“What the fuck did Bradford do?” Balen demanded, as he stood at the island in his kitchen, speed-reading through the newest BuzzFeed article—a full disclosure interview with his agent, Bradford Billings. Make that ex-agent, because Balen was firing his ass ASAP.

Connor opened the fridge and cracked open a beer, taking a sip before responding. “It’s called damage control, Balen. We’ve gotten pretty good at it lately. Don’t be pissed at him. We’re saving your career. In fact, a thank you might even be in order.”

“Thank you? You’re kidding me, right? I just lost the best thing that ever happened to me because you two used her for goddamn media propaganda.”

“Hey, you’re the asshole that didn’t tell her who you are—that’s on you.” He pointed his beer at Balen and scowled. “You’ve got nobody to blame for that poor decision-making but yourself. And FYI, that night you went out with Autumn, someone took a picture of you two together at dinner. And then a fuck-load more of you two on the beach.”

“Shit.” Balen slammed the lid of the laptop closed and started pacing. He hadn’t seen anyone following them. Then again, he’d been so focused on Autumn, a goddamn hurricane could have blown in and he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“After your little sex tape debacle, I thought you would have learned your lesson about PDA. But obviously not. Someone sold the pictures of you and Autumn getting it on to BuzzFeed. They contacted Bradford and told him that if he didn’t give them a full-disclosure interview, they were going to run the pictures and their version of the story—as is. Bradford did the interview, and in place of those compromising photos I provided them with others of you and Autumn. I did it to save your ass, man.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“A—it’s my job to take care of this shit. B—you haven’t been around. And C—what’s the point? It doesn’t do any good talking to you. Days after your sex tape is released, pictures are popping up of you crawling between some other girl’s legs. We had to spin this story, turn Autumn into more than just another fuck.”

“Dammit, she is more than just another fuck.”

“And yet she wasn’t important enough for you to tell her the truth about who you are. Interesting.”

“Don’t you judge me!” he growled spinning around to his brother, needing to take his anger out on someone other than himself. “You have no idea what it’s like being used every goddamn day like some piece of meat.”

Conner’s brow arched as he gave Balen an unsympathetic grunt before taking a long pull from his beer. “They’re only buyin’ cuz you’re sellin’, man. I don’t feel sorry for you. I do, however, feel sympathetic for the woman I found crying her eyes out in the goddamn hallway today. You got to get your shit together.”

“Where did you get those pictures?” Balen demanded, changing the subject, because Connor telling him to get his shit together wasn’t anything he didn’t already know.

His brother shrugged, seeming wholeheartedly unimpressed by Balen’s anger. Perhaps that was because Connor was brewing some of his own. He knew that look. Connor was disappointed in him and clearly pissed to have gotten caught in the middle of what happened. “Off your Cloud, where do you think? I’m your publicist, your brother, and your best friend. You think I don’t have access to your accounts? Look, I’m sorry this blew up in your face. But when Bradford called me about BuzzFeed, we talked it over and agreed the best way to play this out and start fixing your image was to give them the story that you’d fallen in love with Autumn, and you were turning your life around. How the hell was I supposed to know you actually were falling in love with her? This was just supposed to be damage control, and it’s working. Sex Wax is reconsidering withdrawing their sponsorship, your spot in the invitationals is secure. Look, if you want me to talk to her…”

“God, no. It’ll only make things worse. There isn’t anything you can say to make this better.”

“Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

Balen sat in the chair and braced his forearms against his knees, dropping his head into his hands. Connor didn’t understand. He hadn’t seen that look in her eyes. The one that told him it was over, that he’d broken her trust—and her heart—and he wasn’t getting another chance to earn either one of them back. “Trust me, I’m the last person she wants to see right now.”

“Did you tell her how you feel? Have you told her you’re in love with her?”

Balen’s head snapped up to pin his brother with a glare. “Trust me, as pissed off as she is, it isn’t going to matter.”

“How will you know if you don’t try, Bay? I’m telling you right now, you let that girl walk and you’ll be making the biggest mistake of your life.”

“You act like I have a say in it!” He slammed his fist on the table. “She’s so furious at me, I don’t think she ever wants to see me again.” Balen exhaled a deep sigh and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I never meant to hurt her. I’d planned to tell her the truth, and then things kept getting in the way. Then, this morning, Monica showed up. Shit… I’m going to lose her and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it.”

“Not sitting here on your ass and feeling sorry for yourself, there’s not. Go after her. Tell her you’re sorry. Tell her you screwed up.”

Would it work? The irony wasn’t lost on him that his little brother, the guy who’d never had a serious girlfriend in his entire life, was giving Balen relationship advice. Connor was right. He had to at least try. He’d hurt Autumn—badly. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t meant to. She’d opened her heart up to him, shared a part of herself she hadn’t with anyone else. And she’d been honest with him. The least he could do was extend her the same courtesy. Even if was too late for them.

Balen got up, grabbed his keys off the counter.

“Where are you going?”

