But the expected pain never came. I landed in a solid embrace. Familiar cologne surrounded me completely.
Richard.
His other hand had already seized the cap man's reaching arm, twisted hard. A scream of agony followed.
Richard's voice came from above my head. "Secure them. Don't let a single one go."
Black-suited, powerfully built men appeared from nowhere, instantly subduing the stage rushers, pinning them down. The whole thing took under ten seconds.
Chaos continued below, but the onstage threat was neutralized.
I trembled in Richard's arms, still shaken.
The instant terror and the slight cramping in my abdomen when I'd been grabbed left me cold with sweat.
"It's over." His voice rumbled low in my ear, arms tightening with undeniable protection. "Keep your head down. Don't let the cameras see your face."
Only then did I realize countless flashes were going off on us. The mask was still on, but the struggle had knocked it askew,exposing most of my face. My hands had instinctively covered my abdomen, clearly looking pregnant. All of it was exposed to cameras.
Oh God.
"Clear the scene. Find out who sent them. I want names, backgrounds, and every dollar trail. Twenty minutes." After giving orders, Richard ignored the mess below and the flashing cameras. He half-carried, half-supported me offstage, moving quickly toward the backstage entrance.
The whole way, he shielded me completely from approaching people and cameras.
Emma rushed over, face pale. "Natalie! Are you okay? God, what just..."
"Hospital." Richard cut her off, tone brooking no argument. "Get a car. Now."
"Hospital? I don't need..." I wanted to say I was just scared, but before I finished, intense dizziness slammed into me.
Richard's tense jawline and Emma's pale face began spinning, blurring, melting like watercolor paint. All sounds—his breathing, distant commotion, my own panicked heartbeat—rapidly receded, like through thick glass.
In the last instant before darkness swallowed my vision, I saw something on Richard's usually composed face I'd never seen before.
Was it worry?
I didn't know.
Chapter Eighteen
Richard
The smell of disinfectant invaded every corner. I sat by the hospital bed, knuckles white with tension, my mind a storm of irritation.
When Natalie collapsed in front of me, it was the first time in my life I'd felt real panic and fear.
I'd never been this scared before.
I scooped her up and rushed into the hospital, clearing out the entire VIP floor for doctors. I stared at the jumping lines on the monitors, each blip yanking at my nerves—this out-of-control feeling sucked, but I was powerless against Natalie.
That's when David called.
"Sir, we've got it. The ones stirring up the chaos at the event were three professional hate-mongers, hired by some indie singer named Liam Cole. He tried snagging a spot on the same stage as Nightingale last year but bombed. The online smears mostly came from two tabloids, backed by Stellaris Records. They're pushing a newbie whose style overlaps with Nightingale's, sees her as a threat."
"By tomorrow, every one of them leaves the U.S. penniless," I growled through gritted teeth.
People I'd never even heard of daring to mess with Natalie—I didn't need to lift a finger myself to crush them. A little cash to some thugs, and they'd all be gone.
