I snagged my press pass from the top drawer of my desk and slipped it into my clutch.

“You coming, Zach?” I tried to keep the impatience out of my tone, but seriously I’d been waiting on the dude for ten minutes. We were already running late.

“Just grabbing the goods,” he said, shoving another piece of equipment into the black camera bag he never went anywhere without.

I took a steadying breath. I shouldn’t be this nervous, but we were about to hit up my second major celebrity event, and I knew a killer story would seal my fate as a columnist for the Chronicle.

“Thanks,” I said as we headed toward the elevators that would take us down to the parking garage.

“For what?” He asked, shifting from one foot to the other. He was the same age as me, but his shaggy black hair, light blue eyes, and boyish smile made him seem so much younger. That and he tended to hunch when he should strut, mumble when he should be assertive, and look away when he should maintain eye contact. To be fair, not everyone was meant to be a reporter.

“For sticking with me,” I said, my moto boots clicking against the concrete as we hit the parking garage. I tugged at the red silk shorts I donned, hoping they and the black lace top I wore were just rockstar enough to make me blend into the crowd. “You could’ve easily begged for another partner.”

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his well-worn jeans. “No one is like you,” he said, then cleared his throat. “No one has your tenacity.”

I smiled, standing up a bit straighter as we waited for the company limo to pull around. I used the few seconds of silence to gather every wit I had in my arsenal.

Today is the day.

I would land a story so perfect, the Chronicle would be insane not to offer me a permanent position.

It wasn’t my first time in a limo, but as we slid inside the luxury vehicle, I became acutely aware of how important this event was for my career. I only had two-and-a-half-months left to prove myself, and there were only so many celebrity events a month. I had to make each one count.

“You have an idea who you’re looking to interview?” Zach asked as the limo wound its way through Seattle traffic. The sky was clear and sunny for once like the rock gods had decided to take mercy on the annual music festival whose objective was to end world poverty. The festival held special charitable concerts all over the world with all proceeds to benefit those in need.

“Not sure,” I finally answered as I looked away from the sunny sky and back to him. “I’ll know the story when I feel it.”

He arched a brow at me. “And if you don’t feel it?”

“Then I’ll do my best to talk to as many people as I can before I find it.” I nodded more to assure myself than him. A-listers flocked to these shows all the time. There was a story there, somewhere, that would earn my dream job. I just had to look in the right spot.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and a brawl will happen,” Zach said. “Or two celebs hook up when they’re supposedly dating someone else.”

I furrowed my brow at him. “This isn’t the Inquisitor.” I sighed. “The Seattle Chronicle is about breaking celebrity news—”

“And a fight isn’t breaking news?” He cut me off.

I rolled my eyes. “Sure, it could be, but to hope for the darker parts of the world—”

“Well Hollywood isn’t all about glitter and limelight, you know?”

“Of course, I know that,” I said, shocked the boy had decided to say more than ten words to me. “But those stories are a dime a dozen and half the time they aren’t real.”

Cheating celebs? God, I’d seen enough of those stories in the news about the Sharks to last a lifetime. Some paparazzi prided themselves on making celebrities lives’ miserable.

Not me. I wanted to break the stories that mattered. That made a difference. Like the celebrities who went above and beyond to use their status and wealth to benefit the communities around them. Or the ones who treated fans like gold and took care of their families and were genuinely good people. There weren’t enough of those stories circulating, and I was ready to start a trend of positivity in the business.

“You’re the boss,” Zach said, accepting defeat.

I nodded again. I was running this ship. All he had to do was document it.

“But,” he continued. “If I see something worth capturing, I’m snapping it.” He looked out the window, eyes going wide as we approached the massive outdoor arena.

Whatever I’d been about to say to him died on my tongue as I took in the scene.

Thousands of people already covered the expansive grassy area where the festival had been constructed—a giant stage was the focal point, and rows upon rows of vendor tents bordered the length of the area. Music pulsed through the closed limo windows followed by the vibrations of hundreds of conversations happening at once. Flashes of camera bulbs, shouts of celebrity names, and a few honks accompanied the chaotic symphony happening outside.

“This is it,” I said, my hand on the door as I spared one last look at Zach.

He flashed me a soft smile. “You’ve got this. I’ll blend into the crowd. You won’t even know I’m there.”

“Okay,” I said. “Here we go.”

Adrenaline spiked my blood as I stepped out of the limo and into the sea of bodies meandering down the red carpet that led the way to the festival’s entrance. Three ginormous bouncers who wore tight black festival-branded shirts stopped us before giving us the go-ahead after checking our badges.

Smells of sweet and savory filled the air, the vendors boasting the best food in the world as we passed by. Upbeat melodies filtered through the huge speakers on the stage, filling the crowd with good vibes.

