At least I didn’t fall on my ass.

Those words are on permanent loop as I lean back in my dressing room chair. I slowly trace a thin crack in the ceiling paint as my boyfriend lobs the same argument at me.

“…and I’m telling you that you should be out there celebrating.”

I grab my water glass off my vanity. My legs may be on strike, but at least my arms are still working. “I don’t think going to the afterparty’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m exhausted! All I’ve done today is dance and sing and try to remember the complicated moves that Jose foisted on me this afternoon.”

Cody grows desperate. “Autumn, please, I had everything planned. Atlanta’s hottest club is waiting for you.”

“I know, but I’m more worried about the show I just did. How did my fans take the change?”

“Why don’t you ask them yourself tonight?”

My glass pauses halfway to my lips. “Fans will be there?”

“Of course! You’re always saying how important it is to mingle.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You wouldn’t want to let down your fans, right?”

Checkmate.

I press my hand to my forehead and nod. “Alright, but I really am tired.”

Cody walks over and pulls me into a tight hug. “I know, so we won’t stay long.” He waves to Michaela loitering in the doorway. “Tell them to expect us in thirty minutes.”

I pull back from Cody’s shoulder as my PR agent walks off. “Thirty minutes? How far is this place?”

“Not far, but you need to change. You want to look sexy, fierce, for your fans. Not like you just gave a two-hour-long concert.”

“But I did just give a two-hour-long concert,” I say as Cody pulls out his phone.

“But they don’t have to smell it.”

I sneak a sniff at myself and give a defeated shrug. “Fair enough. I’ll change.”

Cody grins as my stylist Kendra sashays into the room, balancing effortlessly on her tall stilettos. Six foot, teased out afro, and a booty that would make Beyonce jealous, the woman knows her shit when it comes to fashion.

“You’re going to love what Kendra picked out for you, babe,” Cody says. He kisses my cheek before handing me over to her. “I can’t wait to see you in it.”

* * *

I’m fuming in the back of the VIP lounge of Purr. It may be the trendiest nightclub in Atlanta, but it’s also the dimmest.

I squint at the people gliding by me in heels that put Kendra’s to shame. Everyone is ultra-fashionable, model-beautiful, and glimmering under the strobe lights flashing across the dance floor below us. Then there’s me, parked on an uncomfortable leather couch with a scowl on my face that is one hundred percent directed at my boyfriend.

I watch Cody deliver his punchline to a group of (you guessed it) gorgeous clubbers. I suppose they’re technically my guests since they’re at my afterparty, but I don’t know anyone here except for my crew. The few introductions Cody forced on me before I made this couch my home gave me all the info I needed. Marketers, fashion designers, music industry big leaguers, professional athletes—I have nothing against them, but would it have killed my manager to add a country singer to the frickin’ list?

Not to mention there weren’t any fans. Not. One. I’m beyond livid.

Cody frowns as he catches my eye. He says something to his new fans before breaking away from the group and heading for me. “What’s wrong?” he asks in a puppy-dog voice. I fight the urge to strangle him. “Don’t wanna work the room?”

“You’re working it enough for both of us.”

Cody leans in and cups his ear. “Sorry, what?”

I lean forward and plaster a smile on my face. “Where are my fans, Cody? You remember—the one’s you promised me would be here?”

“I’m sure they’re on their way.”

“So you did invite them?”

“Of course.” Cody glances at his watch, but not before I see the look of alarm on his face. “Uh, look, I have a bunch more people to talk to. Are you sure you don’t want to join me? There are really important people here.”

“Why would it matter? I have no idea who the hell I’m looking at.”

Before I can get up, Cody leans over and brings his lips close to my ear. “You look sexy tonight, did I tell you that?”

“No. Somehow you forgot.”

“Well, I’ll make it up to you later.” Cody’s breath is hot against my flushed skin. “We’ve got that hotel room for one more night, right?”

I bite my lip and nod, hating the way that my anger is fading away.

He plants a soft kiss on my lips before pulling back. “Then let’s make it count.”

Suddenly I’m glad this bar is one shade lighter than black. I don’t want him to see how easily his words affect me. I want him to know he’s crossed the line this time.

Cody gets up and holds out his hand. “Coming?”

I shake my head. Not only do I not want to reward bad behavior, but at this point, I’m not sure I’ll make through a little time between the sheets. I’m a dead woman walking.

“Okay, but I call a dance later.”

Unless my legs fall off.

Zoe plops down next to me as he strolls off. “How’s the girl of the hour?”

“Tired, cranky, and worried about this dress,” I grumble, polishing off my club soda.

Her gaze runs over me before landing on my legs. “Why? You’ve got the legs for it.”

“And thank God because it barely covers my ass.” I offer up a prayer for loud music as I pry my skin off of the sticky leather. No one wants to hear that. “Seriously, my ass is all over this couch right now.”

My eyes jump to Bryce as he shifts slightly across the lounge. He briefly meets my eyes before turning toward a throng of dancers. There’s no way he heard me, not with Lady Gaga blaring out of a hundred speakers, but the thought still churns my stomach. Ever since I walked out of my dressing room, Bryce wouldn’t look directly at me. He must dislike my scandalous outfit as much as I do.

