Page 11

Mel

I nodded to two guards I didn’t recognize as I made my way up the stairs to my suite. Their faces were expressionless, professional, intimidating. Just like Ethan and his team wanted them to be. How many new people had we added in the last two days? Eight? Ten? I’d lost count.

My temples throbbed. After forty-eight hours of nonstop security upgrades, house modifications, and Nova’s near-constant meltdowns about it all, my head felt ready to explode.

I pushed open the door to my suite and instantly kicked off the black heels that had been torturing me all day. Blessed relief. I carefully placed them beside the closet where I’d need them again after my brief respite. The “all hands” security meeting with Ethan’s team was in a few hours, and Nova expected me in my manager attire.

Nova’s expectations. Always Nova’s expectations.

I unbuttoned my blazer, hanging it precisely on the wooden hanger, smoothing out any wrinkles. Next came the pencil skirt and silk blouse, both arranged neatly for later use. Every movement was meticulous, practiced. I’d become an expert at maintaining Nova’s idea of what her manager should look like.

My phone buzzed again. Of course.

Mel these new guards won’t let Karina in and she has my special protein shakes!!!

OMG they’re doing ANOTHER sweep of my closet. How many times do they need to check???

That scary guy with the computers TOOK MY PHONE and did something to it!!!

I set the phone down without responding. Nova would survive without my immediate reassurance for once. Right now, I needed to breathe.

I slipped into worn jeans and a faded T-shirt, pulling my hair free from its tight bun. My scalp tingled as blood flow returned. Heaven. Pure heaven.

This was me. The real me. Not Nova Rivers’s manager, not the professional in heels and perfectly tailored clothes. Just Mel. And right now, Mel needed something that was just for her.

I wandered into the sitting room adjoining my bedroom. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, casting golden squares across the hardwood floor. My easel stood in the corner, waiting patiently, just as it had since I’d set it up when we first moved in eighteen months ago after Nova’s career exploded.

Nova loved to tease me about my “little artistic endeavors.” Like my painting was a cute hobby, something to be patted on the head for. She had no idea what it really meant to me. To be fair, I wasn’t sure I could explain it even if I tried.

I wasn’t talented—not like Nova. I’d never have a career as an artist, nor did I want one. But when I painted, everything else fell away. The constant demands, the endless texts, the weight of responsibility—they all disappeared the moment the brush touched canvas.

I switched my phone to silent and set it facedown on the table. Just for a little while.

My paints were arranged by color, my brushes clean and waiting. I squeezed rich blues onto my palette first—the color of possibility, of sky, of freedom. I mixed in whites to create the perfect shade, applying it to the top of the canvas with broad, confident strokes.

There was no hesitation here. No second-guessing. Just the certainty of color against white.

Next came greens, vibrant and lush, combining to create rolling hills beneath the endless sky. I lost myself in the blending, the feathering of edges where grass met horizon. Eventually, I added a small house in the distance, just a suggestion of structure and safety.

Outside this fictional home, tiny figures took shape—children playing, a dog bounding across the grass. It wasn’t an ambitious scene. In fact, it was nearly identical to paintings I’d done before. But I never tired of creating this particular world.

A world far from tour schedules and security threats. A world where children laughed without bodyguards nearby. A place where a dog could run without hitting a fence. A life without millions of eyes watching, waiting for a mistake.

The sun shifted as I worked, casting different shadows across my canvas. I didn’t notice. My brush moved, colors blended, and time disappeared.

Until I glanced at my watch.

“Shit!”

The meeting with Ethan and his team had started five minutes ago. I was late—me, who was never late for anything. I dropped my brush in the water jar and frantically wiped my hands on a rag.

No time to change. No time to put on my manager armor. I sprinted for the door, my paint-dotted hands a splash of color against the doorknob.

Rushing down the hallway, I felt exposed in my casual clothes and loose hair. The guards I passed did double-takes, clearly barely recognizing the transformed version of the buttoned-up manager they’d seen earlier.

I reached the conference room and paused just outside, taking a deep breath. Then I pushed open the door.

All conversation ceased. Every head turned in my direction.

