Page 50 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

Lacey instinctively grabs the serving spoon for the roasted peppers, scooping some onto my plate and hers. Our shoulders brush, a small reminder that even here, in the middle of all this noise and family, I’m aware of her.

Someone clears their throat, and I look up to see Lacey’s older sister, Blaire, watching me with a curious gleam in her eyes.

“So, Nate,” Blaire says, her tone deceptively casual as she reaches for the garlic bread. “What made you decide to settle down now? I mean, my sister’s got a career, a future. She doesn’t need some rockstar breaking her heart just for fun.”

She ignores Lacey’s sharp “Blaire!” and keeps her eyes fixed on me. There’s nothing casual about how she’s watching my reaction, protective older sister mode in full force.

Lacey tenses beside me, but I squeeze her knee under the table.

“Neither do I.” Setting my glass down, steady and deliberate, I continue, “Sometimes, you meet someone who makes you want to take a risk.” I turn to look at Lacey before glancing back at her sister. “It’s a chance we’re taking together.”

Blaire’s expression flickers, something unreadable passing over her features. And I see a hint of approval beneath the questions.

The conversations around us resume. It’s loud, yes, but it’s warm, and there’s something undeniably comforting about the feeling of belonging. Here, I’m not the rockstar in the room.I’m just Nate, and it feels good. I’d almost forgotten how good having family around can feel.

As we near the end of the meal, Lacey’s father glances at me as he stands. “So, Nate. Do you play chess?”

I blink. “I—yes. A little.”

Lacey stiffens beside me. “Oh no,” she mutters, but I’m already pushing back my chair.

Mr. Monroe moves toward the living room, where an old wooden chessboard sits on a side table.

I follow, sitting across from him, and the whole house immediately goes silent. As if I just unknowingly walked into some kind of sacred ritual.

Lacey rubs her temples. “Dad, please don’t scare him away.”

“This is not scaring,” he says calmly, setting up the board. “This is learning.”

“Oh my God.” She groans. “What does that even mean?”

Her father just shrugs.

I glance back at Lacey, amusement flickering in my chest. She looks exasperated.

I grin, picking up a pawn. “You don’t want me to play, Lacey?”

Her lips part. “I—“

“Afraid I’ll win?” I taunt her, making her eyes flash. And that’s all I need to know.

I move my first piece, settling into the game, while the room fills with hushed whispers and side bets—because, of course, her family is making bets on the newcomer.

Lacey perches on the arm of my chair to watch the game, and the subtle scent of her cologne mingles with the warm, homey smells of dinner. Every slight movement brings her closer until I’m more aware of her proximity than the chess pieces in front of me. When she shifts, her thigh brushes my arm, and I nearly knock over my king.

By the time we’re halfway through, I hear someone murmur, “Damn, he’s actually holding his own.”

Lacey throws up her hands. “Oh, come on! I knew I should’ve warned him—“

Her father finally cracks a smile. “He’s good.”

Lacey narrows her eyes. “Dad, you’re just toying with him. You—“

“I like this one,” her father declares, moving his knight. “Check.”

I curse under my breath, staring at the board.

Lacey slowly shakes her head as she sits back, arms folded, watching me squirm.

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