Page 23 of His Secret Addiction

I run my fingers through my hair. “What about the press statement, Gary?”

“Look, the label released a press statement announcing that the entire thing with Lizzie was taken out of context and people were simply jumping to conclusions…”

“What other context would there be to posting a photo of a girl with the words ‘my heart belongs to you, always’?”

“Fans will believe anything you tell them.”

There is more. Christ, I can see there is more that Gary is not telling me, so I open my social media account, searching for the press statement released by the label and once again shared to my public profile without my consent, and my jaw nearly drops to the ground.

No, the label did not simply state that the post was a misunderstanding and Lizzie isn’t actually my girlfriend, they claimed she is nothing more than my best friend’s little cousin, never mind that James and I have barely talked in a decade. According to the label, the original post was meant as a tribute from my best friend to his fiancée, and I was sharing it to congratulate them on their engagement. They claimed I’d reposted a picture meant for Abby from James, but forgot to remove the original caption.

The fact that their statement isn’t even close to the truth, let alone very believable doesn’t seem to matter. Looking at the comments, it’s clear everyone believes it. The reason why becomes glaringly obvious when I see their next post announcing my relationship with a woman they claim is my actual girlfriend. The post is accompanied by a picture, and it takes me a solid minute to even recall when it was taken.

In the photo, I’m on a red carpet, posing with my arm around a beautiful blonde. I recognize her immediately a successful solo musician who had recently risen to stardom and gained a dedicated following. Her band had opened for mine acouple of times on our last tour and when I’d seen her at this event, a journalist had asked us to pose together. Christ, I barely even remembered it or her. I can’t even recall her name right now.

My hand clenches around the phone as I stare at it, and it slowly makes sense why I haven’t gotten any response to my texts and calls to Lizzy. I want to go back in there and confront whoever thought it was a great idea to make this post and teach them a fucking lesson, but I need to fix this with Lizzie first.

The elevator doors open, but a hand grabs my shoulder before I can step in. “Foster.”

“Gary, if you don’t want to end up with a bloodied nose, then get your fucking hand off me,” I grit out, vibrating with barely contained anger. I am giving him the respect he deserves for working as my manager all those years, but I will not hesitate to clock him if he stops me again, and he must sense this as well because he drops his hand.

***

I arrive in Valor Springs at midnight, driving straight to the hotel, but it’s closed. Fuck! I know that Lizzie stays late some nights, and I don’t want to leave without knowing for sure that she’s not here. I step out of the car and dial Lizzy’s number, but it doesn’t go through, which means one thing.

She has blocked me!

With a frustrated growl, I fist my hair and kick the wheel in anger, hating myself even more for leaving Valor Springs. I should have stayed here with her, taken a break from music, and focused instead on building a relationship with her.

Of course she would pull away and doubt our relationship right along with the rest of the world when I haven’t quite made things clear for her just yet.

“Sebastian?” I turn around at the sound of my name, eyes connecting with the amber ones of Lizzy’s boss, then the man with his hand around her shoulders, James. It looks like they’re coming in from some kind of midnight walk, but with the way her hair is mussed up and from the satisfied look on the man’s face, I doubt walking was all they did. “What are you doing here?”

“Lizzy, where is she?” I ask, unwilling to waste time with pleasantries.

The girl makes a sour face and shakes her head. “I told you I would send my fiancée after you if you broke Lizzy’s heart.” She nods toward the man standing next to her.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and nod. “I know,” I say impatiently before pushing down the anger and extending my hand to the man. “Thank you for your service, James. I was sorry I couldn’t attend your welcome home party, but it’s good to see you, man.”

“Likewise,” he responds, and I read the surprise on the girl’s face. He must sense it too because he adds, “It’d be a happier reunion though if you hadn’t just broken my favorite cousin’s heart.”

As much as I would love to stay and have this little confrontation, a girl is waiting for me to fix things with her, and I refuse to go another day without hearing her voice. “Do you know where Lizzie is?”

“At her house. Her parents are due back from that trip in the morning, so she’s probably getting the house ready for them.”

“Thanks.” I nod at the pair and climb back into my car, tearing away from the curb and onto the road. The drive to her home takes fifteen minutes, and my heart is hammering as I park my car right outside her house. All the lights are off because, well, it’s midnight, and I consider walking to the door to knock, but I don’t want to force her out of bed.

An idea strikes me, and before I can talk myself out of it, I am already running in the dark to the side of the house where I know her room is. What I am about to do is technically a crime, but she’s left me little choice.

The night is cool against my skin as I scale the wall. If her house is built anything like mine, and I suspect it is, then it shouldn’t be hard to scale it. In high school, I snuck in and out of my room many times without once getting caught. I am a little too old to be scaling walls, but here we are.

With my eyes locked on the prize, I hoist myself up and grip the awning above the living room window. I swing my leg up and carefully balance myself on my knee before bringing up my other foot. I force in a deep breath before reaching up for her bedroom window and pushing it, praying that it’s not locked, and it’s not.

“Thank fuck!” I hiss, gripping the window frame and hoisting myself up. I make sure to make as little noise as possible as I slide into her room, but it seems I am not successful as Lizzie suddenly sits up in the bed, eyes groggy with sleep as she blinks in my direction.

“Who’s there?” she demands, panicked. Her voice is thick with sleep when she speaks, and goddamned, it’s so fucking sexy.

“It’s me, kitten,” I hurry to say before she decides to scream at the intruder.

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