He winks at me, and I’m certain that the blush I feel rising in my cheeks is horribly visible against my pale skin.
The guy in the ocean blue suit grins and turns to the woman next to him. “Watch out. Handshake has his eyes on someone tonight. So, mate, who are we fancying?”
“No one,” I scoff, knowing I don’t sound even remotely convincing.
The woman grins knowingly. Or at least, she grins like she thinks she knows. “Who is the lucky lady?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows.
I swallow hard. “What company are you representing?” I ask, desperately hoping to change the subject.
My heart sinks when she announces that she’s the heiress of one of the most well-known brands in the world.
What the hell am I doing here?
Ocean guy and the heiress start chatting between themselves, and I see an excuse to get the hell out of there. “Excuse me a minute,” I say.
Hardly anyone even blinks at me as I get up and all but run away.
Deciding to make the most of my all-access VIP pass, I find a door that will lead me backstage so I can wander around and walk past a few famous people’s dressing rooms. Not in a creepy way. I just want to bask in the knowledge that I’m having this once-in-a-lifetime experience of being surrounded by people a thousand times more famous than me.
Plus, it’s quiet back here. Quieter, anyway.
Some security guard eyes me suspiciously, but nobody questions me. Nobody stops me. Nobody wants my attention here. I’m as anonymous as I want to be. It’s a relief.
But even feeling that relief turns my stomach with a rush of nausea. I’m not supposed to be anonymous. That’s why I’m here. I’m supposed to be making myself into a household name, a big-shot CEO, someone who people recognize in the street.
That thought makes me feel utterly sick to my bones.
I wander past the dressing rooms, hearing murmurs of excitement behind the doors. These awards are prestigious. Winning one probably does a lot for your career as a musician. All I hear about them is the office gossip of corruption and undeserving winners.
I turn a corner, and another security guard stops me. “I’m sorry, sir,” he says. I clutch at my pass. My hand is shaking. He glances down at it and says, “If you wouldn’t mind returning to your seat, the show is going to begin soon.”
“Oh,” I breathe out. “Thanks. I mean. Okay, I will.” I do my best to smile at him, then realize I should have asked him how to get back to the auditorium, because I have no idea where I am in this maze of corridors.
Too fast, I race around another corner, and before I can stop to draw a breath, I crash headfirst into someone in a pretty pink dress. “God, I’m so sorry,” I say as I leap backward, holding out my hands as a way of surrendering to the lecture I deserve.
Then I focus my eyes, and see that it’s the one and only Eliza Holt standing in front of me.
I let out another chuckle, not quite sure what I’m meant to do in this situation. “Sorry,” I mumble again.
“It was my bad,” she says, biting her full pink lip. “Really, it was. I should have heard you coming.”
“I should have been looking. I’m Jason, by the way.” I extend my hand to her, trying to be polite. She stares down at it for a moment, squinting like she’s never seen a handshake before.
Then her face splits into a gorgeous smile, and she daintily takes hold of my hand, shaking it a couple of times before releasing it. “Eliza.”
“I know,” I stammer.
“Of course you do.” She sighs, flicking her hair over her shoulder. I force myself not to let my eyes drift down to her collarbones. If there’s one thing I am, it’s a gentleman. No matter how attractive this young woman is, I’m not going to be one of those weird guys who freaks women out by being creepy.
“I really admire you,” I blurt, probably not doing great in my effort not to be creepy.
She cocks her head to one side like a puppy, raising a neatly arched eyebrow. “I’m sure you do.”
“No, I really mean it,” I stammer. Her gaze on me is hot and sharp, and I kind of want the earth to open up beneath me, but I’ve started this now. To keep digging feels like the only way to go. “The way you handled those journalists out there… I thought it was really impressive. I think it says a lot about you that you don’t let anyone walk all over you. I can’t say I know anything about your music, but I’m sure it’s great too.”
Again, she narrows her eyes at me like she’s trying to size me up. “That’s sweet of you to say, Jason,” she smiles. “Thank you.”
And that’s when I notice just how strange her demeanor is. She’s holding herself tall and strong, but there’s a puffiness to her eyes, and her makeup has clearly been reapplied. It’s almost like she’s been crying. She smiles politely at me again, then takes a step as if to walk past me. “Wait,” I say quickly. “Are you okay?”