satisfied smile I waved to the crowd. “Thanks so much. Now feel free to share it with your friends on social media. Or your favorite news channel. Whatever. And yes, that’s Gabriel da Silva, the drummer in Gypsy Hour, that I just kissed. We’re kind of a thing.”

  Laughter and exclamations filled the room.

  I turned back to Tanya with the sweetest of smiles. “Good luck with that story, Tanya. I hope it goes well for you.”

  Chapter 23

  “Cut!”

  I winced at Malcolm’s command, impatience giving his voice a sharp edge.

  “Can we get make-up? Now!”

  He waved in the general direction of my face as Kelly strode toward me. “Deal with the dark circles.”

  I blinked and Faith caught my eye, raising an eyebrow.

  This morning it felt like I had the worst hangover—except I hadn’t even been drunk last night. I’d been lucky to have four hours sleep though.

  In a perfect world, after my big girl, Wonder Woman moment in front of the crowd at The Sayers Club, Gabe and I would have continued our amazing night—alone.

  Unfortunately, Viktor whisked me out of there just after midnight as if he expected me to turn into a pumpkin. I’d spent half an hour with Gabe if I was lucky. In a crowded room where everyone was watching us. Admittedly, the attention was kind of my fault because after you locked lips with a rock star and suggested they take pictures of you, that’s what you got.

  I tilted my head and let Kelly apply more concealer beneath my eyes.

  When she was done, Malcolm grimaced. “Right, now you look awake. How about acting like it?”

  I saw Faith’s dark eyes flare with anger, but I ignored her. Malcolm might not be my favorite director, but he had a point. I’d been off my game this morning.

  I chose not to reply and just nodded, ready to do the take again.

  Today we were shooting a scene in the office of Faith’s character, Samantha. We only had a couple more weeks in LA and then we would be heading to Europe for a month to film the action scenes.

  I wasn’t going to think about that this morning. Or the fact that Gabe would be going on tour at roughly the same time.

  Much to my relief, we managed to shoot the next scene smoothly this time. I was attempting to convince Samantha that my character, Ivy, had uncovered something unusual. I felt that I had achieved just the right amount of enthusiasm and self-belief.

  “OK, let’s do it again,” Malcolm announced.

  Faith and I shared a look.

  “Anything particular you want that you didn’t get last take?” Faith asked.

  Malcolm shot her a wry smile. “You were perfect. It’s Chloe.”

  My stomach twisted and I desperately wished I’d had more than just a coffee for breakfast.

  “Maybe I can help?” Faith suggested.

  She really wasn’t as tough as everyone made out and I felt grateful she was in this scene with me.

  “Not likely.” He came closer to us, his hands on his hips. It made no sense that he was threatening. Malcolm wasn’t particularly well-built and he was average in every way: average height, average build and average brown hair. I was pretty sure he wasn’t even forty yet, but the woolen jumpers he paired with his jeans made him look a good ten years older.

  His cool, light-blue eyes regarded me. “Chloe, can you do us a favor and drop the sweet act once and for all?”

  I stared at Malcolm, not quite sure I had heard correctly.

  He sighed. “It’s too incongruous with your public persona now. People aren’t going to believe it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Stop it! Stop being so goddamn nice!”

  I flinched. “I’m sorry, Malcolm. I know I haven’t been at my best this morning, but I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Drop the polite act, will you? It’s not necessary and I don’t want to see it in your performance either.”

  “But, but—”

  “But, but,” he mimicked. “Chloe, your character has balls. She’s just discovered something truly revolutionary that no one has ever come across before and now she has to convince her professor to believe in her. I don’t want girlish enthusiasm. I want passion.”

  I nodded quickly. Deep down, I knew I was beginning to dislike Malcolm’s directing style, but I was professional enough to realize he had a point.

  “OK,” I said more firmly this time. “Let’s try it again.”

  He clapped his hands together. “Passion, Chloe. I want to see the same passion and confidence that had you dry humping that guy for the whole world to see.”

  I froze, unable to comprehend what I had just heard.

  “What did you say?” Faith demanded.

  “Relax,” Malcolm shot back. “I’m pretty sure Chloe was aware of what she was doing when that picture was taken. It’s all over the media. At her request.”

