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Jace turned to find Krystal headed his way. Seeing her tilted chin and defiant posture made him ache. He knew why she did that tonight—why she always did that. Better to keep everyone at arm’s length than risk letting someone close again. After the hurt she’d suffered, it made sense.
But treating him like the rest of the world hurt like a son of a bitch.
With her body-hugging suede dress, fringes swinging around her thighs, her long blond hair hanging free, and boots reflecting the backstage floor lights, she was Krystal King—music icon. But when she was close enough for him to see her, the brutal reminder of her attack dark on her face, she was simply the woman he loved. Fierce and defiant. Strong and smart. Fragile and damaged. Outspoken and timid. All scrambled up inside.
“You’re staring.” She smiled up at him, uneasy.
“Have you seen how incredible you look?” He leaned forward, brushing her cheek with his lips. Maybe the crowds and the chaos would work in his favor. When they were “pretending” she seemed happier than when they were alone—like she needed the audience to let herself have this connection with him. “Beautiful.”
“You look pretty good yourself. This is better.” She reached up and unsnapped another button. “Give them a tease.”
Sawyer, Krystal’s constant shadow, sighed loudly. But they both ignored him.
He glanced down at the amount of skin and tattoo showing and shot her a look. “I’m not sure I want to be eyed like a piece of meat.
”
“Oh, you do, trust me.” Travis nodded.
Krystal’s smile faded, her gaze on the dip in his shirt.
He reached up to snap it closed, but she stopped him.
“Enjoy it.” She pointed up and down his body. “Travis would be more than happy to introduce you around.” Her gaze locked with his. “Until then, remember, this is a big night, Jace. You want to make the biggest impression you can. Wheelhouse isn’t the only record label out there, you know. Options are good.”
“She’s got you there.” Travis shook his head. “Play it safe, and lose the shirt. But wear the hat.”
Krystal was laughing.
Emmy poked her head around one of the curtains. “Are you coming?” she called to Travis. “Come on.” She smiled. “Break a leg, you two.”
Travis trotted toward Emmy, dodging a sound tech and a tangle of cords as he went.
They walked onto the stage, but their rehearsed banter was loud enough to hear backstage.
“Hey, Trav, any idea who’s up next?” Emmy started their introduction. “I think the name sounds familiar.”
The audience laughed.
“I’m not going out with Travis.” Jace leaned in. “Wouldn’t that go against the whole committed relationship thing?”
Krystal rolled her eyes. “Fine. Work on your discretion.”
Travis was up now. “Yeah. You’re right. Very familiar.” Pause.
Jace shook his head. Now wasn’t the time or place for this conversation but, dammit, there were things that needed to be said.
“Right. I remember now.” Travis snapped his fingers. “He won that television show. Jace Black.”
A couple of whistles and a few screams.
Krystal looked up at him, then the dip in his shirt.
Emmy continued. “Um, Travis.” She waited until the laughing died down. “I was talking about our sister? My twin? Krystal King?”
He felt Krystal stiffen, waiting for some backlash from her impending televised interview. Her accusations would have a ripple effect over the entire industry. There was no guarantee how tonight would go.
But the audience was clapping. A few fans screamed. Maybe not thunderous applause but a whole hell of a lot better than nothing.
