Aria ran her fingers through her hair, staring at her reflection in the hotel mirror. Silently, she mouthed her audition lines as she grabbed her mascara tube and pulled out the wand. Applying a few more coats to her lashes, she tried to bury the nerves fluttering in her stomach.

"You've got this, Aria Marie Reynolds," she muttered to herself. "You've got this."

Her cell phone rang from the counter top, and she clicked it on to speaker while she applied a bit more blush to her cheeks. "Hello?"

"Aria, have you been online today?" Her mother's voice sounded frantic.

"What?" She furrowed her brows and picked up a tube of lipstick next. "No. Why?"

"Someone on your flight yesterday snapped a picture of you."

Aria froze. With Ben.

"With your boyfriend," her mother continued. "All cuddled up and kissing him. The internet is ablaze with trying to figure out who is Aria Rose's mystery man."

"Shit." Aria sighed and picked up the phone, turning off the speaker and holding it up to her ear. She remembered one of the flight attendants with her phone out giving her furtive glances, and guessed she'd probably been the leak. "Mom, I can explain."

"Good, because I'd love to know why the paparazzi knows about your love life before your own mother. Who is this man and why has he not come over for dinner?"

Aria chuckled lightly. "He's not my boyfriend. We're not dating."

"Well, if he lives in Los Angeles, I expect him over for dinner soon."

"Not happening, Mom."

"Wasn't asking, Aria. Anyway, leave early for your audition because you might have some paparazzi issues in the lobby. They already know where you're staying."

Aria groaned. "Crap. I need to leave now then. I'll call you after the audition. Thanks for the heads up, Mom."

"Love you, baby. Kill them dead out there."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mother."

After hanging up the phone, she tossed it into her clutch along with her hotel key card. A wide-brimmed hat and giant sunglasses later, she was ready to go.

Stepping onto the elevator, she continued going over her lines in her head. This role was exciting, and she wanted to knock it out of the park. Murals had been her top choice, but the HBO show was her second choice and she wanted it just as badly. Aria stepped into the lobby after the elevator doors opened.

A frenzied-looking hotel clerk came rushing over to her. "Miss Rose?"

She offered him a wide smile. "Yes?"

"We've arranged for you to go out a side entrance." He gestured toward a hallway leading away from the main doors.

Aria frowned and looked to the revolving door that she'd entered last night. Lights began flashing, hands banged against the glass, and the shouting sounded like a dull roar.

"ARIA ROSE! ARIA ROSE! WHO ARE YOU DATING?"

"TELL US HIS NAME!"

"ARE YOU GETTING MARRIED?"

"IS THIS A STUNT FOR YOUR UPCOMING MOVIE?"

"ARE YOU IN LOVE?"

There were only about a dozen photographers, and yet, they had all the persistence and volume of a giant crowd.

Aria stepped back, her hand to her chest. "What the..."

"Please, miss. Follow me," the clerk said, pointing again to the back entrance.

Tears stung her eyes as she quickly followed him. It was all so overwhelming, and she didn’t know what to make of the situation. She'd never been followed by paparazzi before. A photo sold here or there, sure, but actual interest in her and her life? Never.

If anything, her biggest following had always been on social media. Photos she chose and shared with her fans. She loved the control of it, the ability to share herself with the world but in a way that still made her feel safe and comfortable. Her strength in marketing her image on those sites had really catapulted her career—apparently more than she’d even realized.

The clerk graciously showed her through a side entrance and into a waiting car service. "Please give us a call on your way back, and we'll make sure to have the side cleared for you to enter."

"Thank you. I will."

"Where are we headed, Miss Rose?" the driver called from the front seat.

Aria gave him the address and sat back in her seat. Her hands were shaking as she replayed all the things the reporters had been shouting. Opening her clutch while still trembling, she pulled at her phone and called the only person she could think of.

"Aria?" he answered the phone on the second ring.

"Ben..." Her voice caught, and she sniffed, trying to find her calm. "Have you seen the news?"

"I just did. Are you okay?"

"The hotel...a dozen photographers...everyone was shouting at me. I've never—Ben, I've never...I would never call them. You know I didn't do this, right?"

"Aria, I have no doubt you weren't involved. It was probably that flight attendant who kept staring at us. But, seriously, are you okay? You sound really worked up."

"Of course I'm worked up, Ben." Aria tossed her hand up in the air in frustration. "My photos are all over the internet. Photographers know what hotel I'm at. This isn't my life...this isn't who I am. I'm a private person."

Ben chuckled, and it irritated the crap out of her. "You're probably going to have a lot more of that in the years to come. Your career is on the rise."

Aria groaned, rubbing a hand to her face. "What if people figure out who the mystery man in the photo is? Ben, they're going to think..."

"They're not going to find out. I saw the photos and your hand is on my face in the majority of them. It's pretty hard to make out who it is."

"Really?" That was good news, at least. She couldn't have her relationship with Ben getting out there.

He'd be considered the stud who bagged the up-and-coming actress, but she'd be called the slut sleeping her way to the best roles.

"And even if they did find out, I'd never let them print a bad word about you." His voice lowered, almost husky. "You know that, right?"

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "Promise?"

"Yes. It'll all be okay," he assured her.

His voice was so soothing that she felt herself calming down. This wasn't the end of the world. It was just a sign of her career flourishing.

It was a good thing. Right?

"I guess I just got really flustered by the attention. I like my privacy, and I definitely didn't like all the photographers out there yelling at me. The assumptions...I just don't want to be in the tabloids."

"Understandable," he replied gently. "But also, a hazard of the profession."

"I know. Sorry for calling," she said softly into the phone. "I know we said—"

"Don't ever be sorry for calling, Aria," he interrupted. "I'm here whenever you need me."

She was quiet for a moment, just enjoying hearing the sound of his breathing on the other end. "Goodbye, Ben."

"Goodbye, Aria."

She hung up the phone and tucked it back into her clutch. They were almost to her destination, and she had to concentrate on her audition. She didn't have time to worry about what the internet was saying about her, or her mystery man.