As if he didn’t know. “Where the hell do you think I’m going?” Balen growled, heading toward the door. “To try to stop the woman I’m in love with from walking out of my life.”

* * *

“Autumn Harris…”

Autumn heard her name called over the intercom and glanced up at the ceiling. Shit… She reached for the toilet paper, her fingertips brushing over the bare roll. Seriously? She hadn’t realized she’d emptied it during her meltdown. Unable to told herself together after Balen left, she’d locked herself in the bathroom and spent the last hour grappling with the heartache and betrayal she could still hardly wrap her mind around, and yet the knifing pain in her chest was an inescapable reminder that this was her reality—not the love story she’d let herself get swept up in. The man she’d fallen in love with didn’t exist. In her head, she knew this, but that didn’t stop her heart from mourning the loss.

Grasping onto anger because it hurt less than feeling like the fool she’d been played for, Autumn wiped her hands over her damp cheeks then used her foot to flush the toilet, sending her spent tissues and tears swirling down the drain.

“Autumn Harris, please report to the ticket desk.”

They must have found a seat for her. She lifted the handle of her suitcase and maneuvered herself out of the stall, dragging her luggage behind her as she hurried out of the bathroom and over to the ticket desk. The passing hour had brought many more travelers. The airport was packed with people trying to check in and get through security. Luckily, she’d gone through all the checks and customs early, now all she needed was a ticket so she could get the hell away from the Island of Love.

“May I help you?” the woman behind the counter asked.

“I’m Autumn Harris. You called for me. Were they able to find me a seat?”

The woman went to work on her computer. “Yes, we have a seat. All the other passengers are checked in and there was a last minute cancellation. I can put you on American Airlines flight 780 scheduled to depart in…ten minutes.”

“That’s great. Thank you.” As the woman printed her ticket, Autumn cast one last glance over her shoulder, a pang of regret tightening in her chest.

The woman handed her the ticket and stepped around the counter. “Come with me. We have to hurry if we’re going to get you on that plane.”

Autumn followed the woman down the hall toward the terminal. They were about to head around the corner when she could have sworn she heard her name. Autumn stopped. Something she didn’t want to acknowledge flittered inside her chest as she instinctively glanced at the crowded security line.

“Ms. Harris,” the woman urgently called. “The plane is leaving in a few minutes. If you want to catch this flight, you have to come with me now.”

As Autumn turned and raced after the woman who was calling to the flight attendant to wait, an announcement came over the loud speaker calling for additional security.

* * *

“I’m looking for a woman, Autumn Harris. Can you tell me if her flight has left yet?” Balen searched the crowd at the security line-up, each passing second ratcheting the desperation vice-gripping his heart. What if he was too late?

“I’m sorry, sir. Flight records are confidential.”

Something caught his eye—a flash of dark red hair heading toward the terminal. Autumn… Abandoning the desk, he took off toward the crowd and raced after her, mumbling apologies as he pushed past people in the security line.

“Ticket and identification, please.”

“I don’t have one.” He began pulling off his shoes and tossing them in the bin on the conveyer belt. “I’m not catching a flight. I need through to talk to the woman who’s about to board that plane.” His hands dropped to his waist and he began unfastening his belt. The security officer gave him a look that said, you know that’s not how this works, right? But Balen didn’t care. Autumn was almost out of sight, and he needed to get through.

“Autumn!” he yelled, desperate to get her attention as he shoved his hands in his pockets and tossed his keys and his cell phone in with his shoes. He darted past the officer, losing sight of Autumn in the process. “Excuse me, I need through,” he apologized, pushing by passengers waiting to enter the metal detector. The security officer mumbled something into his com device and headed for Balen. More officers started heading his way as curious passengers began to crowd around. Phones were coming out of pockets. This wasn’t going to end well…

“Autumn, wait!” He called after her but his voice was drowned out by the overhead speaker requesting back up for security. Balen entered the metal detector, hoping they would just let him pass through, but he set the thing off. Goddammit! “Stop that redhead!” he yelled to the approaching officer as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it behind him. Of course, they weren’t going to listen to him. He stripped off his jeans, and when he kicked them away from the metal detector, the beeping stopped. He exited wearing nothing but a pair of form-fitting boxer briefs.

“Listen,” he held his hands up, slowly approaching two security officers blocking his path. “I obviously don’t have any weapons on me. I just need to get through. The woman I love is about to get on a plane and if I don’t tell her how I feel, I’m going to lose her. Please, let me talk to her.”

People all around him had their cells out, filming his strip show and snapping pictures of him. Someone must have recognized him because he could hear his name being whispered through the crowd. But as much as he sometimes resented being Balen Kroft, maybe that was the only thing that kept him from getting arrested, because one of the approaching officers said, “Hey, I know this guy. Let him through.”

The two guards stepped aside to let him pass, and Balen took off running down the terminal. “Autumn!” He raced down the hall and rounded the corner to the boarding area destined for Dallas, Texas, then came to a sudden stop. Through the large picture window, an American Airlines jet raced by and lifted into the air. “Goddammit!”

I’m too late…