Page 70 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

And honestly? She looks like she is. There’s a subtle tiredness in her posture, a weight in her movements that wasn’t there before. The constant back-and-forth travel is starting to take its toll, but when I question her about it, she just gives me that stubborn little shrug like it’s no big deal.

I know better. But for now, I let it go.

Because when I finally get a good look at her?

I forget every single thought in my head.

She comes down the steps, the overhead lights bouncing off her jet-black dress, and I swear I lose my breath.

“I’m so sorry, I was late,” she starts, but I silence her with a kiss.

“You’re here now.” I pull back to look at her again, and my breath catches. The black dress is a masterpiece of subtle seduction—technically modest enough for her company image with its high neckline, but the way it clings to every curve tells a different story. It’s sleek, form-fitting, dipping scandalously lowin the back. The skirt falls just above her knees, with a slit that hints at more, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that makes my pulse rise.

And her legs—damn. She’s wearing stiletto heels that make her legs look endless. Her high heels are glittering silver, the kind of shoes that are meant to be admired, but all I can think about is how much I want them tangled in my sheets.

But it’s her face that stops my heart. Smokey eye makeup makes her dark eyes look even more mysterious, more alluring. Bedroom eyes, I think, fighting the urge to kiss her again. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and there’s a slight flush to her cheeks from rushing.

“You look...” I shake my head, words failing me.

She smooths her hands down the dress. “Rachel approved it. Though I’m not sure she saw the final makeup look.”

“Remind me to thank your makeup artist.” My hands find her waist. “And to kill them for making you look this irresistible when we have to be in public all night.”

She laughs, but I notice the slight shadows under her carefully applied makeup. “Are you okay? Those long flights are getting brutal.”

“I’m fine.” She waves it off again, but I catch the way she stifles a yawn. “Just need some coffee.”

I make a mental note to talk to Rachel about the schedule. This constant back-and-forth can’t be easy for her.

The limo is waiting outside. Lacey’s eyes widen as we slide in. “Wow.”

Black, sleek, and stretched long enough to look absurd. The kind of luxury vehicle meant to scream money, status, and power.

It would normally be a bit too flashy and excessive, but tonight isn’t just any night. Tonight is about the band. About our music. About everything we’ve built.

And, apparently, about me trying very hard to keep my hands off Lacey Monroe.

We slide into the back, and the moment the doors shut, every noise fades away, leaving only dim lighting and the faint scent of leather.

“Only the best for album launch night.” I pour her a glass of champagne. “The venue’s even more impressive.”

The interior lighting of the vehicle catches the sparkles in her dress, making her shimmer. I’ve never wanted her more, and from the way she is looking at me, I’m not alone in that feeling.

Lacey crosses her legs, the slit in her dress sliding higher.

I swallow hard. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

I shift in my seat, resting an elbow on the armrest, fingers idly running over my lower lip as I study her. “You had to look this enticing, huh?”

She tilts her head, playing innocent. “I had to match your level of rockstar deliciousness.”

I arch a brow. “Deliciousness?”

She gestures to me. “I mean, look at you.”

I smirk, leaning back so she can. I’ll admit—I look damn good tonight.

Black dress shirt, tailored vest. My usual scruff, a sleek watch, and polished dress shoes that I wouldn’t normally wear but fit the occasion.

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