The tightness in my chest subsides as her soothing voice fills in the space. She takes the reins with the media, guiding me through the next set of questions. Every step we take toward the hotel ballroom, I feel more and more at ease, but I’m not sure if it’s her media prowess or the fact that she’s on my arm.
As we finish the last set of interviews, I can’t stop staring at how fucking beautiful she is. I know there are more cameras inside—Matt’s film circus is waiting—but right here, with her, I feel safe.
As we step into the lobby, the noise from the red carpet outside fades away. The energy sinks into something a little more manageable.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I’m just not good with the media.”
She steps a little closer to me. “The media isn’t the enemy, Oliver.”
“They make up shit all the time.”
“They make up stories where there isn’t one,” she corrects, soft but firm. “I’ve spent years doing this. If you give them nothing, they’ll fill in the gaps with what they want, what they think can sell.”
“So, you’re saying I should open up more?”
“I’m saying,” she says, drawing out the words, “they just want to see what’s real. They want authenticity. If they can’t see that, they make up their ownversion of who you are.” She smiles at me. “Don’t let them do that to you. You are an incredible person, Oliver. Let them see that.”
“Oi, Bradshaw!” Carlos yells, barreling down from the red carpet, his arm slung around the shoulder of a woman I don’t recognize. “Looking sharp.”
Sebastian follows closely behind, his date on his arm as well.
Brennan walks in, hand in hand with his wife, and it feels good to have another adult in the room. The lads continue to filter in, chatting and laughing, each one with a spouse or date on their arm. They’re all ready to have a good time and raise some money for charity.
Addison leans in to whisper something to Pippa, and their eyes flick to me at the same time. This ballroom is filled with people, and Pippa is the only one who knows what’s going on between Addison and I.
The bar area is buzzing with noise, laughter, and clinking glasses. Everyone’s trying to grab a drink before dinner. Addison stands next to me at one end of the bar, both of us waiting for our drinks. She leans one elbow on the counter, the slit in her gown pulling just enough to show a glimpse of her thigh, and I’m fucking ruined.
I can’t stop staring at her. But then something catches my eye. The London Eye necklace I gave her for Christmas. She wears it every day, but something about here, at this event, feels different. It feels intentional, whether she knows it or not. She could have worn anything more glamorous tonight, and yet, she chose this. Her fingers play with the chain absentmindedly as she chats with me.
“Oliver,” she says, her voice quiet. “Why didn’t you bring a date tonight?”
“I didn’t want to,” I say quickly.
“But… you told me you always bring a date so you don’t have to do the media thing alone.”
“I know.” It’s always been part of my routine. Show up with someone, push them in front of the cameras, then go home. Tonight is different. “I didn’t want to do that in front of you. I didn’t want to be here with anyone but you.”
She exhales softly, and for a second I see something flicker across her face before she tamps it down. “But we’re—”
“I know,” I say, stopping her from pointing out the obvious. I know what we are. I know the only thing she’ll allow us to be. But I still don’t feel right bringing someone else to this event.
“You know I can’t sit with you at dinner, right?” she says, voice low and hesitant.
“I know,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“There’s just so many eyes here. So much media. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”
“The wrong idea?” I echo. “Like, that we’ve been fucking each other for months in secret?”
I’m not angry, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a sting in my chest. I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of pretending and keeping secrets like what we have isn’t real.
“Oliver,” she says, tilting her head at me, like she’s reminding me of how many eyes are on us tonight. I know the optics. I know her rules.
“Fine,” I murmur, a slow smile tugging at my mouth. I lean in just close enough that only she can hear me. “I won’t sit next to you, but you’re not getting off that easy.”
I followher to the table, and though my hand itches to hold hers, I play by her rules and keep it clenched at my side. She sits down next to Luke, and then I make my move. I slide into the chair directly across from her, a small thrill running through me. Addison looks at me, surprised. She can’t even hide her reaction. She sits up straighter, smooths down her dress, looking at me with a mischievous grin.
If I can’t sit next to you and touch you, you better believe I’m going to fuck you with my eyes all night.
