Page 69 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

I want to argue, but the sincerity in his tone gives me pause. “I just want everything to go smoothly,” I admit, my voice low.

“And it will,” he says, stepping closer. “Quit worrying. You’re doing a great job.”

Before he can say more, a stagehand calls out, breaking the moment. Sam leans forward, kissing my forehead reassuringly, before heading off to join the band.

The performance goes great, considering everything that went wrong getting here. Cass owns the stage; his charisma is undeniable. Sam and the rest of the band are right on target, and the crowd loves them.

I watch from the wings, holding my breath that we can finish without something else failing. On the one hand, I’m relieved; on the other, I’m beginning to think my suspicions are right. That maybe someone is trying to sabotage the band's performances.

By the time the final encore ends and the band exits the stage, the tension that’s been hanging over me all day finally begins to ease. The crew moves quickly, packing the equipment as the band heads to the dressing rooms.

Sam finds me backstage, his face flushed with the adrenaline of the performance. “See?” he says, his lips quirking into a grin. “No disasters. You worry too much.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. “Maybe. But I’d rather be over-prepared than underprepared.”

“Fair enough,” he says, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Now, let’s get out of here before that venue manager decides to give you a hard time again.”

When we step outside, the bus, which arrived an hour ago, is already idling. The cool night air is a welcome relief after the heat of the stage. The band piles on, their energy still high from the show. As Sam starts to climb the steps, I stop him with a hand on his arm.

“We have our own room,” I tell him with a sly smile.

His eyes gleaming, he states, “Great. Let’s grab our overnight bags.”

We’re silent as we make our way to the hotel across the parking lot, holding our breath and our distance until the clerk hands us the key cards to our room.

The moment the door closes behind us, the energy shifts. Sam's eyes meet mine, dark with promise, and suddenly, the space between us feels electric. After numerous stolen glances and careful distance on the bus, having this privacy feels almost decadent.

Sam grins, his eyes landing on the king-sized bed.

After ordering room service, we both head for the shower.

Steam fills the bathroom as Sam's hands slide over my wet skin. Just as things start to heat up between us, there's a knock at the door. His frustrated groan against my neck makes me shiver despite the warm water.

Reluctantly stepping out, he reaches for a towel. “Damn, room service for being early.”

While lingering in the bathroom, the muffled sound of Sam talking to the hotel staffer can barely be heard over the sound of the hair drier. Wrapping a robe around me, I walk out of thebathroom. Sam is sitting at the small table with our food in front of him.

He stands and makes a show of holding out my chair with a gentleman’s flair.

“Care to join me?” he murmurs with a teasing grin.

“Don’t mind if I do,” I say, matching his playful mood.

After we’ve both eaten our fill, I lean back in my chair. “That was delicious. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to butter me up,” I say quietly.

“What if I am?” Sam asks gently. His sudden, serious tone makes my heart fall in my chest as I turn to him warily.

Twenty-Two

Sam

I study Emily across the table, taking in the elegant line of her neck and the way her robe clings to her curves. Even worried and tired, she's breathtaking, and I have to force myself to focus on her words rather than how she looks fresh from our shower.

“What’s going on, Em?” I ask, my voice soft but insistent. “Tell me.”

She glances away, her eyes guarded as she fiddles with her napkin. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been on edge the last couple of shows,” I press, leaning forward. “Don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know you better than that.”

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