Under The Spotlight

On the drive back, both of them kept glancing at the mirrors like they were in a spy movie. Ethan had insisted on dropping Nadine off, just in case the press still had them in their sights.

What was supposed to be a chill lunch turned into a full-blown circus. All he wanted now was to get her home safe and away from flashing cameras and shouted questions.

God, what a mess.

He was supposed to play it smart. Quiet. Keep things under the radar. Not walk into a paparazzi ambush outside a beachfront hotel like some rookie celebrity on their first scandal.

When he pulled up in front of her apartment, Nadine turned to him. "You wanna come up?"

He hesitated. God, yes, he wanted to. He wanted to pretend none of this had happened, just follow her upstairs, shut the world out, and deal with life later. But he shook his head.

"Can't. Got something I need to handle first."

She nodded, unbuckled, and got out. He waited until she was safely inside before driving off.

His phone buzzed nonstop. He didn't need to check, he already knew. Chase and the agency were probably scrambling: drafting statements, planning distractions, maybe staging a fake relationship or a spontaneous charity project. Something to keep Twitter busy.

As he pulled into the management lot, the reality hit.

Reporters. Everywhere.

Circling like sharks that smelled blood in the water.

"Shit," he muttered, slamming the heel of his palm against the steering wheel.

How did they find out this fast? Who tipped them off? Someone at the hotel? A random waiter? Some tourist with too much time and a fast Wi-Fi connection?

He swung the car toward the basement entrance, hoping for a backdoor.

Nope. Basement's swarmed too.

He groaned. "This day's straight out of a soap opera."

With no other option, he pulled out his phone and dialed the one person chaotic enough to help him out of this: Aaron.

"Where are you?" Ethan asked the second the call connected.

"Studio. Why?" Aaron sounded confused but not concerned.

"I need you. Basement level at the office. I'll text you the details."

"Uh... what's going on?"

Ethan hung up. No time for backstory. He switched over to WhatsApp and fired off a string of messages.

Ethan:

Say whatever you want. Lie. Dance. Flash your abs. Just get the press away from the basement. I need to get in.

Aaron:

Chill. Leave it to Aaron Ricardo.

Ethan:

My life, my death… all in your hands, dude.

He tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and waited. A few minutes later, it buzzed again.

Aaron:

Mission clear.

Ethan grinned, grabbed the phone, and peeked through the window.

Sure enough, the coast was clearing. Reporters were moving, cameras down, a couple interns packing up their mics like they were late for class.

Okay. We're good.

Ethan slipped out of the car and hustled toward the emergency door. By the time he hit the lobby upstairs, he could finally breathe again.

"Ayo, superstar!" Aaron called out, strolling over with that signature smug grin, like he'd just landed a plane with nothing but charm and a PowerPoint.

Ethan crossed his arms, smirking. "I can't believe that worked. What the hell did you tell them?"

Aaron gave a proud shrug. "Just mentioned I overheard something about a certain A-list actress caught red-handed with a government official. In a very compromising position. Boom. They were gone."

"You made that up?"

"Completely."

"And they believed you?"

Aaron held up his coffee cup. "Please. I've got one of those faces people trust. I could say Beyoncé was hiding in a janitor's closet and they'd start knocking on broom doors."

Ethan snorted. "That's ridiculous."

"Exactly. That's why it works."

Aaron clapped a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "Maybe your little drama just isn't headline-worthy anymore. Lunch with a girl? Yawn. The press wants betrayal, scandal, emotional breakdowns. You gave them sparkling water and soft conversation."

Ethan laughed despite himself. "Thanks for the reality check."

"Anytime," Aaron said with a wink. "I accept thank-yous in the form of fancy dinners and limited-edition sneakers."

"Duly noted."

But even as he joked, Ethan could feel the weight settle right back on his shoulders. This was far from over. The media might be off his back for now, but the real crisis? That conversation with Nadine, the one they still hadn't had?

Yeah. That was coming. And he wasn't ready for it.

Ethan now found himself sitting across from his agency's director something that hadn't happened once in the five years he'd been under contract.

Normally, when there was some minor scandal or drama, messages got passed down through his manager or came in the form of a vaguely threatening phone call. Face to face meetings were reserved for capital letter Emergencies. And clearly, this was one of them.

"Care to explain what happened this afternoon?" the director asked, voice calm, but that kind of calm that meant he was this close to flipping a table.

Ethan adjusted in his seat, feigning nonchalance. "Yeah… I was just grabbing lunch with a female friend, and the press happened to be there. That's all."

"Just a friend?" the man repeated, eyebrow raised like he already knew Ethan was full of it.

Ethan hesitated for half a second too long. "Yes, sir," he lied, smoothly enough. He hoped.

The director let the silence hang for a beat before nodding. "Look, I'm not here to police your personal life. You're allowed to date. Hell, you're even allowed to have friends who aren't in the tabloids every week. But for the love of god, keep it clean. Your face is everywhere. You've got fans, millions of them who look up to you, support you, adore you. Don't give them a reason to rethink that."

Ethan nodded, trying to look sufficiently humbled. "Understood. I'll be more careful."

"Good. That's all. The agency will handle whatever spin control we need for now."

"Thanks," Ethan said, standing and giving a small nod of gratitude before leaving the office.

As he walked out, he let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

The reason he hadn't told the truth wasn't because he was afraid of what the agency would do. It wasn't even about protecting himself.

He hadn't said anything about Nadine because she deserved better than to have their situation whatever the hell it was turned into a PR talking point.

Slapping a label on it for damage control didn't sit right with him. Not when they hadn't even figured out what label they were using for each other yet.

***