Page 77 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

Cass’s eyes narrow, and he turns toward his sister. “You think someone’s trying to undermine you?”

Emily hesitates, then nods slowly. “I don’t know why, but... yes. That’s what it feels like.”

Cass lets out a long breath. “This is serious. If someone’s messing with the band—or you—it could jeopardize everything we’ve worked for.”

“That’s why we wanted to tell you,” I say. “We thought you should know before anything else happens.”

Cass nods, his expression grim but determined. “You did the right thing. I’ll talk to Kendrick about this, and we’ll keep an eye out for anything suspicious. In the meantime, don’t let this shake you, Emily. You’re doing an amazing job, and anyone who says otherwise is full of crap.”

Emily’s lips curve into a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Cass.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, standing and clapping a hand on my shoulder. “We’re a team. We’ve got each other’s backs.”

As we leave the studio, Emily lets out a small sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Well, that went better than I expected,” she admits.

“Told you,” I say, slipping an arm around her waist. “Cass always has your back. And so do I.”

I press a kiss to the top of her head, a surge of protectiveness sweeping through me.

But as we head back to the studio, I can’t shake the feeling that this is far from over. Whoever’s behind this isn’t going to stop—not until we figure out who they are and why they’re doing it.

And when we do, they’re going to regret ever messing with Emily—or this band.

The tension coiled tightly in my chest since Emily and I told Cass about our suspicions starts to unravel the moment we step back into the beach house. It’s like this place has a magic all its own—a haven where the chaos of the world can’t quite reach us.

Emily walks ahead of me into the house, her shoulders relaxing as she takes in the familiar surroundings. Her plants are still thriving, their vibrant greens and cheerful blooms scattered across the porch and living spaces.

“Not a single one has died,” she murmurs, crouching down to inspect a trailing ivy hanging in the corner.

“Of course not,” I say, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile. “With that weekly care service, this place is in better shape than when we left it.”

She laughs softly, brushing a hand over one of the leaves. “I know, but I'm still worried.”

“Emily Wild Ryder,” I tease, wrapping my arms around her from behind. She melts against me naturally, like we've been doing this dance forever. Her soft curves fit perfectly against my chest, and the familiar scent of her shampoo mingles with the salt air.“You worry enough for an army. These plants are tougher than you think.”

Her laughter bubbles out again, light and carefree, and it’s a sound I haven’t heard nearly enough lately. “How would you know? You know nothing about plants,” she points out, tilting her head back to look at me. When I just shrug, she says, “You’re incorrigible.”

“Yep. That’s why I hope our baby takes after you,” I reply playfully, pressing a kiss to her temple, and as she turns away, I give her ass a lusty smack.

She gives me a playful glare over one shoulder but doesn’t complain. She likes my hands on her.

We spend the rest of the afternoon settling back in—filling the fridge, unpacking the suitcases and duffle bags we brought, and reclaiming the quiet of our beach retreat. As the sun dips low in the sky, I suggest we take a walk.

Emily agrees with a nod, slipping her hand into mine as we step out onto the soft, cool sand. The waves crash gently against the shore; their constant rhythm is both soothing and powerful.

“It’s crazy how different everything feels here,” she says after a while, her voice quiet.

“Yes, it’s similar to the farm. Safe. Like this is our real life, and all the rest isn’t.”

She glances up at me in surprise, her blue eyes catching the fading sunlight. “Yeah, that’s exactly how it feels.”

“That’s because nothing else matters. Not when we’re here.” I murmur, tighten my grip on her hand.

We walk silently for a while, the cool evening breeze tugging against Emily’s hair and the hem of her light sweater. I watch her out of the corner of my eye, thinking how lovely she appears as she looks out at the horizon.

“Do you ever think about the future?” she asks suddenly, her voice carrying a note of hesitation.

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