Page 50 of Out of the Shadow

Not moving an inch, I whisper, “I sold it.”

Milo grins as he films King doing a double-take. “What?”

Pushing away from the door, I stride up to him and pull out the signed offer. “Sold. Full asking price. In cash.”

King snatches the document out of my hands and studies it. “I can’t believe it. But he didn’t say anything.”

I smile and pluck the paper out of his hands, returning it to my portfolio. “The husband is surprising them. It’s a gift for when school gets out.”

A huge smile overtakes his face and I’m struck by how genuine it is—and by how absolutely gorgeous he is. “That’s great, Angie! Congratulations!”

He envelopes me in a hug so tight all the air leeches from my body. Yup. That’s the only reason my breathing has bottomed out. My body’s reaction has nothing at all to do with the way his muscular arms feel against my back, or how his broad chest rubs against my front.

Nothing. At. All.

MILO AND THEcamera crew set up a respectful distance from us and start filming. Next to me, King fusses with his cuffs, which are perfect. The limo dropped us off about fifteen minutes ago—Kaitlyn thought our arrival should make a “splash”—and even though we’re backstage, we haven’t seen the band yet.

I need to get him out of his head. “Wow. Look at how packed the beach is.” The Jones Beach stage is in a pavilion built right on the edge of the ocean.

King peers out onto the crowd. “My father knows how to pack them in.”

So much for that. It’s my turn to play with the hem of the overly-revealing dress Shelley gave me to wear tonight. Suddenly, the lights in the auditorium drop and the crowd goes wild. Electricity zings through my body. I steal a glance at King, who remains stoic.

I hear them before I see them. The musicians banter as they head to the stage, only we’re right in their path.

“Hey, King? That you? Heard you were going to be here tonight!”

Both of our heads swivel as a tall guy with dark brown eyes and short brown hair approaches us. I suck in my breath, but King smiles. “Uncle Colton!”

Colton pulls him into a big bear hug and I have to jump so as not to be hit by the bass guitar strapped around his body. As soon as the bassist lets him go, Ricky and Lex, the drummer and keyboardist for Hunte, grab him for hugs. I keep myself firmly in the background to give them their moment. King seems happy.

That happiness is chased away when Braxton—my first celebrity crush, in the flesh—appears. Even pushing his mid-fifties, this man still lives up to all the hype about his charisma. King certainly comes from a superior gene pool. Truth is, he’s actually better looking than his father was at his age, but no way I’d confess this to him. Or anyone.

King’s ego doesn’t need any stroking.

“Son?”

King’s chin lifts. “Hi, Dad.”

The two men embrace. Well, they sort of touch their arms around each other in an awkward way that’s nowhere near as exuberant as the hugs King shared with the other members of the band. I hope Milo didn’t catch that. The audience starts chanting “Hunte!”

“Well, we’d better go and give them what they want,” Braxton says.

“Can’t let them down,” King replies.

I bite my bottom lip.

Braxton turns away, although I can see his shoulders rising and falling as if on a big sigh. He shakes his head and shouts, “Ready, guys?”

“Hell, yes!” the three other men in the band reply, and they sail out onto the stage.

The concert is amazing. I can’t stop myself from dancing and singing as Hunte performs right in front of us. They’re like a well-oiled machine, knowing when to pump up the crowd and dial it back for maximum effect.

Every so often, though, Braxton glances at King as if to assure himself his son’s still there.

At the end, Braxton takes the mic. “Thank you, Long Island!” The band leaves the stage, stripping off their instruments and shirts, which roadies replace with new ones. Even though they’re no longer the hotshot younger set, I have to hand it to them—they all sport killer bods.

“King,” Braxton calls out.

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