Page 17 of Ignacio

For a split second, their gazes met in the car’s dim interior, and he saw a flicker of nervousness cross her features. He felt it too. The nervous energy. The anticipation of entering the unknown and putting on the performance of a lifetime.

The driver opened the door, and a rush of noise spilled into the car, breaking the cocoon of quiet inside. Camera shutters clicked in rapid succession, reporters called out questions to the invitees as they arrived, and the high-pitched squeals of excited fans packed behind barricades could be heard.

Ignacio emerged from the vehicle and adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. He was in his element, engaging the cheering crowd with a short wave before turning to help Delta.

“Ready?”

“Always,” she replied.

She took his hand, and he clenched his jaw against the crackle of electricity that danced across his skin. The moment Delta stepped out, the crowd went berserk.

“Ohmigod, it’s Delta J!” a young woman shrieked from the fan section, followed by a chorus of voices shouting for the couple.

There was no going back now. They had to stay the course and hope they’d get what they wanted. The roles they had taken on would be played out for the world to see, splashed across magazine covers and commented on by fans, detractors, and media.

Holding hands, they walked toward the edge of the carpet. Two members of Delta’s team—her publicist, Rochelle, and a slender man—approached immediately. They adjusted Delta’s gown and diamond choker and dabbed powder on her nose, though Ignacio hadn’t noticed anything wrong with herappearance. She looked as sensational as when they had picked her up.

They continued onto the carpet, this time with Delta’s hand in the crook of his elbow. He could feel her fingers pressing lightly into the fine fabric of his jacket.

The cheers from the fans were deafening as they screamed their names and begged for autographs. They paused to sign a few, with Ignacio reaching over one woman’s head to take a black-and-white photo of himself and sign it. He handed it back to the owner, who jumped up and down as if she had inherited a fortune.

“I can’t believe you’re really back together,” said a young woman directly in front of him, practically vibrating with tears of excitement.

Ignacio shot a faint smile at Delta. “Some things are meant to be.” Damn, he was good. He deserved an award for Best Actor. Delta’s answering smile was just as convincing.

Rochelle came over and gently guided them toward the waiting media. The camera flashes intensified. Ahead, Ignacio spotted Victor Creed, a platinum-selling pop/R&B artist. He and Delta had done a duet on his last album. He greeted them with a brief nod and then posed.

Finally, Ignacio and Delta arrived at the main backdrop, where the press congregated for the money shots. A steady stream of yelling ensued.

“Delta! Ignacio! Over here!”

“Delta, can we see that gorgeous smile?”

“Show us the dress, Delta!”

“Ignacio! Ignacio!”

They struck their poses, and then Ignacio stepped aside so Delta could have the limelight for a moment. She did an over-the-shoulder move, one that he’d seen her execute numerous times before. His attention narrowed to the “I” tattooed on herback—his initial, and at the time she got it, her commitment to him. Had it really all been a lie? A sick game she had been playing?

He studied her profile as if the answer would appear before him, but all he saw was beauty, style, and grace. The camera loved her. She continued showing off the back of the dress, which had a jeweled design that ran straight down the middle of her back and over the curve of her plump behind.

Memories from the past flooded him—torturous thoughts of his tongue dragging up the crack of her ass, of gripping her hips and thrusting into her from behind while she gripped the pillows and cried out his name.Nacio.

Ignacio wiped away a bead of sweat that had formed on his forehead.

Moments later, he stepped closer and pulled Delta against his side, one hand resting low on her back, her arm curled around his waist. Her soft breast pressed into his side, and his nose filled with the scent of her perfume. Finally, Rochelle ushered them farther down the line, and Ignacio breathed easier, creating space between them. He hadn’t realized how much being in such close proximity to Delta had caused him to tense up.

As they strolled into the dimly lit venue, a female voice cut through the quieter hum of voices and activity. “Ignacio! Delta! Over here!”

Brenda Morrison Santorini, the East Coast editor ofThe Entertainment Report, based out of Los Angeles, waved them over.

Ignacio guided Delta to Brenda.

“Brenda, what are you doing here?” he asked, giving her air kisses.

“Trying to get the scoop on the two of you,” she replied.

Her skin was amaretto-brown. She had full lips and a tapered cut that flattered her oval face.

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