Page 71 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

I could have worn a tie—but I didn’t.

Lacey’s eyes flick down my frame, then back up, lingering on my mouth before meeting my gaze again.

“Damn, but you look fine, Nate,” she says, running a hand down my chest. The outfit is worth every penny just for that look in her eyes.

“Behave,” I warn her, catching her hand. “We have cameras to face.”

“You started it with that vest.” Her fingers toy with one of the buttons. “And these pants that fit just...” She bites her lip.

I groan. “You’re killing me, Lace.”

The limo pulls up to the venue, and I can already hear the crowd. Cameras flash through the tinted windows.

“Ready?” I ask, straightening my vest.

She takes a deep breath, then gives me that smile that never fails to knock me sideways. “With you? Absolutely.”

We step out into a storm of camera flashes. The red carpet stretches ahead, lined with reporters and fans. Lacey’s hand finds mine, squeezing once.

Inside, the venue is transformed. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over everything. The stage where we’ll perform later is set up at one end, while bars and lounge areas fill the rest of the space. Already, the room is filling with industry executives, press, and VIP fans.

I spot the band near the stage. Sam’s in a charcoal suit, his arm around Emily, who’s glowing in deep blue. Luke and Lila are matching in burgundy. Meanwhile, Kendrick shines in shimmery gold, and Cass has chosen classic black like me. Little Presley is with Emily’s parents tonight, but Cassidy is here, looking pretty and youthful in a pink dress. Vince is alone, but I’m sure not for long.

“There you are!” Emily hurries over, hugging Lacey. “That dress is amazing!”

“This whole place is unbelievable,” Lacey says, looking around in awe.

I keep my hand on the small of her back as we make our way through the crowd. Every head turns to watch us pass. I can’t blame them—Lacey looks like something out of a dream.

“Five minutes.” Rachel appears, clipboard in hand. “Per Emily, after the performance, there will be band photos and then a couple of photos and a few brief interviews.”

I lean down to whisper in Lacey’s ear, “After that, you’re all mine.”

She shivers slightly, turning those bedroom eyes on me. “Promise?”

“Bet on it,” I grin.

She groans, her face flushing. “No more bets with you, Stone.”

The night stretches ahead of us, full of obligations and expectations. But right now, with Lacey by my side, looking irresistible, in sparkles, I can’t wait to play our new songs for the world—because every single one of them reminds me of her.

Twenty-Two

Lacey

The energy inside the venue is electric.

Hundreds of people have packed into the ballroom—industry executives, media, longtime fans lucky enough to snag an invite. With this large of a crowd, there are massive LED screens that flash clips from the band’s latest music videos. The air hums with excitement, a tangible buzz of anticipation as everyone waits for the moment—the first live performance of the Wild Band’s brand-new album.

Nate’s hand is steady on my back as we move through the crowd, guiding me toward the VIP section near the stage. His touch is warm and grounding, but there’s something charged about it tonight. Something that lingers a little longer and presses a little deeper.

I tilt my head, studying him.

He looks so sexy, all dressed in black, his sleeves already rolled up slightly as if he knows he’ll be pushing them higher once he’s behind his drums. His usual scruff frames his sharp jawline, and the intensity in his blue eyes is even more pronounced under the dim, moody lighting.

But beneath the cool confidence, I can feel something stirring.

Something unsettled.

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