Page 107 of The Sun & Her Burn

Her lids had drooped considerably, and her hand was lax in mine. Exhaustion often followed these events swiftly.

I decided it was worth the risk to get her inside.

“Mom,” I murmured, still stroking her hand. “Why don’t we go into the house? You can show Clark your Soapie.”

She brightened a little at the idea of showing off her Soap Opera award, or because she finally noticed Seb hovering behind me.

“Clark,” she said, her voice dry and cracking in the wake of her shouting match. “You didn’t tell me you were coming. I would have put on something special.”

“You look marvellous just as you are,” Sebastian said solemnly, and there was no doubt in my mind that he meant it.

A sob lodged in my throat and made it difficult to breathe.

“We’re going to move slowly,” I whispered to Seb, because Miranda could go off again in a heartbeat if she caught sight of the crowd or the flashes started going wild again. “Let’s try to keep her focused on the house.”

Seb squeezed my shoulders in acknowledgment and gently grabbed Miranda’s other arm so we could both help lift her to her feet. As we were doing so, the low growl of an expensive engine preceded the screech of tires on asphalt and the slam of a car door followed by another punctured the quiet.

It prompted the crowd to start taking photos and videos again, a low murmur building into excited chatter.

I tried to move Miranda a little quicker toward the house.

A moment later, the crescendo reached a peak as a name was passed around the ranks of paparazzi.

Adam Meyers.

I could have closed my eyes in relief, but I focused on steadying Miranda as we hit the path that cut through the middle of the yard and started up it.

“That isenough.” Adam’s voice cut through the cacophony like the clang of a cymbal. It took two seconds for silence to descend, and the quality of it was almost reverent.

This wasgold,and the paps fucking knew it.

“This is private property,” Adam said in that crisp British accent that cut the words into bullets and fired them cleanly intothe crowd. “You have sixty seconds to get off Mrs. Hildebrand’s lawn or you will not like the consequences. In case you doubt me, this is my lawyer, Boone Decker. He would be happy to speak with any of you about breach of privacy, private property, and taking advantage of someone who is ill without their consent.”

We had hit the steps in front of the house, and Miranda swayed, almost asleep on her feet, as Sebastian half lifted her over the threshold.

“Can you take her into her bedroom for me?” I asked quietly because there was something I had to do before Adam cleared the way completely.

Seb nodded, his eyes dark with empathy as he pulled Miranda close and murmured sweetly to her in Italian she had no hope of understanding. It seemed to soothe her because she didn’t object when I stepped away to face the music.

The cameramen had mostly taken Adam’s orders to heart and moved off the lawn to huddle at the edge of the curb, but some of them were walking a little slower, lenses raised to catch the last moments of Miranda before I closed the door on the house.

The flashes were bright, even in the late afternoon sun, but I tried not to blink as I lifted my chin and walked to Adam, who stood beside his lawyer with his arms crossed and legs braced, like an admiral used to being obeyed.

“We have called the police,” he said mildly, glaring in particular at a man who was still on the lawn, one foot crushing the pansies I’d taken pains to plant along the cracked concrete path. “If you’re still here when they arrive, I will do my best to see you are arrested. You have crossed a line, Mr. Talbot, even for you.”

“How’d ya know it was me who started this?” the reporter asked with a crooked smile, still filming.

Adam’s voice was a tundra. “It stinks of a rat, and you are king of the Los Angeles sewers, Hank.”

Hank grinned but didn’t argue, maybe because I hit Adam’s side.

Literally.

I pushed into his torso, leaning in so heavily he didn’t have a choice but to raise his arm and curl it around me to keep me from falling. Pressed against him, it was easy to feel the thrum of barely leashed anger coursing through his body.

If he could have, I thought he might have beaten every single person there.

He turned his head to me, kissing my crown before whispering just for me, “You can wait inside. I’ll stay here until the cops arrive.”