She reached for my hand and squeezed it, then pulled me in for a tight hug. She held me close. “You are so beautiful and kind and amazing, and I just wanted to tell you that.” She let me go and fanned herself, blinking rapidly. “I can’t cry, not in front of those two behind us, but Jo,” her hands fell to my arms. “When you took your contacts out, I couldn’t believe it! That was amazing.” A fond expression entered her eyes. “Thank you for trusting me.”

I was the lucky one. She had no idea.

“Okay. For real. We have to go or I’m going to break down.”

I nodded. “I’ll be right behind you. I need to check my phone quick.”

She raised her voice, calling over my head, “Thank you for everything, guys!”

They waved.

I wanted to see Kian. He was next on my list to make sure everything was right between us. I called him and texted. There was no response before the interview. Checking my phone now as Erica went to the door, a lump lodged itself in my throat when I saw one simple and solitary text message.

Outside.

There was something hot and delicious about that one word, but I was also nervous as hell. If he was angry, if he was disappointed, if he was hurt—I couldn’t think about those scenarios.

I followed Erica outside, but leaned close once the door shut behind us. “He’s here.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Who?” But she leaned her head close, dropping her voice. “Kian?”

I nodded.

She glanced at the door. “Let’s go before they do. They’ll use him being here for part of their package.”

“Package?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes narrowed a tiny bit. “The interview went live, but they’ll use this footage in their own package, too. I’m sure they’ll broadcast it tonight.”

“Oh.” That made sense. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll spin it in a positive way.”

The two officers were standing next to the door. Wanker was leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets. All three of them regarded me. There was no Kian, but he was here. He was somewhere. I could feel him.

I started for the corner, but paused. “Erica?” I looked at her.

She waved me off. “Go. Be with your man. I’m going to get drunk to celebrate.”

That was all I needed, and immediately, the warmth of knowing I’d see Kian shortly filled me up. I started walking around the corner.

“Uh…” Wanker started to say.

Erica hushed him. She said, “He’s here. She’s looking for him.”

“Uh…” One second. “Oh!”

“Miss Emory.” One of the officers cleared his throat. He was behind me, following. “We should get in the car.”

I didn’t stop. I knew Kian was here.

“Ma’am?”

I was almost to the corner. The interview was done. I did what I had to do. It was time to see Kian again. A low buzzing sensation started in my stomach. I couldn’t wait to see him. I couldn’t wait to be in his arms once again.

“Miss Emory, I’m going to have to insist that we go back to my car.” The officer was beside me now.

He was moving forward, and I felt him closing in. He was going to try to stop me. At the same time, his hand lifted for his radio. Then I rounded the corner.

There he was.

There was no car. Instead, he wore a leather jacket, and he was waiting on a motorcycle. The kickstand was out, his bike resting on it. His face was hidden underneath a helmet, but it was him.

I started for him, not thinking anymore. I was done thinking.

“Miss Emory,” the cop started again.

I went to Kian. As I walked toward him, I felt it in me. I didn’t know when it happened. I didn’t know what would happen in the future, but he was there. A helmet was in his hand and I knew it was for me. I reached for it, starting to pull it on. He stopped me. His hand fell onto mine, and he turned my face up to his. He stared at my eyes and after a moment, a soft grin tugged the corner of his lips up. A look of pride filled his gaze, and it swelled in me too. I really was done hiding.

His hand fell from mine and as I pulled on the helmet, the cop sighed. “We’re supposed to keep you safe all day today. We’ll follow you then?”

I swung my leg up and climbed behind Kian. My arms wrapped around him.

He spoke for me, “We’ll be at my hotel.”

I stopped listening. He told the cop where we would be. They would come. They’d do their job, be around me so the public couldn’t hurt me. They did it before, and they’d do it again. Until things settled down, they would continue doing so, but I wasn’t considering them anymore. After the interview, saying my side, and having Kian waiting for me, everything would be okay.

It had to be.

He had come for me, and when I went to him, I knew right then and there… I was in love with Kian Maston.

If someone told me three years ago, as I was covered in blood and sitting in the back of an ambulance while watching Edmund’s covered body being wheeled past me on a gurney, that I would be riding on the back of a motorcycle with Kian Maston, I would’ve laughed my ass off. From the hysteria, the absolute perplexity of it, that both of us would be infamous, that we’d be hiding under black motorcycle helmets, and that I would’ve just realized I was in love with him—I would’ve laughed, cried, and punched whoever told me that.

But here I was.

Kian’s hand would cover mine whenever we stopped at a stoplight, waiting at an intersection. It was completely ludicrous, what we were both doing, but I didn’t care. If we were together, the media would never stop. If we went our separate ways, maybe we would have a chance for a normal life, but I couldn’t walk away from him. That was all I knew. It’d been this way for a while, ever since he came back into my life. I hadn’t been able to stay away, much less walk away.

We went back to his hotel. I was tense going in, but no one was there.

Seeing my look, Kian chuckled. He still held my hand, and he tugged me farther inside. “When I saw the interview, I asked everyone to leave. They went to their own rooms for the night.”

“The whole night?”

He nodded. A shadow fell over his face. He asked almost tenderly, “Is that okay?”

I couldn’t talk. My throat closed up, but I moved my head up and down. It was more than okay.