Nova’s perfectly shaped eyebrows shot up, her lips parting in surprise. “Wow, Mel. Slumming it today?”

Dexter, seated beside her, let out a theatrical gasp. “My God, she’s wearing jeans. I didn’t know you owned anything but pencil skirts.” His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Did your business casual wardrobe finally stage a rebellion?”

Heat crawled up my neck as I slid into the empty chair. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t worry,” Nova stage-whispered. “We were just getting started. Though you might want to check a mirror before any more public appearances.”

I resisted the urge to touch my face, knowing it would only make Nova laugh harder.

Ethan cleared his throat, drawing attention away from me. “Let’s get back to business.” His eyes met mine briefly, an unreadable expression passing over his face before he turned to the screen at the front of the room. “Jace has some findings about the security breach.”

Jace, the tech specialist, stepped forward. With his rumpled shirt and perpetual five-o’clock shadow, he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Maybe he hadn’t.

“Based on the angle of the video that was posted online,” he began, pulling up an electronic rendering of the house on the screen, “we’ve pinpointed exactly where your stalker was positioned. ”

The 3-D model rotated, zooming in on Nova’s bedroom windows. A red dot pulsed outside, indicating a position among the bushes.

“He was crouched right here,” Jace continued, pointing to the spot. “Perfect angle to see through the French doors, yet concealed from the driveway. The good news is, those bushes are gone now.”

“We had them removed immediately,” Ethan added, arms folded across his chest. “No more hiding spots.”

Nova examined her manicure, clearly bored. “So I’m safe now with your army of goons all over the house?”

Dexter snickered beside her.

“We’ve significantly improved security,” Ethan said, ignoring the jab. “The intrusion drill we ran yesterday confirmed all systems are operational. But—” his eyes hardened “—you need to keep your curtains closed when changing. No exceptions.”

Nova rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dad.”

I shot her a warning look that she pretended not to see.

Ty, the youngest member of Ethan’s team, spoke up next. “The concerning part is that this guy seems familiar with the property. The way he navigated, where he positioned himself… We think he’s been here before.”

“Maybe even inside,” Logan added, his deep voice solemn. “Prior to the roses incident.”

A chill ran down my spine. The idea that someone had been watching us, maybe walking through our home without our knowing…

Nova seemed untouched by this revelation. “You know,” she mused, tapping her phone screen, “my followers have spiked since these incidents. Maybe we should send this stalker a thank-you card.”

“Nova!” I hissed.

“What? Just saying, all press is good press.” She shrugged. “My engagement numbers are through the roof. ”

Ethan’s jaw tightened visibly. “Nova, I need to suggest something you’re not going to like.”

Nova’s attention snapped to him, suddenly wary.

“I think you should consider postponing your tour until we apprehend this individual.”

The room went silent. Nova’s face froze in a mask of disbelief. Beside her, Dexter paled dramatically.

“Absolutely not,” they said in perfect unison.

Before they could launch into what would surely be a spectacular meltdown, I jumped in.

“Ethan,” I said carefully, “postponing the tour would be a last-resort option. The financial penalties alone would be devastating. We’re talking millions in venue deposits, promotional expenses, pre-sold merchandise…” I took a breath. “Not to mention the logistics nightmare of rescheduling thirty-two shows across twenty-seven cities.”

Nova nodded vigorously. “This tour is everything. It’s my step up to the big leagues. Next year, it’ll be stadiums instead of theaters. We are not canceling.”

Ethan’s eyes met mine, and I could see him weighing my words. Behind his stern exterior, I could tell he was genuinely concerned for our safety. But I needed him to understand that canceling wasn’t an option unless things escalated dramatically.

“We can handle the increased security,” I assured him. “Whatever it takes. But the tour goes forward unless there’s absolutely no other choice.”

Logan and Jace exchanged glances. Ty looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

Finally, Ethan nodded. “We’ll manage it. The situation hasn’t escalated to the point where cancelation is necessary. But—” he fixed Nova with a hard stare “—that means following every protocol we set. No exceptions, no forgetting , no creative interpretations of the rules. And not another single word about vibes . ”

“Fine, fine.” Nova waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever it takes. Can we be done now? I have a vocal warm-up session in ten minutes.”

