Page 52 of Enticing the Enforcer
And that terrifies me. Because the better it is, the harder it is to believe it’s real.
I smooth my hands down my stage outfit, catching my reflection in the mirror. Shimmering eyes, perfect hair, lips painted just so. A pop star, through and through. But under the glitter, there’s still the girl who’s been left behind more times than she’s been chosen. The girl who’s learned that love often comes with conditions–if only you weren’t so busy, if only you weren’t so famous, if only you weren’t so much.
Madison nudges me gently out of my head, or more like she’s reading it. “So…you’re sure he’s not after something?”
“Yeah,” I say, soft but certain. “I don’t think he is. What could a drafted pro hockey player possibly need from me?”
The truth is, the road ahead won’t be easy. We’re both chasing demanding careers, pulled in a dozen directions we don’t get to control. That’s always been the breaking point for me–men who couldn’t handle being second to the thing I love most, who wanted me to shrink just enough so they could feel taller. Jefferson will have to decide if he’s strong enough to standnext to me without asking me to make myself small. I guess I’ll have to decide that too. For now, I want to believe we can figure it out.
“The girls say he’s a notorious fuckboy.” Madison’s tone is light, but the jab lands sharp. “You could just be another notch on his headboard.”
“You’re right, I could be,” I admit, forcing myself not to flinch. “But I can’t live in that headspace, Mads. I like him. He likes me. He’s shown up for me in ways he didn’t have to, and I believe that means something.”
After Jake, I wasn’t sure if I could let myself believe that wanting someone doesn’t automatically mean losing everything else I’ve built. That maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to choose between being loved and being enough.
Jefferson isn’t Jake.
I have to remember that.
The roarof the crowd is deafening, and I walk off the stage buzzing, that jittery after-high that comes from after a show. Jefferson waits for me just off stage, leaning against a speaker, his thick arms crossed over his chest, grinning at me.
I don’t even think. Not about who can see me, not about what it looks like. I run straight into his arms. He catches me effortlessly, lifting me up and spinning me around. I squeal, half laughing, half delirious from the adrenaline.
“You were amazing,” he whispers in my ear, his voice warm and rough, the kind that makes me melt no matter how many times I hear it.
“You weren’t bored?” I ask, pulling back to search his face. “Coming two nights in a row?”
He presses a kiss to my mouth. “Nothing about you bores me.”
Swoon. Literal swoon. My knees would’ve buckled if he wasn’t already holding me up.
“Well, the next part is boring,” I tease as he lowers me to the ground. “I have to peel this costume off and scrub a pound of makeup off my face.”
“I like it,” he says, keeping me close. His big hand trails slowly down my back. “Warrior mode. It reminds me of the locker room. Post-game. Especially after a win.”
I grin, catching that glint in his eyes. “I can see that. The energy’s elevated. My team killed it tonight. The show went off flawlessly–for the audience, at least. We always see the little crises, the mix-ups, the missteps. But as long as we smooth it over and make it the best night of their lives, then we’ve done our job.”
“Fuck,” he says, dropping his mouth to mine again. “You’re smart and sexy.”
By the time we make it to the dressing area, I’m starting to come down. Jefferson makes himself at home, sprawling on the couch, long legs stretched out, scrolling on his phone like he’s completely at ease in my world. It doesn’t hurt that he looks like a fashion model, his face angled lines of perfection. Meanwhile, my team gets to work on me–pulling pins from my hair, carefully noting missing sequins, peeling off my lashes. Bit by bit, Ingrid Flockton fades away, until I’m just Ingrid again.
I’m in a new outfit when the door opens and Marv steps inside. His face is blank,tooblank, and instantly my stomach tightens. He leans down to whisper something to Madison. Her brows flick up, and a ripple of unease runs through me.
“What?” I blurt. My voice is sharper than I intend. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Madison says too quickly. “There’s just someone outside who would like to come back.”
That’s not unusual. After almost every show, there’s someone–celebs, local personalities, politicians. I’m used to smiling, shaking hands, playing the gracious host. But the energy between Marv and Madison is off. Too still. Too careful.
“Why are you being weird?” I press, my chest starting to buzz with that telltale anxiety.
Madison sighs, her eyes flicking to Jefferson on the couch. He hasn’t noticed, still focused on whatever’s on his screen. Finally, she meets my gaze.
“It’s Jake,” she says softly, “he’s here and he wants to see you.”
17
Ingrid
