After Lauren had finished that fic, she’d found herself unable to stop staring at her own forearm for minutes afterward.
“You did?” He beamed at her. “Oh, good.”
Marcus groaned and scrubbed both hands over his face.
“Anyway, I already have over two hundred comments and a thousand kudos.” Alex buffed his fingernails against his really soft-looking gray-blue jacket, which he’d layered over a crisp white tee. “All exceedingly well deserved, if I do say so myself.”
When Marcus had climbed into her car that morning, his wretched mental state hadn’t been hard to spot. He was hollow-eyed and slumped, his mouth downturned despite all his attempts at politeness and good cheer.
Now he appeared slightly less despondent, but significantly more freaked out.
“And you do say so. Much too loudly,” he whispered. “Alex, shut the hell up before you get yourself fired, man.”
“I felt much better after writing that story.” Alex leaned back against his seat, hands folded behind his head, the picture of contentedness. “Now I know why people journal. Only I don’t think the writing would be as satisfying without the pegging.”
His head tilted as he considered the matter. “Then again, many people’s journals probably include pegging, and good for them.”
Then, thankfully, they were nearing the circular hotel entrance, and she braced herself. For fans, of course, but also for possible paparazzi. According to Sionna’s email that morning, the incident outside the salon yesterday had gone viral, and bloggers and media outlets were likely clamoring for Alex’s commentary on the matter.
To Lauren’s relief, she wasn’t yet part of the public story. They haven’t figured out you’re the woman that asshole fan insulted, Sionna had written, probably because she didn’t include the part of the film where you removed her groping hand. All the better to pretend she was the innocent victim in the confrontation.
Lauren had gone offline again to protect her own equanimity, but she wasn’t a fool. At some point, someone was going to realize that the woman who’d deflected a red-carpet attack on Alex was the same woman he’d defended from insult in the viral video, and then—
Honestly, she had no idea what would happen. But she still didn’t want to explain her role in his life. Her job was an insult to him.
He didn’t need a keeper. He needed companionship and understanding.
The car was slowing as they neared the drop-off area, and she couldn’t pretend she was calm. Not when her palms prickled with sweat and her heart skittered in her chest at the prospect of confronting crowds by Alex’s side.
Even without the prospect of paparazzi, she’d be worried. About bloggers and fans and hotel employees and … everyone.
One derisive sidelong look, one passing comment about her face or her body, and he’d detonate. She knew it.
In his car yesterday, she’d watched hurt and anger—at her, for her—darken those storm cloud eyes and twist his perfect face. She’d cradled the hot, vulnerable nape of his neck in her hand as he shared stories he’d told no one else, as he shared his pain, as he shared his huge, loving, impulsive, honorable heart.
And she’d told him to follow his instincts, because how could she not? In that moment, how could she spurn his generous emotional response to her?
But even if she’d asked him not to react, she wasn’t sure he’d be able to contain himself if someone insulted her.
Because he cared about her more than his career.
It was bizarre. Bizarre and touching and, frankly, terrifying.
Whatever they’d become to one another over the past fraught months had an end date. In less than a year, she’d be gone from his life, while he could have several decades left in his career. Rationally, it made absolutely no sense to risk his professional reputation for her sake.
But when it came to anyone he cared about, Alex wasn’t rational. At all.
That reckless loyalty caught at her throat and hitched her breath, and it also scared the living hell out of her. As she’d told him so many damn times, she didn’t want to be the means by which he destroyed anything precious to him. And he’d clawed his way to professional success over two decades of hard, hard work, despite the complications posed by his ADHD, so his reputation in the entertainment industry wasn’t merely precious.
It was irreplaceable.
Whether he agreed or not, it was obviously way more important than whether some random person she didn’t give two hoots about thought she was ugly.