The flash of photographers blinded him as they walked out of the dive bar. He raised his arm in reflex. This was not an uncommon occurrence for him, but it had been a while since the paps had followed him to a bar in the middle of the week.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in Stevie’s ear, wishing he’d thought to find a back entrance, although he doubted that Santa’s had one.

“Stevie! Look over here Stevie!”

The photographers kept calling to her and for a moment he was a little stung. They weren’t here for him after all, they were here for her. Well, shit.

“Hey Stevie is it true that you’re doing a song with Nate Nash?”

“Is that why he’s here with you tonight?”

“Is it true Nash? Are you trying to resurrect your career by jumping on the coattails of Stevie Jacks and her band?”

What the fuck? Is that what the world thought? Is that what Stevie and her band thought? It seemed that he and his career were a big joke to these people, that he was washed up, finished. It was kind of true though, if he was perfectly honest with himself. His last album was a joke, even he refused to listen to it. And why the hell would Stevie even consider singing with him after what he’d done to her? God, it was all such a mess and if the paparazzi were good at anything it was exposing weaknesses.

“Come on! Get in!” It was Frankie with a car.

He hustled Stevie into the backseat and followed her in, slamming the door behind him. Frankie gassed it and photographers scrambled out of his way and then they were free. Nate leaned back against the seat and took a deep breath, holding it before letting it out slowly.

“What the hell was that?” Stevie asked, her eyes wide and her face pale under the thick stage makeup she wore.

“That was the paparazzi,” Nate said tiredly. “Is this your first run-in with them?”

She nodded, a look of stunned disbelieve on her face. “Why were they there?”

“Good question.” He leaned forward to talk to Frankie. “Why were they there and how did they know…moreover, how did you know?”

“Someone tipped them off,” Frankie said, “and Mabel called me. She thought you might need some help.”

“Fuck,” he said the word on a long breath.

“They were there for you, Stevie,” Frankie said, looking at Nate in the rear-vision mirror. “Someone inside the bar tweeted that you were going to be performing with part of your band.”

“Who?” she asked. “Who tweeted?”

“BeautyQueen9545,” he replied.

“Darla,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “Fucking Darla.”

“How did they know that we were doing a song together?” Nate asked.

“Apparently there has been some chatter,” Frankie said cautiously, “but nothing substantiated. They’ve seen the two of you coming out of the studio together.”

Well, shit. He hadn’t even thought to hide that they were working together, it had never crossed his mind. He turned to Stevie.

“What do you want to do? Do you want to release a statement?”

She bit her lip as she thought it through. “I should probably contact Marci and see what her take is on all of this.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “and I should probably talk to Mabel.” He leaned forward again to talk to Frankie. “Take us to my apartment.”

“Your apartment?” Stevie asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I just thought it would be easier to talk there,” he said, winging it. “We can contact Marci and Mabel and have them meet us there to hammer out our next steps.”

“Shouldn’t the rest of my band be in attendance?”

He sat back at looked at her. She really had no idea what was about to happen in her life. He may have been naïve about a lot of stuff in the music industry and let other people deal with the nuts and bolts of his career, but the one thing he did have experience in was dealing with the press. He knew what it was like to become an ‘overnight sensation’ and the amount of media attention it would garner. Having her name linked to his would only fuel the fire, and not in a good way.

“I think we should talk to Marci and Mabel first,” he said, “and see what they have to say.”

She huffed out a breath and sat back, crossing her arms in front of her. “This is only the beginning, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his jaw tight.

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better, right?”

He nodded again. She looked so… worried, lost, helpless, disappointed? He couldn’t pin down one emotion, they all seemed to be radiating off her.

“This is what you wanted,” he said, gently. “It’s what you have been working towards for years.”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head, “it was never really about the fame for me, not that type of fame anyway. Yeah, I wanted to be famous, but I wanted it to be about the music, about my songs and the way they made people feel. Not about being chased by photographers and having questions shouted at me when I was just out with a few friends.”

“It will settle down,” he said and she gave a snort with a ‘yeah, right’ look. Nate chuckled. “I know,” he said. “It’s going to be crazy for a while, even more so when you finish the tour with Lily. A picture of you is going to be worth millions and the most embarrassing one they can get, the better. They feed off misery and they’ll try whatever it takes to get you to react.”

“Is that what happened to you?” she asked softly. “When you punched that photographer.”

It hadn’t been the shining moment of his career and he had been high at the time. “Yeah,” he said, “One of my… a girl that I had—”

“Slept with? A groupie?” She rolled her eyes.

He massaged his eyes before going on. “Yeah. She sold her story to one of the cheap tabloids. It hadn’t been a good day at the studio and Gina had been breathing down my neck and he just—”

“He found your weakness.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“We’re here,” Frankie said, saving me from any further town car confessions.

