“Is it?” He leaned back with the tiniest of smiles, watching me from underneath slightly lowered lashes. Challenge accepted. His voice went dark and just a hint sweet, like quality chocolate. “What if I told you that I prepped myself earlier so I’m all nice and loose for you? And that as soon as we get out of here and into the car—maybe we’ll find a dark place to pull over and I can ride you in the back seat.”

  Holy shit, images. How his eyes went heavy when I pushed into him, the way his spine arched to take more of me. His choked groans, trying to be quiet even when I could tell he was tumbling towards the edge. How he pushed into my kisses, always, opened for me like it was instinct.

  I shifted in my chair, crossed my legs. Cleared my throat. “Uh. Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” His smile widened. “Still bored?”

  “If I said yes, would you keep going?”

  Frustratingly, the waiter reappeared right then with focaccia bread and olive oil. We thanked the guy, Cass seeming to bite his cheek against a laugh, and when we were alone again, the heavy pull of tension had cracked. A flicker of movement caught my eye—someone trying to sneak a photo of us. Cass glanced that way too, then returned his attention to me with a half-formed shrug. Yeah. This was why we were here, wasn’t it?

  I broke off a piece of bread, dipped it in olive oil, and savoured the crisp, fresh taste as our conversation moved from Cass’s hectic schedule for the next two weeks to my role as a mentor to young artists.

  “People like Cosma—we both know the industry’s ready to chew them up and spit them out,” I said. “I try to give them a fighting chance, help them set boundaries.”

  “Something no one did for us.” Cass’s voice blended in with the darkening sky, a waitress going around to light candles.

  “Yeah.” I ran a finger along the edge of my glass, then picked it up for a sip of water. “We survived. But we deserved better—and my acts do too.”

  “Can’t be easy,” he said. “The label must have their own ideas about what these kids should be doing.”

  “Yeah, well.” I paused as our starter arrived, both of us thanking the waiter in a murmur before I picked the thread back up. “They do, yeah, but they respect my input. Helped them sign some really good talent—artists I spotted, including two that had offers from other, bigger labels, but they went with me. So I’m not just a washed-up boybander with opinions anymore.”

  “‘Washed-up boybander’?” He grimaced. “Harsh, Lee.”

  “Not you, Cass. Obviously.” I flicked a crumb from the tablecloth. “Me, though? Yeah—I’ve got no illusions.”

  He exhaled and leaned forward, elbows on the table. Reflected candlelight danced along the bridge of his nose. “Could be me. If this doesn’t go well, if it turns out being a sex symbol was my biggest selling point and it doesn’t combine with being gay…”

  “Cass. Babe.” I pressed our knees together under the table and grabbed his hand on top of it, not meant as a performance. “You’re more than that. If that’s the kind of rubbish your team feeds you, fire them.” Something occurred to me, anger like lightning flashing in my gut. “Or is that your parents talking?”

  One side of his mouth hitched up, no humour in his eyes. “Not exactly. They don’t know I’m gonna do this.”

  Jesus. I’d always felt like I needed to hold back around them, could sense their undercurrent of disapproval, their hope that I was just a passing phase. But, fuck—I’d really like a word right now.

  “You’re more,” I repeated, firm. “You’re a brilliant musician, Cass. Trust me—I sign them for a living.”

  “You’re biased, though.” His small huff of laughter didn’t quite mask his uncertainty, the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes. I kept his hand clasped in mine, briefly listening to the pleasant murmur of tinkling glasses and low conversation around us.

  “I am,” I said then. “But so are your parents because they really like the money. Me? I just like you. So—who do you trust?”

  Finally, his eyes found mine. “You,” he said, low like a confession. “I trust you.”

  “Good.” I exhaled around the ache and held on for just a moment longer. Then I let go of his hand.

  We drove back along dark, winding roads, the silent villa waiting for us under a star-painted sky.

  I kissed him against the car, hand fumbling at his belt, the garage our hiding place. Bent him over the hood and fucked him—pretended that I was fine, this was fine, that I wouldn’t miss the taste of his smile or the rasp of his voice first thing in the morning.

