Page 90 of The Sun and Her Star

Apollo

“Hey, Sunshine.”

My heavy fork clatters onto the glass top table. I freeze, disbelief and shock swirl together and run through my veins like horse drawn chariots. I close my eyes and count to three before opening them again.

I’m not dreaming. This nightmare is actually happening. I look around my table. All eyes are on me. In fact, the entire room’s volume has lowered to a hush.

I look over at Lucas and the normally placid expression on his face has morphed into one of star-struck stupefaction. It’s all the evidence I need to confirm I didn’t imagine hearing Graham’s voice behind me.

“Uh, hey … um, Mr. Davis. Are you … are you talking to us?” Lucas stammers. His voice is about three octaves higher than it normally is. He reminds me of a YouTube video I watched of a thirteen-year-old-girl meeting Zac Efron for the first time.

“No. I’m talking to Apollo.” Graham’s deep, sexy, sweet and easy as syrup Southern boy drawl floats through the air, and cloaks me in layers of panic, anger, and wild, unbound elation.

It’s about fucking time.

I push the unbidden thought aside, fix a smile on my face, and turn around to face him.

He hits me like a cannonball to the chest.

I gasp. My smile falls, and my breath comes out in pants.

I’ve seen his face every single day for the past three months. On television, billboards, in the magazines that littered the apartment I used to share with Lucas.

In my dreams.

But none of it compares to seeing him in person. He’s taller than my memories had made him. Leaner, yet larger at the same time.

Or maybe it’s just that he’s finally grown into his God-given star power.

He’s dressed in one of his signature dark metallic blue Burberry suits, with an open collared white shirt underneath. His trademark punch of color is a dark yellow silk square.

From his Patek Philippe watch to his handcrafted Testoni shoes, he looks like he was born to be a king. He’s even got hair that he wears with the same pride and confidence a lion wears his mane.

He wields his charm like a weapon and has slain the heart of every man, woman, and child who lays eyes on him. They want to be him, love him, fuck him, play with him.

Including Lucas.

He’s got a man crush on Graham that has made living with him over the last year nearly unbearable. He talked about Graham like he knew him.

The scrape of the chair beside me reminds me where I am—at a fund-raiser. With my boyfriend, his parents, and business partners. And right now, all of them are staring wide-eyed between Graham and me.

Great.

“Mr. Davis, it’ssuchan honor. I didn’t know you and Apollo were friends,” Lucas says as he comes to stand beside me. I stand up, too, not comfortable with having these two men standing over me.

When his hand goes around my waist, he doesn’t seem to notice the way I stiffen at his touch or the way Graham’s gaze narrows on the hand that he’s resting on my hip. I stifle my urge to step away, and I remind myself that Graham has no right to look that way.

He leans in, plucks me out of Lucas’s grasp and wraps his arms around me in a hug so all-encompassing, I nearly faint from the rush of energy that passes between us.

“You look fucking amazing,” he says, his voice gruff and low, his breath hot on my ear, sending chills down my neck as he presses a kiss to my cheek.

I can’t stop my arms from coming up and wrapping around him. I hug him back and let myself smell him, feel him, drown in him for a fraction of a minute before I pull away.

He lets me go, but reluctantly, and takes a step back. His eyes hold mine in a possessive but tender gaze that makes me want to step back into his arms.

I look at Lucas.

He’s staring at Graham, eyes wide. “So, you’re likereallyfriends?” He turns around to the table where his parents, sister and business partners are all sitting staring at Graham in awe.

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