Revolt (Legends and Love)

The rest of the day is a blur of new music and locking down melodies and compositions. At some point, Raff brings us all food, and Jack instantly gets along with them, talking to them like they are old friends. I’m quiet, my eyes on Dal as I think about what he said.

I see you.

What did he mean? I know deep down, and that scares me, so on the ride home, I’m silent, staring out of the window. I feel Cillian’s eyes on me where he sits on the opposite seat, but I don’t make conversation, worried I gave too much of myself away today. If Dal read me that easily, did the others? Do I care?

I don’t know.

My phone rings, and I answer without looking, glad for any excuse for a distraction. “The team is here, Miss Harrow,” the gate guard says. “Should I let them in?”

“Team?” I frown.

“Um, makeup, hair, clothes . . . One second, Miss Harrow.” I hear him talking to someone while I frown. “For the premiere? Uh, of the movie you did the songs for? The action one?” he continues when I’m quiet.

Shit.

Kill List.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I forgot I confirmed that I would attend when I came back—mainly because it was fun to work on and I get along well with the director. Fuck a duck, I’m not in the mood for all the questions and cameras, but it seems I need to be. Plastering on an old, fake smile, I reply, “Of course, let them in. We will be home soon to get ready.”

“Ready for what?” Cillian asks.

Putting down the phone, I meet their eyes. “Have you ever been to a movie premiere?”

Once we arrive, I’m rushed upstairs to my formal dressing room. Luckily, the team has been here before and has everything set up. I take a quick shower and shave before sitting in the chair to let them work their magic. Hair and makeup are done at the same time, so I simply sit like a doll being pampered.

Cillian brings me herbal tea, and I thank him as I sip it and tell him to inform the others that they need suits. I give them a number for someone who I know can help if they need it, and then I’m forced to concentrate. I’m slathered, plucked, poked, and primped before being told to move over to the dressing area. My shoes are put on first, seven-inch sparkling stilettos, showing off my brand-new chrome toenails.

The dress bag is hung before me, and I can’t wait to see it. My hair has been slicked back with curls on the edges, my ears are decorated with several earrings, and my fingers and neck are adorned with numerous pieces of glittery jewelry, which makes me think the dress will be similar.

Usually, I work with the designer I pick to come up with a custom gown, but I’ve worked with this one enough to trust the options he sent. He gets noticed when I wear his designs, and I get to wear a beautiful gown. He’s a newish designer, and when I first started, he was a nobody sewing from his house, but I love his style. Everyone kept pushing big names on me, but I chose him. Every single time, I work with him nearly exclusively. He gets my style, and our partnership works well. He became a big name from dressing me, and I still work with someone who believes in their craft and passion.

When they unzip the bag, I almost cry. Gone are the puffy, beautiful dresses from before, and in their place is a sleek, sexy number. It seems Orita, my designer, has picked up on the change and is very happy. After all, he always wanted to push the boundaries, but my manager rejected it.

Not anymore.

The dress looks like a diamond, all long, sleek lines, and it glitters with a disco ball effect. It takes two people to help me into it. The cupped bodice enhances my breasts and leaves my shoulders bare, where they sparkle from the cream that was smoothed on me. It tightens at my stomach, showing my curves, and then flows down past my feet. When I drag my hand down the dress, it feels like silk covered in thousands of diamonds. I glance up, and when I look in the mirror for the first time, I feel like me—the me on the inside that I see, not the perfect girl they always promoted.

My tattoos are on display, my eyes are smoky and sexy, and my body is worshiped by the dress, encased not covered.

I look beautiful, but it’s more than that. I look confident and put together, something I’m going to need tonight. This will be the first time I’ve attended an event since I got back, red carpet and all, not to mention going alone. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I attended some alone in the past, mainly because Tucker was busy, but I was never single and now I am. All eyes will be on me, looking for my reaction. The questions will be sharp and shouted, wanting to rip me apart, but I won’t let them.

