Page 93 of Tangled Like Us

Instinctively I scope out the living room for Jane. Finding her in mere seconds. She lounges on a stool next to Maximoff and Farrow, chip bags spread out over the high tabletop.

She pops one in her mouth. Smiling at something Farrow says to Maximoff.

“Twitter is going nuts,” Luna announces from the leather couch.

I see her in my peripheral. Laptop balancing on her knees, red marker underlines her eyes like she was in a flag football match. Knowing Luna, she probably just did it because she wanted to.

“Holy fuck.” Sulli reads from over her shoulder. “It’s trending. That’s what that means, right?” She points to the screen.

“Yep yep, definitely trending,” Luna says.

I shove off towards Jane.

Whispers and chatter from the table and couch seem to hush as I approach her. Until I’m right in front of Jane, and the room is awkwardly silent.

Here, among security and her family, we’re back to being bodyguard and client. No dating. Her face can’t be up against my face. Be professional.

I hand her the extra beer I grabbed.

Her lips rise. “Thank you.”

Maximoff and Farrow aren’t staking glares into me. They’re just eyeing me closely.

I focus on Jane. She runs her thumb over the rim of the bottle, and her eyes search mine. “About you being moreinthe public,” she says, “I wanted to let you know that whatever crops up on the internet about your life, I don’t plan to read it. I’d rather hear whatever you’re willing to share with me, but if you’d rather I just look, if that’s easier for you—”

“You don’t have to look,” I interject. “I don’t think the public will find much anyway.”

There is one thing…one thingthat I’d rather she never find out through a fucking online search engine or internet troll.

One thing that I can’t figure out a good time to say. It’s so far gone. Over fifteen years ago, but once I drop it, the air usually snaps and the mood darkens.

I hate going there.

Hell, I don’t knowhowto go there most of the time.

“So it’s a plan then,” Jane notes.

I nod and remember what I needed to tell her. “The team wants us to wait to publicly confirm that we’re together.”

No posts.

No interviews.

No banners in the fucking sky.

Nothing.

We just have to appear like we’re getting sloppier about hiding our “secret” relationship. Media will do the heavy lifting.

“Sounds brilliant.” She sips her beer, then licks her lips. “Do we have our next objective as a couple?”

We do.

19

JANE COBALT

Security devisesa plan that has tumbled my heart throughout my whole body like an erratic, too-eager-for-my-own-good pinball.