Before Ethan could respond, she was up and moving toward the door, Dexter floating in her wake like a fashionable shadow. “Come on, Dex, these security lectures are killing my creative…aura.”

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving an awkward silence in their absence.

“Well,” Ty said with forced brightness, “that went better than expected.”

Logan snorted. “I had my money on her throwing something.”

“She saves that for day three,” I muttered.

Jace gathered his equipment, nodding to Ethan before slipping out. Logan and Ty followed, leaving just Ethan and me in the suddenly too-quiet room.

He studied me, head tilted slightly. “You were painting.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

His lips curved into the faintest suggestion of a smile. “That’s why you were late. You were painting.”

“How did you?—”

He reached out, his thumb brushing my cheek lightly. “Blue paint,” he explained, showing me the smudge on his thumb. “Right here.”

Heat crawled up my neck at the casual touch. “Oh. Yes, I…sometimes I paint. To relieve stress.”

“That explains the outfit too,” he noted, eyes taking in my jeans and T-shirt in a way that made me suddenly self-conscious.

“This is actually how I prefer to dress,” I admitted, plucking at the worn fabric of my shirt. “The business attire is Nova’s idea. She thinks a manager should look the part.”

Something flickered in his eyes—disapproval? Confusion? I couldn’t quite read it .

“Nova seems to have a lot of ideas about how you should present yourself,” he said carefully.

I shrugged, uncomfortable with the accuracy of his observation. “It’s just clothes. Not worth fighting about.”

He made a noncommittal sound, then reached into his pocket. “Speaking of Nova, I have something that might help with the constant texts.”

He held out his hand, palm up. A small flash drive rested there.

“What’s this?”

“An app Jace developed. May I?” He gestured to my phone, which I handed over hesitantly.

“It filters Nova’s messages,” he explained as he connected the drive and tapped through several screens. “When she starts anxiety-spiraling—like sending more than ten texts in a minute—the app will provide appropriate, encouraging responses based on your usual replies.”

I stared at him. “You wrote an app to answer my sister’s texts?”

“Jace did,” he corrected. “But yes. It’ll only notify you if Nova asks a legitimate question or something that requires your personal attention. Otherwise, it’ll keep her calm without you having to drop everything every five minutes.”

He handed the phone back, our fingers brushing briefly. “You can override it anytime, of course. But this way, you might actually get some work done. Or some painting done.”

I was speechless. It was such a small thing, really. A simple app. But the fact that he’d noticed this pain point in my life, that he’d thought to address it…

“Thank you,” I managed finally, clutching the phone. “That’s…incredibly thoughtful.”

He shrugged, but I could tell he was pleased by my reaction. “Just doing my job. Identifying security vulnerabilities.”

“My sanity is a security vulnerability? ”

“You’re no good to anyone if you’re burned out.” He dropped his eyes to my arm, where the bruise from the serving cart collision was fading to a yellowish-green. “How’s that doing?”

“Better,” I replied, surprised again that he remembered. “Barely hurts now.”

“Good.” He nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Heat helping?”

“Yes. Thank you for the advice.”

He stood, gathering his tablet. “I should get back to it. We still have the east perimeter to finish securing before nightfall.”

“Of course.”

He paused at the door, looking back at me. “Your painting. What was it?”

The question caught me off guard. “Just…a landscape. Nothing special.”

“Landscapes can be very special,” he said quietly. “Depending on what they represent.”

Before I could respond, he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

I sat alone in the conference room, staring at the space where he’d been, warmth spreading through my chest.

How did he do that? How did he see through all the professional veneers and manager armor straight to the parts of me I kept hidden? The parts even Nova didn’t see—or care to see.

More importantly, why did it matter so much that he did?

I rose slowly, gathering my notes, trying to ignore the lingering sensation from where his thumb had brushed my cheek. It was nothing. Just Ethan Cross doing his job—seeing details others missed. That’s what made him good at security.

But as I made my way back to my suite, I couldn’t help wondering what else those observant eyes had noticed about me. And why the thought made my heart beat just a little faster.