Page 26 of Dissonance
He beams, running entirely on adrenaline and applause.
“ZeroSaint, over here,” a guy with a goatee and shockingly red hair calls out, waving him over. “Come do the glambot.”
“Fuck yes.” He’s already moving, arms wide. “This is my moment.”
The robot arm whirs to life as he drags a hand down his chest, tongue out, eyes locked on the lens. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and tugs just enough to be provocative, revealing the top of thick dark hair. I wince despite myself. It’s ridiculous, it’s excessive, it’s obscene, and the internet’s going to go absolutely feral for it.
Zane lets out a sharp laugh behind me, shouldering past to lift his phone higher. I exhale hard through my nose, lips pulling into a polite expression I don’t mean. Applause ripples through the small crowd as the playback loops on a nearby tablet—Tyler, pure sex and sin in slow motion.
“Not exactly the same lad from the studio, is he?”
I turn at the voice—low, close, appearing from nowhere. Lockie’s at my side, jaw set, eyes forward, not on Tyler, but on Zane. There’s a stillness to him that doesn’t belong in a room like this, his expression hardening into a scowl.
“No,” I say, following his line of sight before looking up at him. “That’s all ZeroSaint.”
He nods once, a muscle ticking in his cheek, and I let myself actually take him in. My heart nearly stops. Black suit, tailored, no tie, top button undone. Nothing flashy, not trying to impress like everyone else, just a man who looks like he was poured into something that fits him exactly right, completely unbothered by being at one of the most photographed events in the world.
I pull my gaze away before it gets me into trouble, landing on his hands instead. Long fingers relaxed at his sides, the faintest flex like he’s keeping himself in check, the kind no one in this room would notice or know how to read.
I do. I know.
“Looks like he’s handling himself,” Lockie says, watching Tyler make his way toward Cooper.
“Are you kidding?” I ask, tucking a curl behind my ear. “This is exhausting.” I nod toward the crowd now surrounding both of them. “I don’t know how you do it. Following Cooper everywhere. Every event, every city.”
“Cooper’s easy now,” he says. “When I first got him…” Something warm crosses his face as he shakes his head. “He was larger than life. Young, loud, thought sleep was optional.”
I look out at Cooper, watching him throw his head back in laughter, Declan’s eyes creasing as he smiles and lifts Cooper’s hand to his lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles.
“That seems like a lifetime ago.”
“You gave him that.”
My head snaps to him. “I didn’t—”
“You did,” he says simply. No challenge in his tone, just fact. “Without you, he’d still be caught in the same toxic cycle he’d been in for years.”
The noise of the room swells around us—laughter, camera flashes, the excited current of a few hundred conversations overlapping—and somewhere in the middle of it, I’ve gone completely still. Too aware of how close he’s standing. Too aware of the warmth radiating off him into the space between us.
“You should have a proper team around you,” he says, like someone who’s been watching me all night and doesn’t like what he sees. “A full publicist, someone on the ground at these things so you’re not running everything yourself.”
That familiar defensiveness rises fast. “I can handle everything just fine on my own.”
“I know you can. Doesn’t mean you should have to.”
And just when I thought we were being civil.
“I love my job, Lachlan. I don’t want to be sitting in an office while other people—”
His hand lifts, fingers settling warm at the side of my neck. The rest of the sentence dies in my throat as his thumb moves once, twice, slow and light over my pulse point while we stand in the middle of the Grammys, and I’m doing nothing to stop it.
“Thea—”
“Don’t,” I whisper, even as I lean into his touch.
“You look stunning tonight.” His hand drops, leaving a cold outline where his palm rested.
“You’re blurring lines,” I murmur, stepping back, needing space.