  We weren’t meant to last. Not then, not now.

  CHAPTER 16

  Cass

  Porto Cervo, Saturday, August 30th

  My phone woke me.

  Ugh, why? It shouldn’t fucking do that—I always set it to silent at night. Unless…

  My heart gave a frantic thud. I sat up with a start, sleep ripped from my mind with the sudden jolt of an emergency brake. Which—emergency. Emergency contacts—if they called, it forced the ring through. Like Frank. Or my PR team.

  The phone was half-buried under last night’s discarded shirt, and I nearly fell out of bed trying to grab it. Levi grumbled some insult to my ancestry when I untangled myself from the sheets, his face smushed into the pillow. He’d never been a morning person, blamed his mum’s side of the family for it.

  Anyway. Phone.

  I squinted at the screen, still a bit bleary-eyed. Simone—my head of PR. Well, that was… not good. Surely she wasn’t calling just to rip me a new one about last night’s unauthorized dinner? Then again, I wouldn’t put it past her. Another buzz made Levi groan an “I will fucking end you, Cass.”

  “All right, all right. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

  “It’s knickers,” he muttered, dark and stubborn.

  I bit my cheek against a smile as I stepped into a pair of boxers, then slipped out of the room and into the hallway, tiles cool under my bare feet. The house lay silent when I accepted the call with a quiet, “Simone, hey.”

  “Cass. Good morning.” Her words were clipped. “I’m sorry to wake you, but we have a situation.”

  Well. All according to plan, wasn’t it? I rubbed at my eyes to knuckle the last vestiges of sleep out of them. Outside, distant birds bragged about how awake they were, or possibly about their sexual prowess. “You mean how Levi and I went out for dinner last night?” I asked. “Because, yeah. We got recognized, so I’m guessing there are pictures.”

  “There are. Social media is having a field day with them. You and I will have a chat about what constitutes a fair warning when you go off-script, and soon. However.” Her voice tightened. “The real issue is there are more pictures. Video, actually.”

  I leaned my shoulder against the wall, suddenly a little weak in the knees. “Video?”

  “From a store in Olbia you visited a few days ago.”

  It took a moment before it clicked. Fuck—the souvenir shop, filled with trinkets and sun hats and shrill shirts. The frilly pink bathing suit Emily loved. I closed my eyes, stomach knotting into a twisted bow, words staggering through my mind. “There was a camera?”

  “Yes. Someone leaked the surveillance footage.” Simone’s tone was gentler now, perhaps in reaction to my near-whisper. “People are connecting the dots—asking questions about who the little girl is, about Levi’s sister, everything.”

  ‘Emily stays out of it.’ It had been Levi’s one condition, the only thing he’d asked for—and now I’d messed it up. Hadn’t seen the camera, hadn’t thought to bring Frank into this silly, harmless shop. He would have spotted the surveillance setup, but no, I’d wanted to live like I didn’t have a care in the fucking world. And now Emily was caught in the net of it.

  “How bad is it?” I whispered, phone pressed to my ear.

  Simone sighed. “Bad enough. It’s trending. We may need a statement.”

  God. I forced a breath into my narrow lungs. “Right. I… Give me a minute. I need to talk to Levi.”

  “I’ll send you the link.” She hesitated. “I suggest we handle it fast, Cass. The longer we wait, the more the narrative spins out of control.”

  Nerves crackled in my chest. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call you back.”

  I hung up without waiting for a goodbye and then just stood there for a second, gathering myself. He’d walk, that’s what he’d said—the moment Emily became so much as a side note to an article, he’d walk, and he wouldn’t look back. But that had been… before. Before we fell back into… us.

  Right?

  Back in the room, Levi was stirring. Morning light picked out his lashes in gold, green eyes drowsy as he blinked up at me. “You all right?” he asked, husky with sleep.

  “Something happened.” I sat down on the edge of the bed, my gut cramped up like I was about to be sick. “Pictures from last night’s dinner—which, no surprise. But also… from that shop on Wednesday? Seems they had a surveillance camera. The footage leaked.”

