Page 56 of Little Did You Know

Hannah's phone skittered across the table, the vibration unnaturally loud in my heightened awareness. Once. Twice. Three times.

My lips found Olivia's ear, the bass concealing my whispered command. “Come for me, baby.” She bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out as she did exactly what I told her to do. She came apart quietly, beautifully, a perfect performance of composure even as her nails bit into my thigh.

She went limp against me as I slid my hand from between her thighs. "Are you alright?" I whispered as Justin appeared back at the table. I quickly and hopefully unnoticeably put distance between Olivia and me. Justin sat down with new drinks in front of us, and I took a long sip. I was so hard and horny that I wasn't sure I would be able to walk out normally. Hannah's phone began to vibrate again and again and again. She sure was popular tonight. Hannah and Liam were still on the dance floor, but I imagined they'd be headed back shortly.

"I'm looking forward to your Labor Day party," Justin stated and took a drink of his beer. "Will you be there, Olivia?"

Olivia looked up at me, confused.

"Yes, she'll be there. I've been so busy lately, I kind of forgot about it." Hannah's phone vibrated again. "What the hell is up with her phone?"

Justin shrugged. "I don't know. It's been quiet all night."

Hannah and Liam slid back into their seats, laughing like star-struck teenagers. I wasn't sure it was evident to the two of them yet, but they were both head over heels for each other.

"Hannah, your phone has been vibrating," I said once the two secret love birds calmed down.

"Oh, thanks." Hannah reached for her phone with the casual grace. Her smile faded. Her free hand, usually steady, began to fidget with her pendant. When she looked up at me, the panic in her eyes made my chest tighten.

My spine stiffened. "What?" I snapped harsher than I meant to, getting everyone else's attention.

Hannah's face drained of color as she stared at her phone, the blue light making her look almost ghostly. The transformation from carefree to crisis mode happened in microseconds—a tell I'd seen too many times before.

"They know you're here." Her voice barely carried over the music, but it hit like a thunderclap. The alert system we'd set up after the last scandal was lighting up her screen like a Christmas tree.

I snatched her phone, but the damage was already spreading across social media like wildfire. The first picture loaded, then another, then another—a digital cascade of intimate moments transformed into ammunition. Each swipe revealed a new angle, a new moment stolen. Someone had been watching. Waiting. Planning.

The crowd at the door was thickening. Phones rising like periscopes above the sea of bodies. The exits were disappearing one by one. "We need to get out of here," I snapped as I noticed the crowd piling in the door. "Fuck. Justin, get her out of here. Jackson's parked outback. Liam took Hannah, and I'll follow."

Justin's hand shot out, closing around Olivia's wrist. "Let's go." He pulled her from the booth, already moving toward the back exit with the single-minded focus of a man who'd done this too many times before.

Olivia stumbled, her heels catching on the uneven floor. Her shorter legs couldn't match Justin's escape route. One misstep sent her lurching forward—but Justin was already there, scooping her up without breaking stride, her surprised gasp lost in the chaos.

Camera flashes erupted like artillery fire, each burst painting stark shadows against the exposed brick walls. Questions flew like shrapnel—"Nick, over here!" "Who's the girl?" "How long have you been seeing her?"—their voices competing with the throbbing bass line. I shouldered through the industrial kitchen, past startled line cooks and steaming pots that filled the air with competing aromas of garlic and grilled meat. Steam from the dishwasher created a momentary curtain of cover, beads of moisture clinging to my thousand-dollar jacket. The back door's emergency bar was sticky with years of use, its metallic clang setting off car alarms in the rain-slicked alley beyond.

I rushed forward toward my SUV, glancing over my shoulder. They weren’t far behind me. Reaching for the door handle, I jerked it open before sliding in and slamming the door shut. The media were relentless and now Olivia would be a target because she was tied to me.

Justin sank back into the leather seat, his tie loosened. "That was fun." His trademark smirk didn't quite reach his eyes. "We should do that again soon."

My jaw clenched so tight I could hear my teeth grinding. "Shut up, Justin."

I caught Jackson's eye in the rearview mirror, where concern creased the corners of his usually stoic expression. "Jackson, take us to my house, please." The words came out exhausted, all the fight draining from my voice.

The house's security lights cast sharp shadows across the manicured lawn as Jackson pulled through the gates. Inside, my footsteps echoed off marble floors, the sound hitting different in the pre-dawn quiet. I flipped on the television for the late-night news.

"What was on the phone, Nick?" Justin asked again. I looked over to Olivia, who hadn't said a word. I handed him the phone, but it appeared on the television before he could look at the pictures. There was more than one, and they all seemed highly intimate. They were dark, but you could tell it was Olivia and me leaning into each other. Olivia's eyes were wide as she watched the pictures flip on the screen.

The news cycle churned on, our intimate moment already dissolving into the next celebrity scandal. But the damage lingered in the room like smoke. Justin's jaw worked silently—running scenarios, calculating fallout. Liam's fingers never stopped moving across his phone, digital walls being built in real-time. Hannah's eyes darted between her social media feeds and Olivia.

Olivia hadn't moved, hadn't looked up. Her stillness was worse than tears or accusations. The flush of pleasure from earlier had been replaced by something else—the first taste of what loving me really meant. The cost of it.

Fury rose in my throat like bile. At myself, for letting my guard down. At the vultures who'd turned our moment into content. But mostly at the carefully orchestrated nature of it all. The timing. The angles. The steady progression of images that told a story someone wanted to sell. This wasn't opportunistic paparazzi work. This was calculated. Personal.

"It's not that-" The words died in Liam’s throat as another photo appeared on screen. Then another. Each one more intimate than the last. The timeline showed careful calculation—someone had been documenting every touch, every whisper, every stolen moment.

"Nick." Justin's voice was steady. The voice he used when damage control was already spinning out of his reach. "We've handled worse."

"Have we?" Anger colored my tone. I couldn’t think of a time where I'd put someone I cared about in such an awkward situation.

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