Page 9 of Claim to Fame

Hannah clicked into the story, posted only an hour ago, to find a series of photographs. In one, Jackson gave the woman a piggyback ride in the waves. In another, he was practically on top of her, making out on an expensive looking lounge chair.

“What the fuck?” Jennifer snarled, leaning over Hannah’s shoulder to get a better look.

Hannah slammed the phone face down on the table. “It’s fine. It’s not like we were actually together.” When had her voice gotten so high?

“Yeah, buttheydon’t know that,” Jennifer said, pointing to the growing crowd of photographers outside the diner.

Someone opened the door and a flurry of flashes went off, her name called by at least ten different paparazzi as the unsuspecting patron tried to leave the restaurant.

This can’t be happening.

“We had a deal,” Hannah said, dazed. “We weren’t supposed to break up until after the pro-shot premiered. It washisidea.”

“Once a bad boy, always a bad boy,” Jennifer said.

“But that’s just it. He’s not—” Hannah broke off at her friends’ skeptical looks. “He’s been famous since he was a teenager. He made stupid mistakes people make when they’re young, but he did it in the spotlight.”

“You aren’t seriously defending him right now,” Jennifer said. “Poor little rich boy. He was part of the biggest boy band of our generation.”

“And the press ate him alive when he broke up the band.” Hannah glanced at the phone. It was taunting her, even though it was face down. “I don’t understand what happened. It was only a few more weeks. His publicist said it was working. Dating me was helping to win back good will from the band’s fans.”

“So much for that,” Liv said, taking back her phone as Hannah’s began ringing.

Hannah answered as Liv said, “Don’t answer that.”

“Hannah! This is Johnny Blue with Encores.com—”

She hung up and dropped her phone on the table as if it were hot. It immediately began ringing again.

“You need to call your manager,” Jennifer said, silencing the ringing.

“It’ll be fine,” Hannah said, more to convince herself than anything, her voice a little too shrill to be calm. “No one could possibly care about this. I’m a nobody.”

“You may be a nobody but Jackson Hayes is a capital S somebody,” Liv said as she scrolled through the stories on her phone again. “They’re saying he cheated on you with a Brazilian swimsuit model.”

Hannah’s stomach lurched and her mouth went dry. “Why would he do this?” she whispered. “I washelpinghim.”

Liv reached across the table and took her hand. “You’re going to have to ask him that. But right now, we need to figure out how to get you out of here.”

Chapter Three

After slipping out the back door of the diner and semi-successfully dodging the press—there was a lone photographer at the corner smoking a cigarette who got a few shots off before they noticed him—Hannah insisted on going back to her apartment alone. She needed to call her manager and her parents and Jackson and—

But she didn’t make it to her apartment. The cab pulled up in front of her building and was immediately swarmed by scandal-hungry paparazzi, the flash of their cameras blinding her as Liv and Jennifer tried to block the windows. Hannah ducked her head into her lap, folding her arms over her face, and forced herself to breathe. This was madness.

This is what you get for thinking you can lie and get away with it. There’s a reason he was known as the ‘bad boy.’ Idiot.

She hardly heard Liv give the cab driver new instructions, directing him to drop Jennifer off at her apartment in Two Bridges before continuing on to Brooklyn. Hannah wanted to argue. There had been a mistake. These photographers didn’t understand—she was just a Broadway actress. Broadway actresses didn’t get hounded by the press.

Unless they’re caught up in a cheating scandal with a former boy band member about to launch a worldwide reunion tour.

Shit.

As the cab slowed to a stop outside Liv and Daemon’s Brooklyn townhouse, the front door swung upon, the imposing figure of Daemon Chase filling up the opening, though he looked decidedly less imposing with a toddler clinging to his leg and an infant strapped to his chest. He held the door open for them and swept his gaze over the busy street before shutting it behind them.

Liv lifted the baby out of the carrier her husband wore, cooing into the bundle’s dark hair and chubby cheeks while Hannah followed behind, still too stunned to know what to do next. She’d tried to call Jackson from the cab but it had gone straight to voicemail. Her text messages were left unread.

Daemon pulled her into a side hug. “Are you alright?”

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