ADA

There are a few photographers lingering in front of my building when Liam takes me home, so the driver pulls around to a side street.

"You two wait here," Briggs says over his shoulder as he climbs out, scanning the area to make sure it's clear.

I'm tangled up with Liam in the backseat, arms around each other, fingers brushing against skin, which is basically the same position we spent the entire movie in. If I hadn't seen Roman Holiday approximately five hundred times before, I wouldn't even be able to tell you if Ann ends up with Joe Bradley in the end.

Briggs gives a quick tap on Liam's window and nods, letting us know it's safe.

Liam hops out and reaches back to help me down. I take his hand. I don't need the help, but I'll happily use any excuse to touch him.

Briggs leans against the front of Range Rover, giving us some space while keeping an eye out.

It's almost midnight, but the air is heavy and humid. Our shoes crunch on the loose gravel of the asphalt as we cut through the alleyway to the back entrance of my brownstone. Laughter echoes from one of the Juliette-style balconies on the building next door.

"You know," I say, nudging Liam with my shoulder, "you really aren't a bad chef. I think I might've even been impressed."

"Might've been, huh?" Liam grins down at me. His eyes are bright in the darkness.

"Jury's still out. I think we're going to need a do-over. You know, just to be sure."

Liam laughs. "That can be arranged." He wraps an arm around me and presses a kiss to my hair.

Flash. Flash. Flash. Flash. Flash.

I startle, blinking in surprise. This place was deserted two seconds ago. I have no idea where the photographer was hiding. I squint trying to see who it is, but their camera doesn't stop flashing. It blazes again and again until my eyes burn. My vision is nothing but searing spots.

Liam's hand finds mine, holding tight as he tries to steer me toward the building.

"Hey, Liam," the photog shouts, and I'm surprised when the voice belongs to a girl. "Have you talked to your dad lately?"

Everything inside me turns to ice. I know that voice. It's Chrissy.

Liam stops walking. His body goes rigid. His hand is like a vice around mine.

"Where's he living now?" Chrissy hollers, camera still firing away.

I hear Liam's sharp intake of breath, feel the panic pouring off him.

Mia must've told Chrissy about Liam's dad. And if she knows about his dad, then she's here digging for details to help her get a shot Agnes can use to sell his secret.

This is all my fault. If I'd never made that deal with Agnes, this wouldn't be happening. I don't know if I'm more angry at myself or Chrissy. I can't think through the haze of guilt and fury that engulfs me.

I tug my hand free of Liam's, striding over to Chrissy.

"Ada, don't—" Liam calls, but I'm already in her face.

I put my hand over her lens, shoving it away from Liam. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Get out of my face, you psycho," Chrissy yells. "I'm doing my job!"

"I'm the psycho? Who's the one stalking their coworker?" I shout.

Briggs is between us in the next heartbeat, blocking Chrissy's view of Liam and me and forcing her back.

My chest shudders. I'm on the verge of crying. My tear ducts have always been hardwired into my temper. I end up bawling my eyes out anytime I'm truly pissed off. I turn to Liam. His eyes are tight with concern, which cracks something open inside of me, and a sob tears loose. He pulls me against him and hurries me into the building.

The metal door clangs shut behind us, and he strokes my hair, whispering, "It's okay. It's okay." His voice is soothing, but I can feel his anxiety in the tense set of his muscles.

Hot tears course down my cheeks.

Liam takes my face in his hands. "Want to tell me what that was about out there?"

Taking a shuddering breath, I try to pull myself together. A couple more tears escape, and Liam brushes them away with his thumbs.

My lips part, but no words come out. I should tell him why Chrissy's trying to get information on his dad. I should warn him about how determined Agnes is to uncover his story. But I can't. If Liam finds out I'm to blame for this, he'll hate me.

He's watching me, waiting for an explanation. I have to tell him something.

"That girl, she's, um...she's my coworker. One of the ones I'm up against for the job at Huntley. She's been taking pictures of us together and using them to try and beat me."

Liam's eyebrows scrunch. "I thought the shots of us were helping you?"

"They were. They are. When my boss decides to give me points for them anyway. Things are different now that I'm not just pretending to date you to help the agency sell photos."

I stare down at the floor as I speak. It isn't a lie exactly, but it sure tastes like one coming out of my mouth.

When Liam doesn't say anything, I look up at him. He's staring over my shoulder, biting his lips together like he's holding himself back from saying something.

"What?"

"It's just—" He breaks off, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Liam, what?"

He heaves a heavy breath. "I'm trying to understand here. You get so upset about being photographed, but you want to be one of those guys. This is what the paparazzi do to people, don't you see that?"

I step out of Liam's reach. I know I have no right to be mad at him, but I'm so emotionally wrung out, I can't keep my temper from kindling.

"It's not the same thing. I take pictures of people who are actually famous. Chrissy's taking photos of me, her coworker, to beat me in some stupid competition. And don't pretend like you don't use the press to help you get the parts you want."

Liam folds his arms over his chest. "The shots the paps take can be helpful sometimes. But most of the time they're invasive and malicious. I get that this is your dream. But do you really not see how much it hurts people?"

"I do not take pictures that hurt people," I snap, glaring at him.

But then I think about the picture I took of him and his dad and the utter devastation it would cause if it ever got out. Guilt claws at me, but I shove it away, clinging to my anger like a life preserver. It's not as if I'd ever turn it in.

Liam sighs, deflating and scratching the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I don't want to fight. This whole situation is complicated. You know why I have such a hard time with the paparazzi."

All the indignation drains out of me. I feel like I'm going to start crying again. Of course, he despises the photogs after they helped his dad set him up.

"Come here." Liam holds his arms out to me, and I let him pull me into him. I lean my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. "We'll figure this out," he says.

I nod.

"That girl out there," Liam's voice is quiet, "she looked familiar. Is she the photog Mia was talking to at the StarTracker party?"

"I think so," I say, even though I know for a fact Mia was talking to Chrissy.

"Do you—" Liam clears his throat. "Do you know why she was asking about my dad?"

I shake my head, grateful he can't see me. My lies are probably written all over my face.

"Those questions she asked tonight—that was weird timing. But it's probably just a coincidence." His voice is distant like he's trying to convince himself. He runs his fingers lightly over my cheeks and tilts my chin up. "Listen, you're going to beat her, Ace. You're going to get that job. Want to know how I know?"

"How?" I can barely get the word out through the guilt choking me. I can't believe he's comforting me right now.

"Because you're the Paparazzi Queen."

I can't help it. I burst out laughing.

Liam smooths a hand over my hair. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," I whisper, grateful he doesn't know all the things I'm sorry for.

"I'm not usually the type of guy to tell a girl she needs to smile if she doesn't want to," Liam says. "But if you walk into your apartment crying, I think your dad might murder me."

I snort." You're probably not wrong." I wipe a finger beneath my eyes, checking for makeup smudges. "How do I look?"

"Gorgeous. Always gorgeous."

I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him, trying to ignore the worry devouring me from the inside out.

⭐️😘