  I swallowed the nausea that tasted too much like the coffee I had hurriedly drunk earlier. The decision to stand up to the horrible reporter didn’t seem quite so smart anymore.

  “Funny,” Faith said. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

  “Bullshit, Faith Martin. You got the leading role in one of the most successfully rating crime series because in your twenties you showed the world you had balls by sleeping with whoever you pleased.”

  “I don’t agree.” Faith’s reply was quiet, almost dangerous.

  “You’re not her mother,” Malcolm snapped. “Let her screw around if she wants. She needs to learn what she does off-screen affects the way she’s perceived on-screen. For this scene, I want to see more of that passion. The audience will love it.”

  Faith met my eyes again and I shook my head imperceptibly. I didn’t need her to fight my battles—although it was nice to have her on my side.

  “Malcolm,” I said when he turned back to me. “I’ll give you all the passion you want for this movie, but what I choose to do when we’re not filming is none of your business. Have you got that?”

  For a split second, shock registered on his face and then he broke into a wide grin. “Perfect! That’s my girl! That’s the passion I want. Let’s put this scene to bed.” He winked at me and I resisted a shudder. “No pun intended.”

  ON THE RIDE HOME I finally had the chance to check my messages.

  G: How was your day?

  Long. Don’t ask.

  G: That bad?

  Where to even start? Maybe I was tired, but for once, my positive attitude eluded me. I typed a reply:

  Maybe you should try going out with someone who is not a movie star.

  G: But that would be boring.

  An ache I didn’t know had been there all day suddenly opened up. I missed him. It seemed impossible when I’d barely had the opportunity to get to know him, but it was true.

  Boring might be better than being front-page news.

  G: You forget: I’ve never been front-page news before. It’s nice.

  You haven’t seen my Twitter feed.

  I’d scanned it between takes earlier and it had done nothing to improve my mood. A lot of fans were supportive of my new-found confidence, but others were not—nor were they supportive of my taste in men.

  G: Yeah, I had a quick look because I was bored. Much the same as mine.

  Oh no, really?

  I rested my head against the back of the seat, completely exhausted. Some of my fans had even gone so far as to express their disappointment in me. They thought I’d had morals. Virtue. Apparently kissing Gabe had changed their opinion of me. I was no longer sweet, likable Chloe. Now I had expressed my sexuality I was dangerous a
nd not worthy of their admiration. God, if only they knew I hadn’t even had sex yet! The whole situation would be laughable if it wasn’t so depressing.

  G: Don’t worry about it.

  Um, it’s kind of my job to because they’re my fans.

  G: Then don’t take it so seriously. You have a right to live your life how you want. Besides, they don’t know you. Not really.

  I stared at Gabe’s message for a while, the glow from the street lights flickering across the screen. His advice made sense, but it didn’t necessarily make it any easier. As for his suggestion that my fans didn’t know the real Chloe Kemp—I wasn’t too sure who she was anymore. But I did know one thing I wanted. I hit reply.

  Good point. When can we see each other again?

  Chapter 24

  “Maybe I do love my brother after all.”

  Gabe watched me intensely. “Yeah, we definitely owe him one.”

  It was difficult, but I tore my gaze from him. Damon had come through for us, big time.

  It was another late night and I’d been filming all day, but I wasn’t tired. How could I be when we had an entire exclusive restaurant to ourselves?

  My loving feelings extended toward Harry and Mila, too. It was too awesome for words that they’d agreed to host a private dinner for Gabe and I after they’d closed for the night. Harry was cooking our meals personally and Mila seemed quite happy serving us despite the late hour.

  When I’d pushed her on it, she’d told me they were used to late shifts, and it would give her the opportunity to get some bookwork done, too.

  “This place is amazing,” I said. I loved the ambience of the space. It was all deep reds and blacks with splashes of lime green thrown in. Intimate and seductive, much like the food we’d been served if the appetizer was any indication.

  “Company’s not bad, either.”

  I smiled shyly as I met Gabe’s eyes again. “Agreed. I’m sorry it’s so late, but I wasn’t sure when I’d get to see you again. Thankfully I’m not due on-set until later in the morning and—”

  “Chloe.” He returned my smile. “Relax.”

  I blew out a long breath. Gabe was right. I’d been running on adrenaline for what seemed like weeks now.