I couldn’t help but smile.

This would be a great day.

A no drama event.

And my story would be chalked full of the insanely awesome and good happenings that these A-listers rallied together to help end world poverty.

I didn’t need darkness and grit.

I could report on the change I wanted to see in the world.

Two hours, four celebrity quotes, and one tub of siracha carrot chips later, and I was stuck. Not physically, of course, because the openness of the setting was perfect for the crowd moving to the beats of the fourth band to take the stage, but in the story sense. The quotes I’d gotten were sweet, short, and simple. Good, but not good enough. I needed something bigger, something newsworthy.

And I knew just who could give me what I needed.

Trouble was…getting to him.

Henry Jenkins was the brains behind the fifteen-year-running music festival. Not only was he an established, Oscar-winning actor, but he also contributed to numerous noteworthy charities and organized each and every festival show. He even had producer credits on some of the band’s albums who participated in the annual shows.

He was my key to securing my position at the Chronicle.

But he was also constantly surrounded by bouncers, fans, and his entourage. A proper human barrier built to keep people like me out. And currently, the man was headed toward the stage, most likely to give his appreciation speech. After which he’d likely disappear backstage to some VIP room or perhaps even to his car to be whisked away.

This was my only shot.

“Oh no,” Zach said into my ear, and I jumped.

“God, Zach,” I said. “We need to get you a bell.” He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he would blend into the crowd. I’d barely seen him today, though I had no doubt he’d caught every moment I spoke to a celebrity on camera.

“You’re not thinking of going after Henry, are you?”

I kept my eyes on Henry, who continued his slow trek toward the stage, stopping to smile and chat with fans along the way.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” I said, never taking my gaze off him.

Until a tight black t-shirt over an un-mistakable broad chest stepped into my line of sight.

Connor freaking Bridgerton.

“Ivy?” He said, his chest and voice filling my space and blocking my view of the story of a lifetime.

“Connor?” I mimicked him and flashed a smile to Lukas and the Sharks newest transfer, Hudson Porter, as they flanked him. “You three enjoying the show?” I asked, standing on my tiptoes to see over Connor’s incredibly tall form.

Henry had hit a stand-still as he signed pictures and shirts for some fans in the middle of the massive crowd.

“Yeah,” he said. “I never miss a chance to donate to the festival.”

I drew my gaze back to Connor, noting the lack of snark in his tone. That, and the absence of one sweet girl on his hip. “You’re here as a contributor?”

“Yes,” he said, crossing his arms over his ripped chest. “You want a quote?” He teased, and I rolled my eyes.

“No thanks,” I said. “Have my eyes on someone bigger.”

He laughed, and it actually sounded genuine for once. “Good luck with that. Not many people are bigger than me.”

A flush raked over my skin at the hint of a smirk that curled his lips.

His strong hands, suddenly gentle, as he secured the fur-lined handcuff to my wrist...

The memory flooded me with heat I couldn’t contain.

Work. Focus. Cold showers.

“You boast.” Lukas smacked Connor’s chest. “I’ve seen you in the locker room. Decent at best.”

“We can’t all have Scandinavian blood and be descended from Thor, asshole.” Connor hit Lukas back, and Porter kept silent, sipping his water. He looked like a lit fuse, slowly sizzling, just waiting for the blasting cap to fly off. He’d be a hell of a bruiser for the team; I had no doubt.

“Where’s Hannah?” I asked, the information suddenly a need to know. With what had happened…Faith and I had stepped up to help, but if she wasn’t with me…

“Faith has her,” he said, his voice back to the normal gruff irritant it normally was. “Why? You think I’d bring her here and just let her wander?” His tone suggested I was stupid enough to think that.

“No, I just—” I glared at him. “Forget it.” I shoved around him, totally not in the mood to get into another bite fest with the man.

Connor’s teeth scraping the sensitive flesh of my neck as he pinned me against a wall.

I halted in my tracks, the damn fantasy dominating every single sense I possessed.

Damn him. How could he get under my skin so much and make me want him to get under my skin so much?

Come on body! Get your shit together!

I shook off the mental assault and continued weaving through the crowd. I was on a job and didn’t have time to fight or fantasize about the infuriating man that was Connor Bridgerton. He’s lucky his niece was so damn cute otherwise I’d have told him to fuck off a long time ago.

Somewhere between my fantasizing and fuming over the man, I’d lost sight of Henry. And it wasn’t until I heard his voice over the loudspeakers that I found him again.

Center stage, the actor delivered a charming and thoughtful speech before he thanked everyone for attending and told them the party was just getting started.