Nate hustled Stevie into the elevator, forever grateful for underground garages. There had been a gaggle of paps at the entrance to his apartment block, but none had thought to watch the parking garage. The elevator would go straight to his floor, without stopping, thanks to his handy-dandy security card.

“Can I ask you something?” he said and waited for her nod before going on. “Do you believe what those paps were saying, that I’m trying to ride your coattails to get back on top?”

She searched his eyes for a moment and he wasn’t sure what she’d see… his vulnerability maybe or his total loss of confidence in himself more likely.

She shook her head. “No,” she said finally.

“Why did you agree to sing with me again? You hadn’t spoken to me in five years, refused to speak to me. So why now? What changed?”

She didn’t answer for a long while. The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. They stepped out into the corridor and he led her down the hall to his door. He let them into the apartment and watched as Stevie looked around curiously. The room was softly lit by a couple of table lamps, which he hadn’t remembered turning on.

“It was the song—” she began and then stopped.

He turned to look at her and saw a look of horror on her face which was quickly replaced by a look he knew all too well. Fury.

“Nate,” a voice said. A female voice. One that he knew but hadn’t heard for a while. He swung around to see a stacked blonde standing in the room wearing one of his old football t-shirts.

“Natasha,” he breathed, his brain desperately trying to put the puzzle pieces together, but failing miserably. “What are you doing here?”

He heard the door behind him slam and turned to see that Stevie had gone. He knew it looked bad, but seeing Natasha was just as much of a surprise to him as it had been to Stevie.

“Natasha! What the hell are you doing here? How did you get into my apartment?”

“Gina—”

“Fucking Gina! What about Gina?”

“She called me, said that you had been asking about me—”

“What the fuck?” What the hell was Gina up to? He hadn’t spoken to the woman since their heated discussion when she told him he owed them another album. All the communication between him and the record company had been going through Derek, Mabel or Wade. And how the hell did she get access to his apartment?

“Get out,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“But Nate—”

“No, Natasha. It’s over between us and has been for a long time. I don’t know what the hell Gina is up to, but I don’t want anything to do with her or you. Now get the hell out.”

Her bottom lip trembled, but he’d been caught by that before. Natasha was a pro with the pouty look and crocodile tears, and he’d been fooled more than once.

She took a couple of steps towards Nate, her eyes big as she looked up at him through her lashes. She was good at the submissive pose, a pity she wasn’t as submissive as she wanted everyone to believe. The woman had fangs and claws and he had the scars to prove it.

“It won’t work on me Natasha, I know all your tricks. Get your stuff and get the hell out or I will call Frankie to throw you out. In fact,” he said as he held up one finger and dug into his pocket with the other pulling, out his phone and pressing speed dial. “Frankie, I have a situation…”

Natasha tossed her hair over her shoulder and dropped the sad puppy dog act. “Really? You’re going to have Frankie escort me out of the building?”

“Yep,” he said. “He will drive you to wherever you want to go.”

“But I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to stay here with you.” She took another step closer and rested her palm on his chest. He flinched away like he’d been burned.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he growled.

“What’s wrong Nash? Can’t handle me?”

“I don’t want to handle you Natasha. You screwed with me for eight months, made my life a fricking demented funhouse and I have no intention of letting you drag me back into your shit.”

“Come on, Nate, we had fun. Don’t you remember all the fun we had?”

“Actually, no,” he said truthfully. “Nearly that entire part of my life is a blur. Seriously Natasha, you’re like a succubus and you sucked the life right out of me.”

“Seriously, Nate? You’re resorting to name calling now?”

“If the insult fits—” he shrugged as the door behind him opened.

“Hello Natasha,” Frankie said. “It’s been a while.”

“Not long enough,” Nate said under his breath. “Frankie, please help Natasha with her bags and take her back to wherever it was that she flew in from on her broomstick.”

Natasha turned with a huff and stormed into his bedroom where he hoped she was gathering her things. The night had gone from bad to worse. Luckily he’d remembered the paparazzi waiting at the entrance of his apartment building before he’d tossed Natasha out to them. It was probably what she wanted, to get back in the news. But he could trust Frankie to take her down to the parking garage and dispose of her quietly. Now he just had to clean up the mess she’d made with Stevie.

“Is Stevie still here?” Nate asked Frankie.

“She was in the elevator when I got your call. I did some damage control but—”

Nate sighed, yeah he knew. How do you explain to one woman what a half-naked different woman was doing in your apartment? Even if he wasn’t to blame for what had happened, it wouldn’t matter to her. He’d take the hit. He had no other choice and they still had to discuss the whole paparazzi situation and whether or not they were going to announce that they were working together. It was going to be a long-ass night.