As I head downstairs, holding up the gown, I realize that I won’t be alone and the four men standing in matching black suits at the bottom will never let anything get to me. I never thought much about a security team, but I already feel better, not to mention they are some serious eye candy. Their suits might be meant to make them blend in, but the way they fill them out is anything but, not to mention they look like models themselves. People won’t know if they are actors, stars, or security, and I like that.

The only thing that stands out on their suits is a silver pin they wear as if to match me.

At the base of the stairs, Raff steps forward, offering me his arm. His eyes run down me hungrily, and when he meets my gaze, he smiles. “You are breathtaking. They won’t know what hit them. You’ll be the star.”

“I hope not.” I laugh, and he grins.

“Sorry, there’s no way you’re blending in, beauty,” he purrs as he helps me out the door, only to frown. “Wait here.”

I stop, wondering what he’s doing. He drives the car closer, the gravel crunching under the tires—ah, the gravel.

“It’s fine!” I call, about to step forward when he points at me as he gets out.

“Wait, Miss Harrow,” he barks.

He’s gone for a moment before he turns with the plain board I used when painting the pool house. He lays it in a path to the open door and then comes back for me, taking my hand and walking me to the car.

My team swoons. “What a man!”

I silently agree.

What a man. My ex wouldn’t even open the door for me, worried about getting out first and greeting the paps, and here is this man, who is only employed to protect me, who’s so worried about me falling or tugging my dress on the gravel that he goes out of his way to help me. If I asked, I bet he would have carried me.

They all would.

Once inside the car, I meet Dal’s and Astro’s eyes. They are sitting in the back with me, while Cil and Raff sit in the front. “You look great,” I tell them.

“Nope, we are just here to make sure you shine.” Astro winks. “And baby, you shine so fucking brightly, no one will be able to look away.”

I blush under the heavy makeup, and the appreciative glances Dal shoots my way make me sit up taller.

The drive to the premier isn’t long, even with traffic, but when we pull up, I can see the red-carpet walk has already started. The bright lights of the cinema proudly display Kill List posters everywhere. The stars of the movie pose for pictures before the cinema, talking to reporters and mingling with each other. We have to wait as cars move slowly to let out more actors, directors, and staff, and I use the time to collect myself. It’s almost quiet in the car, but as we stop and the door opens, the screams, questions, music, and people interrupt that, rocking me back to my past.

I glance up, and Dal leans forward. “Do not let them see you hesitate. You are better than that. Show them.”

Nodding, I suck in a calming breath. They slide out, and Dal offers his hand to me. Cameras turn, and questions on who it could be are shouted.

Laying my hand gently in Dal’s, I let him help me out. I want to cover my eyes as numerous flashes blind me, but I smile with practiced charm and step onto the carpet. Dal releases me, and my guards spread out as I pose and wave and slowly begin to move down the carpet, stopping every now and again to pose.

“Here, here, look here!” Some even snap or yell, making me feel like a dog, but I do as I’m told, turning to get my good angles and showing off the dress and my new look.

“Reign, here! Look here! Reign! Reign!” My name is chanted, and I straighten my spine confidently.

“Please, one question, Reign!” I simply wave and move on, stopping farther down to pose for more cameras and live footage. The dress almost tangles between my legs and feet before it’s suddenly released.

I glance back to see Astro fluffing the back of my dress to make it perfect, and I grin at him in thanks, knowing he’s working to show me off. On his way past, he whispers, “Show them what they are missing.” I can’t help but laugh and cameras flash. My every movement is documented and ready to be analyzed.

“Reign, who is he?”

“Reign, where’s Tucker?”

“Reign, did he really cheat on you?”

“Reign, are you angry? Who did he cheat with?”

“Reign, are you seeing anyone else?”

“Reign, who are you wearing?”