I shoved my way through hundreds of cheering fans until I made it to the bottom of the stage…just in time to see him exit off the back of it as a new band came on to play.

Fuck my life.

He held the key to a killer story.

I scanned the area around the stage—yards of chain length fence to separate the festival from the crew ensuring it ran smoothly. Henry Jenkins among them.

Shouting would be pointless with the band now playing, the speakers so close the vibrations rattled my brain. I tried a wave, but it was swallowed by the bodies fist-pumping the air around me.

I chewed on the corner of my lip.

All I needed was a few minutes with him—just long enough to learn about his inspiration for the festival, to ask the tough questions no one had the nerve to ask—like if his upbringing had anything to do with his desire to help heal the world. He’d been in and out of foster care as a child, though he rarely spoke on the subject. I knew if I could bring the two concepts together, I could create an uplifting article that would hopefully inspire others in the system to hope.

The words were practically writing themselves in my mind as I hooked one foot in the fence, then the other, my hands gripping the railing as I tugged myself upward. A few more feet and I could throw my leg over, drop to the ground, flash my press pass, and beg an audience.

The band switched to a new song, this one a fast-paced thriller that shook the entire crowd into a frenzy. Screams pierced the air right alongside the thumping bass and thrilling guitar, the lead singer’s sardonic voice busting out lyrics that everyone seemed to know.

I kept moving, lifting my leg to throw over the top, thanking the rock gods for the lack of bouncer in this area. They were focused on center stage where the lead singer currently gyrated across it.

Another swell of screams roared at the same time as the crowd rushed like a tidal wave toward the stage…toward me. Hands outstretched and bodies crushing against one another as they jumped up and down. I spared a glance, panic creeping up my spine as the crowd got closer and closer.

Another singer had come on stage, shoulder to shoulder with the original. A cameo, a surprise guest to get the crowd to go wild.

Mission accomplished.

I gripped the railing that now shook from the pressure of bodies that had now suddenly crashed against it. The fence wobbled, jerking back and forth from the force. I lost my grip, and barely had enough time to gasp before I fell backward with nothing but the clear sky in my eyesight.

My scream was swallowed by the music blaring around me.

And I braced myself for the impact of crashing down to the ground far below.

Thump!

The air whooshed out of my lungs as a pair of arms caught me. Stopped me from breaking my spine on the ground.

Once I caught my breath, I unpeeled my eyelids, ready to thank the person who had been kind enough for saving me.

Instead, I found Connor’s dark eyes staring wide and disapproving at me as our noses almost touched. He cradled me against that strong chest—the same one I’d imagined beating my fists against too many times to count.

His body was warm against mine, which shook from the adrenaline of the fall. I gripped the back of his neck, steadying myself as I found my breath, the air dripping with his scent.

God, he smelled good.

Felt good.

Holding me tightly against him like he could do it all day and not break a sweat.

Our faces were so close, I’d never noticed how strong of a jawline he had. The light stubble dusting it would tickle if I turned my head an inch to the left and—

“What the hell are you doing, Ivy?”

The tone was enough to shake me from my momentary slip down boy-crush lane. I wriggled in his embrace, and he sat me on my feet.

“I’m working,” I snapped, adjusting my shirt. “Why did you follow me?”

“I came to apologize—” he stopped short, shaking his head. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Thanks,” I said, sneering at him. I spun around, stomping my foot as I watched Henry Jenkins climb into the back of a giant black SUV and drive off. “Damn it!” I raked my hands through my hair, taking in a huge breath, trying like hell to calm the adrenaline shaking my limbs. It wasn’t until a full minute had passed that I realized how close I’d come to being seriously injured.

I slowly turned around, prepared to tell Connor I was sorry…

But he had already disappeared into the crowd.

“Aspiring reporter falls for a Shark?” Zach said in my ear, and I only partially jolted this time.

“What?”

“Our story headline.” He laughed, and I shook my head.

“Not likely.”

“Seriously, though, you okay?”

I was only slightly shaken. “Yes,” I said.

“I was too far away.” He pointed toward the edge of the fence on the other side. “Was trying to find a way in that didn’t involve climbing and falling to my death in a sea of people.”

“Smart.” I kept searching the crowd for Connor. I wasn’t really sure why.

To say sorry?

To say thank you?

To shake him and ask him how he could hate me one second and be kind to me the next?

Infuriating. That’s what the man was.

I took a deep breath, letting the music fill me until I found my focus again.

Henry Jenkins may be gone, but the festival wouldn’t stop until well beyond sundown.

And I wasn’t leaving until I found a story.

Apologizing to Connor would simply have to wait.

Maybe a lifetime if he didn’t stop treating me like an enemy.