Page 79 of Protecting Mr. Fine

“No. I don’t. I truly believe you think of yourself as selfish. I can see the way it bothers you to say no to people like JK and your uncle.”

He paused for a moment. “I just… I feel like it’s not fair. Lightning struck twice for me, Bear. How is that possible? It was like winning the lottery twice. And I don’t need all of this money. I could give more of it away, and I don’t. I saw a thing on Instagram about how childhood poverty can make you hold on to wealth. It can actually fuck up your money management stuff because you become too risk-averse.”

He glanced at me before looking back at his hand on my chest. His voice was quieter when he spoke. “I stashed fifty million dollars away in a bunch of different cash accounts no one but me has access to. I won’t let my money managers touch it, and it drives them up a wall. They keep telling me I’m losing money every day that cash isn’t invested. I know they’re right, but I just can’t… I can’t let someone else control all of my money. What if something happened? What if I lost everything and couldn’t afford to help Gran anymore?”

I thought about his rich friends, the fact his music would continue to bring in significant royalties for the rest of his life, the reality of his existing talent and determination to make more. But I didn’t say any of those things. He was right. This wasn’t about reality. It was about fear.

I tilted his chin up. “You have enough money to be able to afford to spend some on a security blanket, Z. No one else gets to decide what you do with that money, and there are worse things to do with fifty million dollars.”

“There are better things to do with it, too,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.

“Maybe, but peace of mind is worth something.”

I stroked his hair while I thought about an aspect of this subject that was bothering me. “I want you to consider reframing this in your mind. You talk about lightning striking. I get that there was luck involved. There’s a little bit of that, maybe, especially in terms of being in the right place at the right time. But, Zane… You worked your ass off in both cases. You and your friends came up with an idea and actually followed it up. You researched a need and filled it. You developed it and got it to market. That wasn’t lightning striking. And in your music career, you work incredibly hard. You dedicate all of your time and energy to your music and your fans.”

“I know I work hard. But I wouldn’t have been able to afford to pursue music full-time without having the ETC money. Iwas lucky. People like Bodhi aren’t. They have to work a full-time job while trying to get traction. It’s different.”

“I get that, I do. But the way you talk about it reminds me of the Ventdestinian superstition. There was a faction in the royal guard that blamed me for Asger’s death. Since fortune had selected me to protect him, I’d messed with fate by leaving. It made me feel guilty. Like his death was, at least a little bit, my fault.”

Zane looked up at me. “That’s not fair. You weren’t even there. It was the fault of the assassin. And maybe the existing security detail or conditions at the naval yard. It sure as hell wasn’t the fault of someone who was thousands of miles away in another country!”

I nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. We all have agency. We’re not at the mercy of the winds. Not completely, anyway. Bodhi has been on the professional circuit for years now. He’s had just as much opportunity in the past few years to make it big as you did in the beginning. He doesn’t have the same skill, the same drive—hell, maybe it’s just the combination of charisma, talent, and looks, who knows? My point is, if lightning struck, Zane, you were there to harness it.”

Zane settled back on my chest with ahmph. “You don’t feel guilty about the king’s death, do you?”

“Not really. Not enough to consider going back. I was ready for a change. And now, here I am, naked in bed with the world’s hottest rock star. So I can honestly say, no regrets. Ten out of ten, would do again.”

He huffed out a laugh, his breath warm on my skin. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Zane spoke again. “I don’t want our time in Norway to end.”

I kissed the top of his head. “Same.”

He looked up at me with wide, warm eyes. “Tell me things won’t change when we leave here, Bear.”

My stomach tightened with anxiety. We both knew I couldn’t make that false promise, so instead of speaking, I kissed him.

And tried to make real promises without saying a word.

NINETEEN

ZANE

Bears are masters of picking up on danger and know when they’re being hunted. With their incredible sense of smell, they can detect humans—or predators—from miles away. When a bear gets even a hint that something’s off, it moves with remarkable speed and strategy, ready to defend its life or its den. It’s a foolish creature indeed that gets between a bear and his home… or his honey.

—Bear Facts for Insomniacs, Episode 19

By the time we left Norway, I’d almost forgotten about the Stamper threat. There hadn’t been any new emails, and Violet’s team had spent two solid weeks ensuring there was increased security at each event.

The first two cities went by in a blur. All extra VIP fan access had been curtailed to viewing me from more than arm’s length away, and backstage access had been severely limited to only essential crew who’d passed stringent background checks. They were also requiredto wear double-sided ID badges at all times that tracked access in various areas so Bear’s crew had a record of who was where and when.

The final verse to “Broken Fairytale” had come to me the morning after Bear and I made love for the first time—a sweetly perfect and poignant coda that gave the whole song new meaning and inspired me to change the name entirely—and I’d found time to practice it and my other new song with the band before possibly debuting them at one of the shows.

And every night, we went back to a hotel suite, where Bear made a point of messing up the bed in his bedroom before sneaking into mine. Several nights, I’d been too tired to do more than cuddle, so Bear had frog-marched me into the shower, hand scrubbed me while I swayed on my feet, and then poured me between crisp sheets before curling around me protectively.

I’d even slept like a baby, too deep for dreams good or bad, which was enough to convince me that regardless of my romantic future with Bear, I’d need to hire him as a bedmate for the rest of my life.

All in all, things were going well. Really well.

So well that as Bear and I sat across from one another in the limo as we made our way to the venue in Amsterdam, I had the sudden fear they were about to go terribly wrong.

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