“I…my sister mentioned it this morning.”
“You discussed me with your sister?” Zachary stiffened.
Experience had taught him to be wary. Rumors spread, fast and furious. A quick call to family or friend was all it took for the press to get involved. And when the press got involved private situations became public fodder—most of the time exaggerated beyond recognition.
On the other hand, who was he to criticize a woman for talking to her sister? Didn’t he talk to his brothers about shit that happened in his life? Maybe he should view her conversation as a compliment.
A part of him would feel complimented, he acknowledged, if she hadn’t mentioned the damn baby shit.
“She phoned me to discuss the papers. We spoke.”
Wait. “What papers?”
Her face dropped. “The newspapers.”
Never mind the unease up his spine. His whole body turned cold. “What about the newspapers?”
“Nothing much.” Her gaze wandered over his shoulder. “Just me. With you. On page one—and three—of the Australian morning newspapers. Your tongue in my mouth. Nothing huge. Oh, and maybe a video of us pashing on the Internet.”
Shit.
Damn.
Fuck it all.
“Wait, what? Pashing?”
“Kissing, mate. Frenching. Making out like teenagers.” She fluttered her hand nonchalantly towards the television. “It’s on the telly too. All the news shows are broadcasting it. And there may be a few YouTube videos making the rounds.”
She said it all very calmly, as though it didn’t affect her at all. But her eyes were huge, she couldn’t look at him and darts of panic flashed across her face. Her fingers feathered over her cheek.
“Christ, I’m sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I didn’t think. Didn’t check the papers or let Luke know.” Of course this was going to happen. He’d known it as soon as he’d worked out what the blinding flashes of light had been when he’d kissed her. He’d just gotten so caught up in Eve that he’d forgotten all about it.
For once he’d met a woman he found more important than his reputation.
The band manager was bound to have seen the papers by now. Watched the broadcasts. He was probably banging on Zachary’s door right now, attempting to initiate damage control.
Zachary hated this shit. Passionately. He’d been burned badly by the press, and had no doubt they were clamoring to burn him again. So long as they got their story, anything they wrote was okay.
Which was why any interviews Zachary now participated in were conducted on his terms. Period.
But regardless of how much he hated them, hated the paparazzi, and no matter how valid his reasons were for hating them, he was used to them. Knew what to expect. Eve had no experience at all. In her shoes, he’d also be nervous.
He grimaced. “I should have realized this would happen. Did realize. I just… Shit, with everything that happened between us, I didn’t give it another thought.” Stupid. Why hadn’t he tried to protect her from this crap?
Because he couldn’t? Because when it came to the media he was just a pawn to be used for another sensational story?
“Did they know who you were?” he asked. “Identify you by name?”
She shook her head.
Okay, so that was good. A lucky break, at least. But it wouldn’t last. If her sister had recognized her, chances were high someone else had too. Any member of the crew could have identified her. Sure, I know her. She’s the makeup artist for Speed’s back-up singers.
Christ, now what? Did he tell her it would probably get worse? That the photos might haunt her for a while? The photos and the video.
Stories were going to fly. Before she knew it, she’d hear she was engaged to Jonah. Or secretly married to him. Maybe preparing for their first child. Or second. The press would scratch up whatever they could about her. Anything in her past she didn’t want known, they’d know about it.
The paparazzi would dog her every move.
Bastards.
Furious, with himself and with the press, he led her to the bed, urging her to sit on it.
She perched on the edge, and he crouched before her.
“Eve, I wish I could say differently. This might take a while to fade from the media. People are going to talk about it for some time.”
She gave a dejected sigh. “Yeah, I kinda figured that out.”
He didn’t want to scare her, but she had to be prepared. “The paparazzi are going to be searching for you. They’ll follow your every move. Bang on your door—and mine—for a photo.”
“Charming.”
She didn’t know the half of it. “The press is going to scratch around in your past, look for any piece of dirt they can dig up on you.”
Eve blanched. Her face turned pale, so white that even beneath her makeup, Zachary could make out her ghostly pallor.
Someone banged on the door.
Eve started, staring at said door in horror.
“No,” he soothed her instantly. “No, that’s not them. They can’t get to you here. Not in the hotel. There’s security posted all over the place.”
Another bang on the door. “Eve? Are you in there?”
Zachary leapt to his feet. Thank God. Not a moment to soon. He let Luke in.
“Thought I might find you here,” his buddy said in greeting.
“Luke.” Zachary knew his voice reflected his relief.
“Dry spell over?” his friend asked, a hint of amusement in his voice, although his eyes were dead serious.
“You noticed.”
“The whole world noticed.” Luke chuckled. “No small measures for you. When you break the shackles of your self-restraint, you do it in style. In front of an audience of hundreds. Millions.”
Zachary grimaced.
“We’ll deal with it. We’ll get through it. Just like we’ve gotten through other crises.” Luke’s hand on his shoulder was comforting. Or it should have been, if his knuckles didn’t look bruised and raw. His whole hand was swollen. Both his hands were.
“Jesus, Luke, what the—?”
Luke dropped his hand. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. An incident while training last night.”
Zachary searched has face. Luke looked okay. He looked…happy? No, “content” would be a better word. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He smiled then, a smile Zachary had never seen on his friend’s face.
And just like that, he knew. Seth had finally worn Luke down. Finally got him to commit. Fuck knew he’d only been trying for eight years.
Way to go, little brother.
He grinned at Luke, forgetting, for just a moment, that Luke’s hands were damaged and that the press was trying to rip his life apart. Again. His life and Eve’s. “So, you and Seth finally—”
Luke held his hand up in warning. “Don’t say it. Don’t even go there. And I swear if I hear the words I told you so, I will snap every one of your drumsticks in half.”
“Not saying a word here. It’s about damn time, but I’m not saying a word.”
Luke grunted.
Zachary turned to Eve. “Just for the record? I did tell him so. Often.”
“Tell him what?” Eve asked, confused.
“That it’s okay to be happy,” Luke offered. “But I’m not here to talk about me. I’m here to discuss the two of you. You doing okay, Eve?” He sat beside her on the bed, his expression gentle, his voice soft. The man was genuinely concerned about the effect this would have on her.
She nodded, still pale.
“You’ve seen the papers this morning?”
“Half the world has seen the papers.”