Page 59 of One Last Verse

“You know what, Cassy Evans?” He leaned forward. “I’ve never dated a film producer before.”

I replied with a tiny laugh.

“I know we haven’t discussed this lately, but I believe it’s time we go public. I’m tired of the secrecy.”

My heart lurched in my chest. Frank’s words took me by surprise. With everything he’d been going through emotionally these past few weeks, I hadn’t allowed myself to venture back into that territory. We’d put that conversation on hold.

“If I’m part of your project, we can’t keep walking on eggshells, doll. Besides, people will figure it out anyway.” He licked his upper lip. “I’m going to burn next to you every time we’re out in public and I can’t hold your hand or touch you.”

Heat pooled at my core. I needed so little to get turned on.

“Okay.” I nodded and moved closer. “You can touch me right now to get a head start.” My height lingered above his body seated in the chair. He shifted and pulled me to stand between his thighs. I sunk my fingers in his silky hair and brushed it away from his face.

“So we’re doing it, right?” He looked at me through his long, dark lashes.

“Yes.” A giddy smile stretched my lips. My head spun from the realization that we weren’t just a phase. We were going to take a step forward in our relationship—no matter how dysfunctionally codependent it was—and make it official. “Could you give me a couple of days to talk to my family?”

“Of course.” Frank drew me closer, filling the space between us with his want, erasing the distance and making us one. His warm breath tickled my skin through the thin fabric of my shirt as he buried his face between my breasts.

I loved him like this, undeniably needy and all hot and bothered.

Emotions of every color began to clog my chest.

“My mother is dying to know who you are,” I said, kissing the top of his head. “I haven’t told her yet.”

“It’s probably a good idea for me to meet her before we’re all over the internet. I wouldn’t want my mother to find out I was seeing someone through the tabloids.” He tore his cheek from my breast. “Oh, wait. That’s exactly how my mother has found out about all my girlfriends.”

“You’re impossible.” I laughed. My happiness was infinite. “You need to stop talking about your ex-girlfriends and other women. You’re taken.”

“Consequences of being famous.” He grinned up at me, eyes bright and shining.

“I’m surprised we’ve been able to cover this up for so long,” I confessed.

“I’m honestly surprised too.” His palm skimmed down my back and cupped my ass. “Doesn’t matter now. We’re worldwide, baby.”

Later that evening, while Frank was holed up in his studio, I took the liberty of stalking my brother’s Instagram account. His last photo, posted two days ago, was a selfie of him and Levi sitting in front of a large monitor with a screenshot of Isabella’s face in After Effects.

He’d changed his handle from @ftninja2001 to @ashtheman2019.

working on some sic shit with my bro @LeviBernstein, the caption below it read.

There were no photos or videos of Frank anywhere on his feed other than a few snippets of live Hall Affinity footage, which was fine. Half of L.A. had gone to that show.

After I’d ensured Ashton hadn’t been posting anything he wasn’t supposed to, I dialed his number.

“What up, sis?” he yelled. Loud music boomed in the background.

“Where are you?” I asked suspiciously.

“At Levi’s.”

Relief washed over me. Thank God, it wasn’t some bar or a strip club. Ever since Frank bought Ashton that car, I’d been dreading the call from the police to inform me my brother was arrested for something insanely stupid. Like breaking into Selena Gomez’s house. “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“I’m crashing here.”

“Can I talk to Levi, please?”

“Why are you calling my phone then?”

---