I’m holding my breath as I stare at the elevator bank in anticipation of Lucas Ford emerging to apologize for his boorish behavior. I can’t help worrying this might be some sort of trick. Is he coming down here to embarrass me again the same way he did the other night in his suite, but this time in front of Danica? Or will he apologize to me sincerely?

Loud singing and giggling erupts to my right, and when I look toward the noise I see a gaggle of thirty-something-year-old women entering the lobby, fresh from what looks like a drunken night out. A girls’ trip or bachelorette party, I presume. We get that sort of thing a lot here at The Rockford.

I make my way from behind the front desk toward the loud revelers, my fake smile firmly in place. “Hey, ladies,” I say. “I’m sorry to be a buzzkill, but you’re going to have to take the volume down a bit so we don’t—”

“Oh my God,” one of the women blurts, her eyes fixed on a target behind me.

“Lucas Ford!” another one yells.

“I love you!” a third woman shrieks.

And they’re off, rushing past me in a frenzy of excitement.

I whirl around to find Lucas standing fifteen feet away in a dark gray T-shirt and jeans, half-heartedly waving at the women as they rush him. And in seconds—whether he’s in the mood to be ambushed or not—he’s sucked into the eye of a tornado. Wow, these women are relentless. They’re taking selfies, giving Lucas hugs and kisses, and enthusiastically fawning all over him. One of the women rummages into her purse for a pen and asks Lucas to sign her boob—which he does, much to the shrieking delight of the group. Another member of the group calls her sister, who apparently was dead asleep when the call came in, and shoves her phone under Lucas’s nose and demands he sing happy birthday to her.

I amble behind the front desk, watching the frenzy. “Wow,” I whisper to Danica. “Dance, monkey boy, dance.”

“Give the poor dude some personal space,” Danica whispers back.

“If this is Lucas’s daily life,” I whisper, “I wouldn’t switch places with him for anything.”

Finally, after Lucas has kissed every last one of his adoring fans and sung to the sister and signed the boob and posed for selfies and signed a cell phone cover and grocery receipt and chuckled and smiled and been as gracious as any rock star could possibly be, he waves to the women and says, “Okay, I’ve got to do my thing now, ladies. Have a great night.”

The women titter and giggle and hug him and kiss him again, and finally head toward the elevators on a cloud of euphoria, finally leaving Lucas free to approach the front desk.

“Hello, Mr. Ford. Sir,” I say, punctuating that last word with unmistakable snark.

“Hey, Abby the Assassin,” he replies. He rests his muscled forearms on the counter between us. “I’ve decided Ass-kicker doesn’t do you justice anymore.” He rolls his eyes and it takes all my willpower not to grin. “Can I talk to you privately for a sec?” he asks. He motions toward a quiet corner of the lobby. “Please?”

“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it in front of Danica,” I say primly. I cross my arms over my chest.

Lucas cocks his head to the side and flashes me a panty-melting smile I’ve not seen from him before. A smile that plainly tells me he finds my attitude toward him highly amusing.

“What is it, Mr. Ford?” I ask. “I’m listening.”

Lucas looks at Danica. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Stay,” I command to Danica, not taking my eyes off Lucas.

Danica fidgets but doesn’t leave.

Lucas exhales with obvious exasperation.

“Say what you need to say here, Mr. Ford. And please get to it. I’ve got some reports to do.”

“Abby,” Danica chastises me.

But I don’t care if I’m being bad. This asshole deserves everything I’m serving up to him and more. I continue staring at Mr. Rock Star, my jaw clenched, waiting to find out if this is a trick or the real deal.

“Jesus,” he finally mutters, shaking his head. He runs his hand through his hair and exhales. “I’m sorry I was a dick to you, Abby. Please forgive me. Sometimes, I forget the world doesn’t revolve around me. Because, you know, the world actually does revolve around me.” He smirks. “Now, would you please come to my suite so I can show you something?”

“Whatever you want to show me, I’ve already seen it,” I say. “I’ve seen your sex tape, remember?”

Danica snickers.

But Lucas doesn’t seem to find my comment funny. In fact, he looks like he wants to strangle me. I must admit, it’s a good look for him. “I don’t want to show you my dick,” he says, his jaw clenched. “If that’s what I want, I could have fucked the woman who asked me to sign her tit and tried to slip me her room key.” He rolls his eyes. “Abby, I want to play you a song I wrote. A song about you.”

My jaw drops.

Lucas flashes me a cocky smile. “And then I want to show you my dick.” He grins at Danica and she literally snorts. Lucas looks at me again. “So will you please come up to my suite now? I’m not going to stand here begging you all night. People are gonna come in and swarm me again if I stand here much longer and I’m not in the mood to be Lucas Fucking Ford tonight. I’m tired—really fucking tired, Abby—and in the middle of an amazing writing session. So, decide. Are you coming with me or not? You’ve got three seconds to make your decision and then I’m out.”

I look at Danica, my brain short-circuiting and my heart racing.

“Three… two…” Lucas says.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Danica blurts. “Go, Abby! He’s Lucas Fucking Ford!”