  His eyes sharpened instantly. He pushed himself upright, shoulders taut, his hand gripping the sheet. “Video?”

  “Yeah.” My voice sounded small. “We—we should look at it, I guess.”

  He didn’t reply, just sat there staring at me, sheet bunched around his waist and in his hand. I opened the link Simone had sent, heart thudding almost painfully against my ribs, and scooted closer to him.

  The footage was grainy, angled from above the store’s main aisle. It showed the three of us—Emily tugging on my hand, me laughing at something Levi had said. I grabbed a feather boa and tossed it around his neck, and he leaned in, whispering something in my ear as I ducked my head, smiling. Intimate. And Emily right there, clutching her bathing suit like a treasure.

  Maybe, without last night’s dinner pictures to confirm our presence, it might not have gained traction. But if you knew who we were, it was pretty damn obvious.

  The comments made my stomach turn. People asking about Emily, questioning Levi’s family situation. Is that his daughter? Did he have a daughter right after NC? But she’s too old, isn’t she? So did he hide her all along? Then links to tabloids talking about Jessica’s death because when you were famous, private grief became a matter of public consumption.

  I barely dared to glance at Levi. His face was carved from stone, jaw set so tight it might fissure.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, voice rough. “If I’d realized there was a camera⁠—”

  “You promised,” he cut in, low and shaky. He turned his head, eyes hard, a twin set of marbles. “You fucking promised, Cass.”

  “Lee…” I tried to reach for him, and he jerked back.

  “Don’t fucking ‘Lee’ me.” The short syllables sliced through the air. “I told you Emily couldn’t be part of this. I trusted you to keep her safe. And now they’re talking about her, talking about Jess⁠—”

  “I know. I—this wasn’t the plan. I’m so sorry.” I ached all over, phone clenched in my fist when all I wanted was to touch him. “We can fix this. Make a statement—deny it’s her, say it’s a family friend…”

  “A family friend?” His laugh was harsh, almost cruel. “You think people are stupid? They know about Jess’s death, and there are old photos of me with her and Emily. I’ve managed to keep it quiet because I’m just not a big deal anymore. But now, with you? Fuck.” He tossed away the sheet and got out of bed. His naked back was a tense curve, head bent, facing away like he couldn’t stand even the sight of me.

  “We’ll figure something out.” I felt cold all over as I slowly, haltingly, got up and stood next to the bed. “We can get the attention off her, keep the bigger places from running the story—legal action, she’s a kid⁠—”

  “Stop. Just fucking stop.” He paced to the window, morning light cutting across the tense line of his shoulders. “I can’t do this, Cass.”

  “It’s not my fault.” I hated how defensive I sounded, glass shards in my lungs. “We didn’t know the camera was there. It’s just… bad luck.”

  “Bad luck?” His voice cracked. “Your whole fucking existence is bad luck for me. Christ. Last time, you broke my heart. This time, you drag Emily into the headlines. You just never fucking change, do you?”

  Wow. Okay, that just… that hurt. I inhaled, somehow tried to keep the bloodied mess of my chest and ribs together. “That’s not fair. I’m not the one who leaked it. I’ve been careful⁠—”

  “Careful?” he snapped, turning like a whiplash, his eyes too wide. “Yeah, sure. Booking that restaurant, posing for pictures—oh, right, that just screams careful, doesn’t it? Well, hey, you wanted to speed it up. And we all know that Cass gets what Cass wants.”

  “You said it was okay!” My eyes stung, bile sour at the back of my throat. “You were the one who suggested the dinner, the terrace thing and all. So don’t pin this all on me!”

  He pushed into my space, so close I almost missed the tremble in his hands. “Keep Emily out of it—that’s the one thing I asked of you. The one fucking thing.” His low voice shook just slightly. “I told you I’d help you pretend, let people think we’re… Didn’t matter how hard that was for me.”

  My heart lurched like a capsized ship. “Spending time with me was hard?”

  “Emily wasn’t supposed to be caught in this.” He sounded like he’d barely even heard me. “You and your bloody fame, you just—you said you’d protect her.”

