Page 43 of Her Nightshade

I suppressed a giggle, biting down on my lip as I met his gaze. His green eyes burned with a dark intensity, in a way that only I seemed to be able to ignite. I felt my cheeks flush, but his words worked—my nerves began to fade, replaced by the thrill of being with him, of beinghis.

As the car pulled up to the venue, the roar of the crowd hit us, muffled only slightly by the windows. Flashes of light exploded outside, capturing every movement. I could feel the weight of the attention, the knowledge that every step, every glance, every whispered word between us would be scrutinized.

The door opened and Charlie stepped out first, smoothing his suit before turning back to offer me his hand. His grip wasstrong as he helped me out of the car. As I stood, the crowd’s energy doubled. Their shouts became louder, more frantic, and I knew that we were the cause.

Charlie wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close as we began our walk down the carpet. He whispered low for only me to hear, although the roar of the crowd would drown out most conversation.

“You’re fucking stunning. You’re mine, Ana. Always.”

His words enveloped my body in goosebumps, but I maintained my composure, plastering on a serene smile for the cameras. His hand stayed on my waist, a physical reminder of his claim on me, and I realized that despite everything, I felt safe.

Inside the venue, the air buzzed with excitement. Charlie kept me close, never letting go of my hand as he navigated the sea of celebrities and flashing cameras with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before. For me, it was dizzying, overwhelming, but his presence calmed me in the storm.

We took our seats at a table near the front, and the show began. The performances, the speeches, the applause—it all blurred together. I was hyper-aware of Charlie, of the cameras on us, of his hand not once leaving my thigh or hand.

And then, the moment came.

“Album of the Year,” the presenter announced, her voice booming through the microphone. The crowd hushed in anticipation. My stomach tightened as the nominees’ names were read aloud.

“And the Grammy goes to…Charlie Ashford!”

The crowd erupted into cheers and I felt Charlie’s hand tug me up as he stood, the glow of triumph radiating from him. He turned to me, pulling me into a tight hug, before giving me a quick, gentle kiss. We hadn’t talked about the level of PDA we’dshow, but I knew with how possessive he felt, he’d show off whenever he could.

“I love you,” he murmured after his lips left mine.

Then he was gone, making his way to the stage, shaking hands and exchanging smiles as the applause thundered around us. I sat back down and watched him, pride swelling in my chest, but also something else—anxiety. Charlie was unpredictable and I had no idea what he would say in his speech.

He reached the stage, holding the gold trophy in his hand, and the crowd slowly quieted.

“This is…wow,” Charlie began as he leaned into the microphone, his voice steady despite the tears in his eyes. “This award means the world to me and there are so many people I need to thank. My team, my fans…” He began listing names I didn’t know of and I was briefly relieved.

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd until it landed squarely on me.

“And Ana.”

My heart stopped.

“This woman right here,” he continued, his voice growing softer. “She’s my inspiration, my anchor, my everything. Ana, I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life.”

The room fell silent, his words lingering in the air. All eyes turned to me and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. My chest tightened as I fought to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I was a storm of emotions.

He loved me. On live television. In front of millions.

Charlie smiled, his signature grin lighting up the room. “This is for you. Everything I do is for you.”

The applause roared back to life, louder than ever, but I barely heard it. My heart pounded in my ears as Charlie madehis way back to our table, trophy in hand, his eyes never leaving mine.

When he sat down, I couldn’t speak. My hand reached for his and he held it tightly.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the noise.

“Iwantedto,” he replied. “I need the world to know how much you mean to me.”

I wanted to be angry at him for putting me on the spot, but the sincerity in his eyes melted any resistance I had. Instead, I leaned in, pressing my lips to his cheek.

“I may have to punish you for this later,” I murmured against his skin.

His eyes grew dark as his gaze found mine. “Perhaps that’s what I’ve wanted all along.”

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