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“Ma’am.” Jameson bows slightly toward me once more, then turns, making his way to the opposite side of the royal box, sitting in the row directly behind my grandmother and father, beside none other than Silas Archer.
The hairs on my nape stand on end when I notice Silas’ gaze directed on me with a peculiar intensity. I try to brush it off, reassure myself it’s being back in this life that’s stirring up old emotions inside me. Still, something about all of this seems off.
“This way, Your Highness,” one of the ushers assigned to the royal box says.
I force a smile, Tristan’s hand never leaving my back as the usher shows us to our seats. Just my luck, we’re in the front, across the short aisle from my grandmother and father. I have no doubt it was intentional. A way to guarantee everyone sees me.
Normally, this is where my brother sits. Where heshouldbe sitting right now.
I glance behind me, meeting Anderson’s gaze.
“It’s fine, Ezzy,” he answers my question before I can ask it. Then he leans closer. “It’ll be easier for me to nod off and no one notice.”
I laugh, about to turn back around, when a movement catches my eye. A tall, muscular man slips inside the box, his tuxedo clinging to his body, emphasizing his physique in all the right places. If it fit him any more perfectly, it would be illegal.
Sure, Tristan fills out his tux quite nicely. But it’s nothing compared to the way Creed Lawson looks right now.
His dark hair is slightly more overgrown than it was all those years ago, but he still keeps it neatly groomed. A dark stubble grazes his jawline, bringing forward memories of the pleasure I experienced as he explored every inch of my body with his lips. But what sets my heart racing is the way his eyes pierce my soul.
I know for a fact he’s not supposed to look at me. His role is to keep his attention trained everywhere else, spot potential threats before they can cause harm. But that doesn’t stop him from staring at me with a hint of something. Hunger perhaps?
Or maybe I just wish he’d peer at me the way he once did.
“You okay?”
I quickly tear my eyes from Creed and turn around, meeting Tristan’s concerned gaze.
“Of course.” I flash him a nervous smile.
“You can talk to me.” He takes my hand in his, running his thumb over my knuckles, reminding me how understanding he is. How compassionate he is. “I can only imagine how difficult it is to be around him again. All the memories it must bring back.”
My lips part, but no response comes.
Did he pick up on something the other day when I briefly introduced him to Creed? I didn’t think we were that obvious, especially Creed. He was…aloof. Unnervingly so. Still, if anyone’s able to notice even the slightest change in my mood, it’s Tristan. Five years together will do that.
“You don’t have to hide your feelings around me,” Tristan assures me with more sympathy than I probably deserve. “I can handle it. I understand how…trying it may be to run into an ex again.”
“He’s not an ex. He—”
“Not an ex? Most people might be able to make that argument, but your relationship with Jameson Gates was front page news for several months.”
I briefly close my eyes, shoulders falling out of relief that he wasn’t talking about Creed. Of course he wasn’t. But my mind instantly went to him.
It always does, even all these years later.
“I guess it felt more like we were putting on a spectacle than anything else, especially with all the cameras and reporters following our every move.” I look forward just as the curtain rises, revealing the elaborate set ofAida.
“Just promise that won’t become us.”
“What do you mean?”
He stares at our joined hands for a beat before lifting his eyes.
“Promise you won’t let this world tear us apart like it did you and Jameson. You two were together for nearly a year before you finally went public with your relationship. Once you did, it ended mere weeks later.” He moves his free hand to my cheek, urging my mouth toward his. “I don’t want that to be us. Don’t want to lose you to all of this.”
A lump lodges in my throat at the despair in his voice. It feels like an utter betrayal not to tell him the truth. That the story he saw on the news was a complete fabrication. But living this lie is better than admitting the truth.
“You won’t.” I force my lips into a smile. “I promise. What we have is infinitely better than what I shared with him.”