She should have known that she couldn’t trust Nate, not that they’d made promises to each other. It had only been one kiss, a really hot kiss, but still just a kiss. He hadn’t declared his love for her. They weren’t even dating for god’s sake, but still she felt betrayed.

Stevie recognized the other woman. She’d seen her and Nate in photographs and knew that they’d been a couple. They’d also had a spectacular breakup that had resulted in a Twitter war with hashtags #TeamNate and #TeamNatasha. She was also the absolute last person that Stevie would ever think Nate would want back in his life. From what she had read, not that she had stalked him or anything, Nate had gone to rehab for a couple of months after they broke up, and said she’d been the one supplying him and enabling him.

Seeing her in his apartment just didn’t make sense and now that she had calmed down a bit, she could see that. Her initial reaction had been fueled by hurt, but now, as she paced outside his apartment, waiting for Frankie to escort Natasha out, she could see that logically it didn’t make sense. Nate was clean and he was in a good place professionally, ready to break back into the charts in a big way, why would he throw that all away for someone like Natasha?

Her phone buzzed in her hand and she looked down at the caller display. Darla.

Stevie tapped the answer button and held it to her ear.

“Where the hell are you Stevie?” Darla’s voice was loud and Stevie moved it from her ear. “Jace is home and he said he hasn’t seen you or Nate all night. I swear to god if you’ve hooked up with him I’m gonna—”

“What? You’re gonna what?” Stevie sighed. “I’m at his apartment and it’s all your fault I’m here, just so you know.”

“What the hell do you mean it’s my fault—”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a little tweet that you sent out about me performing at Santa’s Bar tonight.”

“So what, it was harmless. We gotta get your name out there—”

“Yeah, well, you did that all right. There was a horde of paps waiting for us when we left the bar. Nate’s driver had to rescue us and then brought us here so we can meet with our managers to work out how the hell to play this whole media storm.”

“Oh—”

“Yeah, oh. What were you thinking Darla?”

“I was thinking that you needed the exposure—”

“I have a manager that handles our social media, specifically so that this doesn’t happen.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she said and Stevie sighed, hearing the remorse in her voice.

“Look, I know you love me and you want me to succeed, but we’re in the big leagues now. It’s not like the old days when we were playing dive bars and uploading clips to YouTube. I have a brand now. The band has a brand and everything that goes out to the media has to build our brand.”

“But you guys where shit-hot tonight,” she said.

“Yeah and we were only three-quarters of the band. Jace wasn’t there. And then the paps got photos of Nate and I leaving and they were asking us all these questions… it was a nightmare.”

“What do you want me to tell the others?”

“Just tell them I’m okay and I will explain everything when I get home.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Stevie breathed, “I will be. I just have to get through this meeting and work out a plan and then I’ll be fine.”

The door opened and Stevie saw Frankie gripping Natasha’s elbow and practically dragging her out the door. At the same time, the elevator dinged and the doors opened revealing Marci and another woman that she could only assume was Mabel. She was younger than Stevie expected.

“Look, I gotta go,” Stevie said to Darla. “We’ll talk later.”

They disconnected and Stevie turned to Marci, trying hard to smile and look in control even though her emotions were so mixed up she didn’t know which way was up right now.

“Hey Stevie,” Marci said as she watched Frankie and Natasha get on the elevator and disappear from sight.

“Hey Marci,” Stevie said tiredly. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t in control and she didn’t know how to get back to stable ground and find her balance.

“Hi, I’m Mabel,” the other woman said, sticking out her hand and grabbing Stevie’s in a firm handshake.

“Stevie,” she replied with a half-hearted smile.

“Good to finally meet you. Should we go in?”

The door swung open again and Nate stood there looking mutinous. He stepped aside as they all trooped in and he reached out to take Stevie’s hand briefly as she passed him. The touch branded her, but she refused to acknowledge the heat that ripped through her veins. Seeing Natasha in this apartment was a wakeup call. It was a very bad idea to get involved with Nate on anything other than a professional level. She had followed his career; she had seen the photos of so many women. She knew his reputation. There was no way she was going to allow herself to be just another Nate Nash cast off. Her music and her career were too important to let her hormones get in the way. She’d been able to keep her hands off him for all those years they worked together in the past and she could do it again now.

“Right,” Marci said, “tell us what’s going on.”

Hopefully by the end of the night, they would have all of this sorted out and everything back in nice, neat little boxes. Marci was a whiz and from the looks of Mabel, she was just as capable. All Stevie would have to do is stuff all those pesky feelings back into the dark corner of her heart where they had been living since she was a teenager. Easy, no sweat. So why did she think it was going to be an almost impossible task?