I point to my bright purple platforms with little spikes lining the base. “Take these,” I shout at Zoe over the throbbing beat. “I love them, but they’re going to kill anyone that comes within five inches of me.”

Zoe shrugs. “You’re always saying how much you like your personal space.”

“But possible maiming-slash-impaling?” I shake my head. I put my cup down and begin the laborious task of getting to my feet. “I’ve danced all day, but maybe a little ass shaking will make me feel better.” Maybe Cody was right: I did need a tiny bit of fun.

The look I get from my assistant makes me wonder if this dress finally crested my hips. A quick glance down puts that fear to bed.

“But I have something I need to do first.”

Zoe’s eyes follow mine to Bryce. “Uh huh.”

“It’s not like that,” I say a little too fast. “It’s personal.”

A coquettish smile breaks out across her lips. “Sure, sure,” she says with an few elbow nudges. “Go get ’em, tiger!”

“No, wait!” I begin, but I’m talking to air. Zoe disappears past the ropes, grabs some guy away from a drunk redhead, and gives the reins over to Rihanna.

I feel like I’m walking through thick mud as I thread my way toward Bryce. His eyes are cooly surveying the crowd, but that doesn’t fool me. If I so much as sneeze, Bryce sees it. Which means he’s monitoring my approach.

“Hey, Hartman,” he says while I’m still a few steps away. His gaze falls on me and lowers, sweeping over my swept-back hair, showy makeup, and skintight magenta bodycon dress. His eyes are hot and heavy when they find mine. “You look amazing.”

Cody’s compliment and caresses are suddenly a distant second to those simple three words—though I know it’s not the words that are having this effect on me. It’s the man they’re coming from.

Looks like I was wrong. Bryce didn’t hate my outfit, he liked it. A lot.

I step forward and close the gap between us, telling myself it’s so I can be heard over the music, but I know that’s a lie. I crave to be closer to the striking dirty blonde who's caught the eye of every woman in this club. “I never thanked you for joining my team.”

“You never have to thank me for keeping you safe,” he answers. His eyes scan my face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“That little line between your eyebrows says differently.”

Of course he’d notice that. He notices everything.

I snag a passing champagne flute off of a passing tray and raise it to my lips. “I’m exhausted. I’m beginning to think coming here tonight was the worst mistake I’ve made since giving Dolly McDonald’s French fries.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because she was giving me the Basset hound eyes.”

“No…” A smile tugs at his lips. “I meant, come here tonight.”

“Oh! Right. I thought there would be fans here, though as you can see—” I wave my hand around the packed VIP lounge “—nada. But Cody said they’ll be here.”

My skeptical gaze falls on my boyfriend. When I turn back to Bryce, I realize the look didn’t unnoticed.

“So they will,” I add with a bit of forced gusto.

There’s no trace of that smile as he studies me. “I’m worried about you, Autumn.”

I frown. “Why?”

“About how people close to you are—”

“What?” I ask when he stops. I rest a hand on my hip and tilt my head. “Tell me.”

His answer comes a few seconds later. “Are taking advantage of you. I want to help. All I’m asking is that you let me.”

A lump lodges itself in my throat. Doesn’t he know I can hardly put together a coherent thought when he’s looking at me like that?

“I th-think I’ll go dance. Zoe’s probably waiting for me.” I brush by Bryce on my way onstage, and he follows a second later, like my shadow. My silent, annoying shadow that I could do without right about now. I grind to a stop. “What are you doing?”

“Following you.”

“Thanks, captain obvious. But why?”

Instead of answering, he thumbs away a lock of hair as it falls onto my cheek. It’s a simple gesture that shouldn’t send my pulse into overdrive.

“Because I don’t trust the men out on that dance floor,” he says with a hardness that always make my heart beat faster. He takes a step toward me, entering my space and overwhelming my senses. Broad shoulders, the heady scent of cedar and pine, a lock of tousled hair falling over his eyes, the rough grit of his five o’clock shadow…

It’s all I can do to keep standing as he looms over me.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” I say with more confidence than I feel. Bryce had made it his job to keep guys away from me in high school, like some overly protective older brother I never had (or wanted).

His lips draw back in that sexy half-smile that I’m beginning to hate. “I always have.”

I turn tail and run. Multiple pairs of eyes are on me as I stumble over to the velvet ropes marking off the VIP area and pull Zoe off of Mr. Italian Suit. One pair of eyes belongs to my boyfriend, one pair belongs to Bryce, and a hundred pairs belong to the people who are here to pick apart my every move, no doubt wondering how long I’ll survive as pop’s next princess.

I grab Zoe’s hand and give myself a little twirl, putting some of these new dance moves to use. Especially the one that makes my ass wiggle like a Kardashian sister. Then I throw my head back, close my eyes, and let the deep beat of Ariana Grande wash away the crazy thoughts swirling around in my head.

Let them all watch.

And they do—especially a pair of piercing brown eyes that make my blood pound and heart race in an oh-so-sexy way. A way that I’m finding harder and harder to ignore with each and every damn day.