There are so many questions, they blend into one. Clearing my throat, I smile politely into the cameras, trying to form a succinct response. “Thank you for welcoming me back so warmly,” I joke, making them chuckle. “I have missed you all so much, and I’m honored by your attention, but tonight, I’m here to celebrate the incredible talent that is overflowing from the film Kill List. That is all. They are the stars this evening, and they deserve every moment. The director, Anthony, is beyond talented, and it was an honor to be invited to work on the scores with them. Enjoy the film.” I wink and then wave as I walk away, heading to the double doors and the safety they provide.

The paps and piranhas might be outside, but the sharks circle inside. The rich and famous are here and watching everyone, waiting for them to trip up.

The doors open for me, and I smile as I lift my dress and climb the stairs, heading inside. The world instantly transforms. Gone is the madness of outside, and inside, glitz and glamor are ever-present. Stars, directors, and producers mingle. They talk and laugh as champagne and hors d’oeuvres are served on trays. Snippets of the film and trailer play on screens all around us, and posters of the stars are on every wall. The architecture of the old cinema is beautiful, decorated in white and ornate gold, with two open, winding staircases leading up to the balconies.

I accept a glass and force myself to mingle. I smile and make small talk that I really don’t give a fuck about. I accept congratulations for the amazing music on the film and praise the filmmakers, all while waiting for it to end. I smile for pictures and social media videos. I’m the life and soul of the fucking party, but deep inside, I’m bored.

My guards see it. I notice their sharp eyes scanning everything, and when anyone gets too close, they move in, but it’s in their knowing gazes as they look at me. They truly see me.

I sneak off to the bathroom, fixing my makeup in the mirror. Taking a deep breath, I head back out, only to run right into a chest.

A familiar chest.

I step back, gaping at Tucker. He blinks at me nervously before smiling. “You’re here. I was hoping I would run into you.”

“What are you doing here?” I demand. We are in a side corridor and all alone.

He tries to back me into the door, and I try to slip around him. We don’t need more rumors, not to mention I don’t want to be alone with him.

“I asked to come as a plus one with one of my friends who’s in the movie. I had to see you. We need to talk, Reign, please. You won’t answer your phone—”

“There’s a reason why,” I scoff, stopping my attempts to get around him when he moves closer. Panic claws at me when I see the intent in his eyes and smell the alcohol on his breath. “Are you drunk?”

“A little. Please, baby, I miss you.”

“Step away from Miss Harrow,” comes a sharp command.

I almost slump in relief at Raff’s voice. I look over to see they are all there and they look furious. “Sir, I asked you to step away from Miss Harrow.”

“We are busy, muscle,” Tucker snaps, looking back at Raff. “Watch our backs, won’t you?” He tries to grab me, but I duck under him. Dal pulls me behind them, and they form a shield between him and me.

“Are you okay?” Raff asks.

I nod, glancing at Tucker to see him glaring at Raff. “What the fuck, man?” he starts.

“She doesn’t want to talk. You were cornering her—”

“Do you know who I am?” Tucker demands.

“Yes, and I don’t care. Our job is to see to Miss Harrow’s well-being, and that includes every part of her, including her happiness,” Raffiel growls, getting in Tucker’s face, and I realize Raff is both taller and bigger than my ex. He’s also scarier and sexier. “You threatened that. If you come near her again, we will have a problem. Do we understand each other?”

“What the fuck, Rey?” Tucker barks, ignoring Raff.

“Let’s go,” I say, tugging on Raff’s sleeve. He’s tense and ready to throw down right here with Tucker. “Please, I don’t want a scene.”

“You’re lucky she’s here,” Raffiel warns. “Next time, she might not be. Heed that warning, Mr. Tucker. Fame and fortune have no bearing on me or my actions. Yes, I know who you are. Now let me tell you who I am. I’m the person with the gun. I’m the person with the training and a file so blacked out by your government that you wouldn’t even know where to start.” He steps closer as Tucker steps back. “I’m the man at her back, so remember that.”

Holy fuck.