Page 23 of Siren's Game

I pull it out when all three of them look up at me as I round the corner separating our table from the rest of the restaurant.

"So, I spoke to Naroa—" It’s not really a lie. They don't need to know that it was only one word. "Asher and I are pictured all over social media already anyways, so we're leaving together. Hopefully, they'll think we're the only worthwhile celebs in here so you two can leave in peace." I take a deep breath before I address Millie more quietly.

"On a serious note, I love this for you two. If you date, you should really not hard-launch your relationship, be a bit more inconspicuous next time. And don't try to fool us," I add when both of them stare at me with wide eyes. They might think they're sneaky, but their adoration for each other lies in the air so heavily it feels like goddamn soup in my lungs. "We have eyes, we can see what's happening." Then I lean down to give Millie a quick hug. "I'll wait for you at your place?"

"Alright, mom," she says with a giggle as she hugs me back and I shake my head at her when I straighten my back and saunter towards the exit.

When I realize Asher's not following me, I turn around. "Alright, let's go." I motion my head towards the exit, and he jumps up from his seat to follow me.

"Do you want me to hold your hand again?" he asks with a disgustingly wide smile on his face and I roll my eyes. At least he’s taking it with humor now.

"'Want' is a strong word, Asher, but you might have to." I wave at the host to pay on our way out, but Asher swipes his card over the reader before I can even attempt to pay.

Once we step into the elevator hall, I grab his sleeve and pull him into a corner.

"I need to keep my management out of this," I tell him quietly, keeping my eyes out that nobody gets into earshot. He shoots me a curious glance but doesn’t seem overly bothered by it.

"Why?" I notice I’m still holding onto his sleeve, so I quickly let go.

"Long story short, I don't trust our manager and the way she and the label handle our media presence," I disclose in a hushed tone, and he tilts his head, signaling that he’s listening. "They like to throw Millie to the wolves and provide no damn support once she's facing the consequences of their decisions. All they care about is that our brand and music sell; they don't give a fuck about what that does to her. I want to give Luca and her time together before the vultures attack."

“So do I.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I was skeptical, but they seem perfect for each other.”

“I’m glad that we’re on the same page,” I say with my shoulders sagging in relief. “So let’s go.” I take a step forward and he follows diligently.

"So, wait, are you proposing what I think you're proposing?" he asks, walking beside me, a mischievous grin on his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"Huh?" I tilt my head and stop to call the elevator. "I'm not proposing anything other than walking out of here together."

"You're proposing we distract the media from them," he continues, chuckling at my puzzled expression just as the elevator doors open and we walk inside. “So let’s give them a show, girlfriend.”

I freeze. "No, no, no. Get that out of your head. I did not propose that. I only agreed to this double date to get Millie to go."

"Oh yes, you did. Not in so many words, but the implication was clearly there. And let me tell you, Sweetheart, that's a wonderful idea."

"Don't call me Sweetheart."

"Oh, is this our first relationship fight? Would you rather have me call you 'muffin'?"

"Asher, stop it." I hate to admit it, but thinking back . . . did I insinuate it?

Maybe. Is there really no other way to distract the media and fans to let them date in peace?

"We will walk out there like regular ol' friends and tell the people you took me on this dinner to apologize for that interview you gave back then. It's only half a lie anyways."

"Boring." He pouts, then shrugs. "But alright."

"Good," I say, a relieved sigh falling from my lips. When the elevator doors finally open, I just know there is chaos waiting for us. I see the camera flashes before we even round the corner and hear a constant loud murmur.

Thank God the host from upstairs must have alerted the building's security because they're already doing their best to keep the masses of photographers at bay and make us a path to Asher’s car.

"I should have brought sunglasses," Asher sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before he walks right ahead.

"Not like we could have known," I grumble and follow suit.

He hesitates a moment with his hand on the handle before he opens the mirror glass door separating us from outside and I take the opportunity to take a deep breath and try to brace myself for what's to come.

The shouting starts immediately.

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