Page 83 of Reckless
26
Kelly
“Gage, over here!”
A woman waved, holding up a cell phone. “You’re live! Say hi!”
Panic took my breath. Was she recording? How much had she caught on video?
When Babs brought out the envelope and convinced me to take it, I’d assumed the truth would stay hidden unless Gage wanted to know. Now, the envelope in Gage’s hand seemed fragile, vulnerable to the point that I wanted to snatch it and run to the nearest bank vault. I’d seen what some of the fans could do, and even worse, the reporters.
Hell, truth be known, even I wanted to know what it said. Was dying to know. But Gage’s feelings took precedence over my curiosity. Not so in the celebrity world. It was as if the world thought they had a right to know every detail, as if celebrities were Barbie and Ken, living in their dream house with the back wall missing so everyone could see each flick of their pinky.
We were feet from the car when we found ourselves completely surrounded. Men and women with cameras circled us at every angle, blocking any exit. Flashes blinded me, questions were hurled at us. The journalist in New Hope had been unpleasant, but this was off the scale.
“Gage, do you even know who your father is?”
“Were you a love child?”
“Is it true that the two of you have secretly been married since you were sixteen?”
Gage pulled me against his chest, but the reporters moved in tighter. The questions didn’t stop, and potential headlines filled my brain. This was all my fault. Chances were, I’d be the girl who ruined Gaged forever, after marrying him when I was just a teenager…wherever the hell that came from. I’d definitely be the bad guy here. Anything to make Gage’s fans hate me more than they already did.
I wanted to smack the microphone out of the woman’s hand who shoved it in my face and said, “Have you recovered from your brother and father’s death?”
I wanted to scream. Weep. But anything I did would be written about then speculated on. Judged.
Every move Gage made was judged by a public that didn’t even know him, had never met him in person. Being with him, it would be the same for me. Could I handle this? Could I handle being asked intimate questions about my family every time I went out in public? A cold stone settled at the bottom of my stomach.
Whatever we did, together or separate, these people would find something to write about us.
“Back up!” Gage demanded, his rage barely contained. “Don’t answer any questions, Kelly.”
“What do you have to say to all the fans whose hearts are being broken?”
A camera smacked into the side of Gage’s head, and he snarled, pushing it away. “Stop this. Stop it now! Back. Up.”
One of his bodyguards stepped in, creating a wedge between us and the reporters, shouting for them to get out of the way as I ducked my face into Gage’s arm.
It felt like the oxygen was being stripped from the air. My stomach clenched, my chest tightened. Maybe if I ended up a heap on the ground in the middle of this mob, it would take the heat off Gage. That’d be great news for them to flash all over the world.
Amazingly, the crowd parted, and Gage pushed me through the opening and to the car.
“Gage, your fans want to know what’s happening in your personal life.”
“Everyone wants to know the girl who has snagged Gage Strickland.”
I had the sudden urge to turn and scream to them, “We fucked! I love him!” just to release the pressure. The messed up thing was that I would’ve laid everything on the table, sacrificing my privacy if I thought it would shut these people up.
But it never would.Never.
That stuck with me, lodged in my chest like an under-chewed piece of meat, even as Gage managed to clear a path. I’d tried to fit into Gage’s life, but it didn’t seem like there was a place for me. Even the posh lifestyle that was necessary to preserve his privacy and basic safety was more than I could adapt to. And with this much intrusion, it wouldn’t be long until I lost my freaking mind.
“It’s okay now.” Gage rested my head against his shoulder once we were in the back seat and away from the pack. “They’re gone. I’m sorry.” He petted my hair and repeated those words over and over.
A wet patch grew on Gage’s shirt around my face, and it took me a second to recognize it came from me. I was a pathetic mess. And as much as I wanted to be with Gage, I just wanted to go home.
By the time we made it back to his penthouse, there was a crowd gathering at the entrance to the building, fans mixed with reporters. Their faces were animated, as if they knew Gage held the key to what they searched for.
