Page 70 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

Her shoulders tense, and for a moment, I think she’s going to brush me off. But then she exhales slowly, her hands clenched in her lap.

“It’s probably nothing,” she says reluctantly, her voice tentative.

I shake my head. “If it’s bothering you, it’s not nothing. Talk to me.”

She hesitates, her gaze darting to the window as if looking for an escape. But when her eyes meet mine again, I see a mix of trust and apprehension.

“Alright,” she says, her voice firmer now. “But I might just be paranoid or overreacting.”

I nod, giving her the space to speak.

“There have been... small things,” she begins, her words measured. “Little mishaps that, on their own, don’t seem like much. But when you put them all together...”

“Like what?” I prompt gently.

“At the first venue, there was a soundtrack glitch,” she says, ticking off the incidents on her fingers. “Then the amps at the second show—those were checked and fully functional earlier, by the way. And now the bus breaks down. The timing of everything just feels... off.”

I frown, leaning back as I process her words. “You think it’s sabotage?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, doubtfully. “But it doesn’t feel random. It feels deliberate.”

“Who would do something like that?” I ask, my mind racing through the possibilities. “A disgruntled crew member? A rival band?”

She shrugs, looking frustrated. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. There’s no clear motive and no obvious suspect. But I can’t shake the feeling that someone’s trying to mess with us.”

I hate seeing her look so worried. She’s always so composed, so sure of herself, but right now, she looks vulnerable in a way I don’t see often. I reach out, covering her hand with mine.

“If someone is behind this, we’ll stop them,” I assure her, my voice steady. “But you should have told me. I’m here for you, Em. Let me help.”

Her eyes glisten, and she blinks quickly, looking down at our joined hands. “Thanks, Sam. I just—I didn’t want to worry anyone until I had more to go on—proof of some sort.”

“I understand, but you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got me,” I remind her gently. “Also, Cass and the rest of the band. A whole team.”

She nods slowly, but the worry in her eyes doesn’t completely fade. “For now, I’d rather keep this between us,” she says. “At least until we have something more concrete.”

“Agreed,” I say, squeezing her hand. “But don’t shut me out, okay? If anything else happens, you tell me.”

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice soft but sincere.

We fall into a contemplative silence, the seriousness of our allegations settling over us, taking priority over our plans for romance. Emily picks up her water glass, her eyes distant, while I watch her, trying to figure out how to help.

“You’re exhausted,” I say after a moment, my tone gentler now.

She shakes her head, but the way she struggles to stay awake betrays her. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” I tease lightly, standing and holding out a hand. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

She looks at me with mocking surprise. “What, no sex?”

“No. Not tonight—not when you’re this exhausted,” I state firmly.

Her eyes meet mine, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Are you always this bossy?”

“Only when you’re too stubborn to take care of yourself,” I reply with a grin.

She rolls her eyes but takes my hand, letting me pull her to her feet. Her steps are slow, and she's practically asleep before we even reach the bed.

“You’re hopeless,” I mutter, scooping her into my arms before she can protest. She fits perfectly against my chest, her body soft and warm. The lingering scent of her shampoo and the feel of her pressed against me makes my heart race, but tonight isn't about that. Tonight is about taking care of her.

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