Page 66 of Knot Their Starlet

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I answer, smoothing down my skirt after clicking my seatbelt in.

Elijah offers me a single nod in the rear-view mirror. I shift nervously, offering him a far more awkward nod in return.

“Could you go over the plan again, Leo?” Beck asks. “You always remember these things better than I do.”

“We’re headed to Musso & Frank’s,” Leo says, turning around in his seat to face us. “The paparazzi will be there. Our team gave them a tip. Your job will be to act like a happy couple. Don’t stop for any questions tonight. The plan is to leave them wanting more.”

“Does that go for physical affection, too?” I ask, picking at my cuticles nervously.

“She’s asking ‘cause she’s obviously dying to get her hands on me,” Beck teases, flashing me one of his winks.

I think I’m going to be rolling my eyes pretty often around him.

“You guys can cuddle up in the booth. The restaurant has a policy against photos, but I’m sure someone will break it. And if they don’t, Eli and I can always snap backup photos of you from ours. But save anything more for later,” Leo explains.

“Got it,” I nod, grateful for his straightforward nature. “I can do that.”

There’s a buzzing sort of anxiety that won’t leave and it only intensifies the closer we get to the restaurant. Despite my best attempts at controlling it, my scent still turns a little bitter.

“Hey, you okay?” Beck murmurs, leaning closer to me, his brows drawn down in concern.

“I’m okay,” I say, my lips pulling back in a tight line that’s supposed to be a smile. “Just a little nervous.”

“You’ll be okay,” Beck says, reaching across the middle seat to hold my hand. I’m overcome by the urge to scoot closer to him and tuck myself under his arm. It’s like the small taste of physical contact isn’t enough. My inner omega craves more.

The urge only gets worse when he brushes his thumb gently against my pulse point.

I don’t envy his and Elijah’s situation—at least emotionally—but man, would it be nice to have someone I could receive physical contact from living in my apartment. Especially someone who looks as good in a suit as Elijah does.

“We’re here,” Eli grunts, pulling into the parking lot.

I can see the crowd of paparazzi conversing together, some leaning against what I assume to be their own cars, some more eager ones ready and waiting with their cameras in hand, practically poised in front of their faces.

“You ready?” Beck murmurs.

I offer him a jerky nod, my eyes fluttering shut as I lock away all my anxieties into a little room at the back of my head.

“Ready.”

Elijah exits the car first, opening the door on Beck’s side. I follow quickly after, clinging to Beck’s extended hand as I’m assaulted by the blinding flashes of the cameras.

I can’t see.

I can’t fucking see anything.

My breath catches in my throat. I can feel phantom blood dripping into my eyes, the memory of the night at the Grammys woven into the fibers of my being.

I shouldn’t have worn these fucking strappy heels, because the one attempt I make at taking a step forward fails and I nearly stumble.

Beck pulls me into his chest, noticing instantly that I’m freaking the fuck out.

“I’ve got you, Andi.”

Unfortunately, the move just makes the paparazzi’s cameras flash even more. Their yells and calls out to us blend together into this one big, blinding monster.

And then the flashes dim.

I blink, shocked, as I stare into Beck’s crystalline eyes inches away from mine. His hands are cupped around our eyes, blocking out the rest of the world. I lift my own shaky hands to rest alongside his.