Page 81 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

A knock shatters the moment. “Thirty minutes, Ms. Monroe!”

Reality crashes back. Tonight, he’ll be gone. Back to stages and screaming fans while I’m trapped here in the company’s golden cage.

But for now… For now, he’s here, and he’s all mine.

Twenty-Five

Nate

The afternoon races by too quickly. Before I know it, we’re back at Lacey’s apartment, finishing a quick meal, and I’m checking my flight time.

“I have to go,” I murmur against her lips. She reaches over and steals a French Fry.

“Get your own,” I grumble, pulling her closer.

“Yours tastes better.” She says, gripping my shirt tighter. “Five more minutes?”

My laugh is rough. “If I stay five more minutes, I’ll drag you back to bed and miss my flight.”

Lacey knows I’m right, but she daringly kisses me anyway.

“Thief,” I say as I drop one last lingering kiss on her shoulder, exposed by my t-shirt that she’s wearing. “Speaking of stealing, is that my shirt?”

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law.” She says with a sexy smile. “Besides, you like me in your clothes.”

My hand slides under the hem. “I like you out of them better.” I try to memorize everything about this moment as I press her even closer. When I finally pull away, we’re both breathing hard.

“Call me when you land?” She asks. “Even if I can’t pick up, I need to know you’re okay.”

I nod, pressing one last kiss to her forehead. “Every day, princess. I’ll call or text every day.”

She watches me leave, and I can tell we’re both already regretting the distance between us. But the memory of the past twenty-four hours warms me, and I know—that no matter the distance, no matter what Rachel or the company throws at us. We’ll somehow find a way to be together.

As I settle into my seat on the plane, I text her one last time:‘Missing you already! P.S. My shirt looks better on you, anyway.’

The roar of the crowd is deafening, the flashing lights nearly blinding. The stage is alive with energy, the kind that thrums through my veins, electric and raw.

This should be enough.

The music. The adrenaline. The high of performing for thousands of screaming fans, the rhythmic pounding of my drums a steady force against the chaos.

It should be enough—but it’s not.

Because every night, after the last note fades, after the last encore is played, and after the final group of fans is ushered out of the venue—Lacey’s not here.

I throw my drumsticks into my case and run a hand through my damp hair, breathing hard as the stadium’s lights start to dim. The rest of the guys are already dispersing. Cass and Kendrick slip away to the family bus, where Cassidy is already sleeping. Sam and Emily aren’t far behind, and Luke has already disappeared, probably somewhere with Lila.

Vince?

Vince is exactly where I expect him to be—smirking like a damn fool, heading toward some blonde in a tight dress who’s clearly been waiting for him all night.

I shake my head. The perpetual bachelor. He never changes, but even he has some companionship, if only the temporary kind.

And me? I exhale heavily, rolling my shoulders.

I have nothing to distract me. No wife or fiancée waiting for me. No girlfriend sneaking past security just to see me. No Lacey.

Just me, alone with my damn stock portfolio.

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