Page 96 of Siren's Game

He introduces me to his fellow cast members who are occupying the seats around us and I'm a bit starstruck. This is not the crowd I usually see at industry functions—actors tend to stay away from music award shows, and musicians from movie premiers.

But here I am, busy shaking hands, introducing myself and doing small talk until the producer and director walk on stage to talk a bit about the movie before it starts.

I grimace when I sit down. This dress is really damn revealing.

Immediately, Asher shrugs out of his jacket and throws it over my lap.

"Thank you,” I tell him in a whisper and lean my head against his shoulder for a moment. “How long is this movie?"

Before he answers, he puts up the armrest between us, grabs my hand, and pulls it onto his thigh.

"Just shy of two hours," he says just as quietly, chuckling lowly when he hears my deep sigh. "I'll wake you up if you snore."

"I don't snore." I nudge him with my elbow. "And I won't fall asleep. Why would I fall asleep?"

"Because you find people-ing exhausting and you just did a lot of it." He kisses my temple, and then lifts our hands to kiss the back of it. "Thank you."

I want to object, but I suddenly break into a wide yawn. Damn, that came out of nowhere.

When Asher opens his mouth, without a doubt to whisper an 'I told you so,' I glare at him and he closes it again quickly.

"That being said, ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy the movie."

I don't avert my eyes as I pull my hand out of his grasp to clap along with the rest of the audience as the director walks off stage.

"Love you too, Sweetheart," Asher says with a teasing undertone and reaches for my hand again as soon as I lower them. I tense for a second.

This isn’t the first time he said it, but something inside me still clams up when he speaks the dreaded ‘L’ word. Not because I don’t feel the same, but . . . emotions. It makes me tear up every single time. I bite the inside of my cheek until the sting in my eyes subsides.

The lights go off and the movie starts.

I'm sorry to say, but within ten minutes, I'm bored out of my mind. Which isn't a bad thing, mind you, because I have horrible taste in movies and action movies are just absolutely not my thing.

So while it's super impressive how Asher and his fellow cast members are flying through the air while shooting pistols and punch the bad guys, my thoughts trail off and right back to where I don’t want them to go.

What if Millie and I won't make it out of the contract? What if we have to stop making music?

I thought we'd only have to pay Starlet Sounds a shit ton of money, but it turns out they might be able to force us into staying after all.

At least that's what our lawyers said. Or rather, Asher’s dad’s lawyers. Then again, the more communication with Starlet Sounds’ lawyers happened, the more ours turned into sharks sniffing blood, ready to find the smallest, slightest loophole, just for the satisfaction of winning.

Especially Mark. The older gentleman of the two seemed extremely confident they might find something in the contract to guarantee our freedom at least.

So tomorrow, Millie and I will be at Starlet Sounds for hopefully the last time as the lawyers negotiate in legalese and we sit aside to and nod at appropriate moments. In an ideal world, they're going to draw up an agreement and with a few signatures, everything is done.

And I cling to this daydream of how it's going to go. Because the alternative is another few years of working with that record label and I don't even want to let my thoughts go there. I’ve grown so sick of them, even the thought of going there tomorrow is making the hair on my neck stand up.

"What are you thinking about?" Asher asks, letting go of my hand to reach for my knee. Then he captures my hand with his other one.

Only now do I realize that my leg is twitching furiously, bouncing up and down restlessly with my recurring nervousness. Quickly, I slip out of my shoe because it’s pretty loud.

"Tomorrow," I whisper back. He squeezes my knee as he leans closer to my ear.

"Pay attention to the movie, Sweetheart." I roll my eyes. If it were that easy, I’d be doing it.

But then his hand leaves my knee and wanders up my thigh, under his jacket, until it vanishes under the flimsy fabric of my dress, pulling it off the tape keeping it in place to wander even higher.

"What are you doing?" I hiss and try to pull his hand off, but he only starts shaking with a chuckle.

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