Page 91 of Shattered Chords

Camille shook her head. “No, this is fine. I don’t want to eat too much in this dress.”

“You didn’t do an Ally, did you? This is the correct size, right?” I couldn’t help myself. My hand reached for her waist and I rested my palm right above her hip bone.

“No, I’m not crazy enough to wear something that might rip apart if I take a breath.” She smiled that cute one-sided, imperfect smile I loved so much, looking up at me through her lashes, and something inside my chest lurched.

“I don’t mind crazy.” I lowered my voice, and my skin buzzed where it touched her dress. I could feel her euphoric warmth through the soft fabric.

“I’ll leave that to you,” she murmured. “Being crazy.”

Something clicked in the fresh air between us. I realized how close we were and how I could smell her scent, how I could see the dark flecks dotting the green of her irises and the stray wisps of red hair streaming around her face.

Somewhere below, the ocean groaned, spitting foaming waters, slamming them against the rock formations. Living in a place this secluded was very much like Frank. His privacy was one thing he protected fiercely. I hadn’t understood it at first, but I did now.

“Are you cold?” I asked Camille, gliding my palm up the curve of her spine. My fingers reached the portion of her back that wasn’t covered, right between her shoulder blades, and I felt her shiver from my touch.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Are you having a good time?”

“I’m still getting to know everyone.”

“It’s great practice.”

“What do you mean?” Millions of questions flashed in her eyes.

I sucked in a deep breath through my teeth, unsure whether this was the right place to talk about my public life and everything that it entailed, including bad press.

Truth was, we’d been stalling for weeks now and I couldn’t take it anymore. Except for that one very erotic moment in my pool house, I didn’t dare touch her the way I wanted just yet. Not when I was at her place, not with her fifteen-year-old daughter around. But I was burning up from the inside like a pot with all the water boiled out.

The wait was driving me insane. Granted, this past month had been really busy for Camille at her store, so I hadn’t insisted on her giving me more time, but things had changed between us. Even if we hadn’t taken it to the next level physically.

All I knew was that I was about to get back on that roller coaster that was my rich and famous and miserable existence and I didn’t want to do it without her.

I simply couldn’t.

“Dante?” she called my name, dragging me out of my spiraling thoughts. Instantly, I was back at the party, people around us laughing and enjoying themselves.

“Things are going to be a bit different for me in a few weeks,” I started quietly, my hands still on her back. “I’m going to be joining the countersuit Frank is filing against the label.”

“Oh.” There was a soft gasp, her lips parting a little, her eyes never leaving mine. “What does that mean?”

“It means there’ll be a lot of stuff in the press. About me. My publicist suggests I don’t sit this out and that I go on the offensive. We’ll probably start doing some exclusives. She’s already working on some appearances. Events.”

“Paparazzi,” Camille supplied.

“Exactly. People stalking me, taking photos of me doing random shit like grocery shopping or hiking.”

“You do your own grocery shopping?”

“No, that’s just an example.” I moved my hand to her neck and touched her hair.

“Okay.” She tilted her head, almost if she was inviting me to explore more of her, and continued to look at me, waiting.

“Reporters will probably connect the dots about Ally and you.”

“So you’re saying that we might get some unwanted press attention.”

“Yes, it’s a possibility, especially with the lawsuit being a pretty big deal.”

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