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated, helpless. “I didn’t know.”

  He barked out another laugh, a little too high. “You never know, do you? That’s your fucking problem, right there. You show up, smile, promise me the world, promise it’ll all be fine—and when it goes to shit? You say sorry and move right the fuck on.”

  “That’s not true.” Faint anger sparked along my spine, mixed with something like panic, loss, heartbreak. Who even knew. “I’ve tried to do it right this time. I’ve told you over and over again how sorry I am—you told me to stop apologizing. And I’ve never moved on. I still want…”

  You. I still want you.

  “You’re a global superstar, Cass—just like you always wanted.” His voice rose, consonants razor-sharp. “Millions of fans who think you walk on water. What more could you possibly want?”

  I stared at him, fractured thoughts like the twist of a kaleidoscope. “That’s what you think of me?”

  “Give me a reason, Cass. Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t.”

  Inches and continents separated us, half-naked in this room that I’d thought was ours, his bruises on my skin where he’d held on too tight last night. He wanted a reason? I took a step back and shook my head—not in denial but to clear it. Didn’t work. “I’m still in love with you,” I said quietly. “That’s my reason.”

  Something dark crossed his face, like fleeting pain. Then he snorted, eyes cold. “Oh, come on. Five years, and I didn’t hear from you. Not a word. Not until you were ready to come out, and you needed a story and someone to write it with. Congrats, you got it.”

  Was the ground shaking? I fought to steady my voice. “That’s not true, and you know it.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He took a deep breath and tipped up his chin, a strange, calm precision to his words. “You broke my heart once. I’m not stupid enough to fall for you again. It was sex, a bit of fun. You’re a good lay, but that’s it.”

  No.

  “I don’t believe you.” I almost choked on air, staggered back as if he’d slapped me. Thought about reminding him of... of what? How he’d once told me I was the only boy he’d ever love? “You’re lying. I know you, Levi. I can see that you’re⁠—”

  “Get the fuck out,” he interrupted me, an unfamiliar rasp in his voice. “I mean it.”

  Pressure welled hot behind my eyes, and God, this was—it felt like that awful, final year of the band when we’d pushed and clawed at each other, words like knives. I wouldn’t sink that low again. “Please don’t do this.”

  For the blink of an eye, something shifted in his stance—a faint give, an opening, as though he intended to reach for me. My heart was trying to hammer its way out of my chest.

  Then he took a sudden step back. His shoulders stiffened, voice crisp and clean. “Get out, Cass. We’re done.”

  So. This was how it felt to finally grow up.

  I clenched my teeth against the feverish prick of tears, turned, and grabbed my clothes from the floor—jeans, shirt. Dressed in numb silence, fingers shaking just the slightest bit. All the while, he watched in stoic silence, not a muscle moving in his face, the only difference to a statue in the rise and fall of his chest.

  Wallet. Phone.

  I stopped on the threshold. He’d given me no reason to linger, and still I couldn’t… Just—one more try. I had nothing left to lose.

  “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” The words tasted raw, metallic. “I never meant to hurt you or Emmy. It’s the last thing I wanted. And I didn’t use you to spin some story—if anything, it was an excuse to spend time with you.”

  He said nothing, expression blank. I waited a half-second, hoping for something, anything.

  And then I left.

  I called Frank from the driveway, once I realized I had no car, no suitcase. At least my passport was with him. The rest? Didn’t even matter.

  “Can you get me?” I asked once he picked up.

  “Already?” His voice was sleepy. “The flight’s not until⁠—”

  “I’ll wait outside the gate.” I ran a hand through my hair, eyes burning. “Just—come get me? Please.”

  He paused for a second. “Okay, give me five minutes. But please wait inside the gate.”

  “Thanks, Frank.”

  Whatever he heard in my voice softened his tone to a reassuring murmur. “I’ll be right there, Cass. All right?”

  “Okay.” I hung up and simply stood there for a moment, blinking into the bright sun, the sky achingly blue. Gravel crunched under my sneakers once I started moving, one foot in front of the other.

 

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