Page 20 of Gabriel's Album

“I won’t lie; this part of your life is my biggest concern. You know that. Fame is just not something that I have ever wanted—being followed by paparazzi and having every aspect of your life dissected just isn’t fun.”

I frown as I take a sip from my glass. This isn’t a positive sign at all, and I can’t help but wonder how we got this far without me realizing it wasthismuch of an issue for her.

“I knew you weren’t thrilled by it, and I guess that I have to ask. Is this a deal-breaker for you?”

I find myself hoping and praying to all the gods that it isn’t. She sighs, puts down her glass, and moves close to me before reaching up to give me the sweetest, softest kiss on my lips.

“If it were a deal-breaker, I wouldn’t be here right now. I would’ve told you to turn the car around as soon as you told me we were going to a birthday party for the person who literally just won the Grammy for Best New Artist. So, it’ll be hard, but I guess I’ll have to try and get used to life in the fast lane.” Ariana winks at me as she picks up her glass again. “To stupidly expensive champagne!”

We clink glasses and take a sip.

“Okay, then, well now it’s my turn to make a toast,” I tell her. Then, in this new bout of honesty that I’m going with, I toast to her. “Let’s toast to an amazing woman who surprises me at every turn and dominates most of my thoughts these days.”

“To April Conway!” Ariana announces before draining her glass, and I’m amused by her wit.

She also seems to think far less of herself than I do, so I finish my own glass of champagne before taking her glass and putting it aside with mine. I put my arms around her waist and easily pull her onto my lap.

“To who?” I whisper in her ear in a voice that is husky and, hopefully, seductive.

“To April Conway,” Ariana repeats, and I kiss the nape of her neck.

“To who?” I inquire again.

“To, um, April?”

I nip her earlobe gently with my teeth and she gasps in a way that I find erotic.

“To who, Ariana?” I turn her head, so I’m looking into her emerald-green eyes when I ask this.

She finally gives me the correct answer. “To me.”

I kiss her then, long and slow. My arms are around her, and I pull her tight to me before I softly stroke her back while we kiss. We’re both breathing heavily when the kiss ends.

“To you, indeed,” I say as I kiss her again, even more passionately, and our tongues dance together.

I’m painfully erect and I want more than anything to be inside her right now, but I’m also incredibly aware that we are fast approaching the venue for April’s party. I break our kiss and move her back to her seat, because I probably don’t need a picture of me with a massive boner to be printed in the world’s magazines tomorrow.

“We’re about five minutes away,” I tell her.

“Oh, that’s good, isn’t it?” she says, looking adorably dazed.

“Is it?” I ask, feeling a wicked sense of amusement, because I definitely don’t see this as a good thing at all.

“Probably not,” she smiles back at me.

“I, at the very least, need some time to get control of myself, though.” I wink at her, and she blushes as I indicate the very obvious bulge in my pants.

We arrive at the venue, and we’re fifth in a line of limousines dropping guests off. There is a billboard at the front of the venue announcing April’s twenty-first birthday party. I can see a crowd of both fans and people with cameras and microphones either side of a roped-off walkway into the building.

“Are you ready to run the Gauntlet?” I ask her.

“The Gauntlet?”

“Yeah, it’s what we call the red carpet at events. People calling your name, wanting your photo, or a soundbite.”

“They won’t want my photo, though, will they?” Ariana asks me with a panic-stricken look on her face.

“If you’re with me, they might, or they might ask you to stand aside while they take mine. It depends on the day, but you’ll probably end up in a few. Do you not want your photo taken?”

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