With enormous self-control, I free myself and take Jax's hand firmly in mine, the one already sneaking up my side.

"Jax, we have an audience. I know we want everybody to think we're a couple but -"

"Let's go," he interrupts and before I can say anything else, he tightens his grip on my hand and drags me in the direction of the open doorway.

We pause in the red-carpeted hallway outside the main room of the VIP area. One direction leads to stairs descending into the public part of the restaurant, and in the other are the VIP restrooms I recently visited.

"I'll call someone to bring a car round," says Jax and I giggle. "What?"

"You, Mr. Important who can click his fingers and five minute later have a personal chauffeur waiting."

Jax grins. "f.u.c.king awesome, right?"

The heavy sound of a door closing at the opposite end of the hallway behind me interrupts and Jax's eyes widen as he looks over my shoulder. "Tegan," he whispers.

"What?"

I turn. Nate and Riley stand outside the restroom door. Riley's hair has escaped the usual ponytail, strands falling across her face. She carries her high-heeled shoes in one hand and straightens the strap of her short blue dress with the other. When Nate spots us, he steps away from her and crosses his arms. In response, Riley's mouth falls open and she shoves him. I can't hear what she mutters at him but I'm betting it's not pleasant. Not looking at anybody, Riley drops her shoes on the floor, slips her feet in, and stalks in our direction.

"How's your evening going, Riley?" asks Jax as she pa.s.ses.

"Good, thanks. You?" Riley stops and looks at our joined hands. "Oh. Cute. Were you two waiting for the bathrooms?" Riley jerks her head in Nate's direction.

Nate now rests against the wall, staring at the carpet, as if Riley doesn't exist. What a douche.

"Didn't realise you were occupied. The bathroom I mean," replies Jax. I squeeze his fingers, warning him to stop teasing.

"You can't have waited here long, we were only in there a few minutes," she says loudly in Nate's direction.

I expected Riley to deny what's obviously happened but that's clearly not occurring. "Have you..." I begin, "With -"

"Ask him," she retorts and walks away.

"Nate! Dude! Smiley Riley?" calls Jax as Riley heads back into the function room. "Seriously? No way!"

Once Riley is out of sight, Nate approaches and points at me. "What about you and her?"

Jax scoffs. "Hardly a comparison!"

"Excuse me? Standing here!" I retort.

Nate looks at me, and gives Jax a sly smile. "We can compare notes later if you like?"

How drunk is this d.i.c.khead? Jax's fingers crush mine. "Will's right, you're s.h.i.t-faced otherwise I'd smack you for that."

"Sure, you don't usually shy away from giving us a run down." He leans closer to me. "Jax has a ratings system."

"Shut the f.u.c.k up!" snaps Jax.

I stiffen. "What?"

"Chicks. Scores out of ten. Their looks, their skill at -" Nate is interrupted by Jax smacking him in the chest, and he stumbles back. "Whoa, calm down."

"I haven't done that recently."

"Yeah, you boring b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Looks like you failed to impress Riley!" says Jax.

"That, as they say, is a long f.u.c.king story." He adjusts his jeans. "Just not tonight."

I pull a face and look away. Am I seeing a typical night out for Ruby Riot? Nate and Will strike me as guys who live life to the max in every way. I'm pulled in my their sense of humour and exuberance, but I've never seen this side of them. The tall guy covered in piercings, tattoos wrapped around his arms looks unfazed, as if getting caught in this situation is a common occurrence. What's weirder is I wouldn't put Nate down as somebody straight-laced Riley would go for. Maybe that's the appeal. Either that or she's as drunk as he is.

"Gotta go. Have fun kiddos," Nate says and saunters away.

"OhmiG.o.d!" I splutter, staring after him.

Jax pushes a hand into his hair. "Um. About the things he said..."

"Which bit? b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, Jax. Is this what you guys do?"

"Sometimes."

"Ugh!" I start to walk in the direction Riley went but he catches my arm.

"Don't listen to him. I wouldn't do that with you."

"Can we leave now?"

Jax drags me to him and looks at me warily. "You're not going to let this spoil things with us are you?"

"Because Nate screwed Riley in the bathrooms? None of my business."

Nate's words about Jax rating girls after he has s.e.x with them repeat in my mind.

"Okay?" he asks.

"Trying to be."

"You know you're worth more than that, right?"

"d.a.m.n straight, I wouldn't have s.e.x in there!" I wrinkle my nose. "Just... eww."

"No, I mean the other thing Nate said."

I pull my hand away. "When did you last have s.e.x with somebody, Jax?"

Without taking his eyes off mine, he replies, "Not since the tour started. That's why he's calling me a boring b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Really?"

"Why doubtful? I was going to the night in Portugal, I admit that. But you saw what happened. Then... You. I wanted you." He says the words in a low voice, stepping forward to wind an arm around my waist again.

"And? You want lots of girls. Why stop because of me?"

"I knew you were off-limits and at first I thought that's why I wanted you."

I push his hand from my waist. "Is that why you're doing this?"

"h.e.l.l, no. I started to obsess about you everyday and couldn't wait to see you. Then you snuck into my dreams at night too. I wanted you and knew I'd have no chance if I umm... indulged with other girls."

I smile at his clumsy attempt to tell me how he feels. If he'd said this a day ago I wouldn't have believed him, but there's sincerity in his eyes. "You don't have to sweet talk me, Jax. You made that clear tonight, risking life and limb telling Bryn."

He tips my chin. "I'm a lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d because I got the girl. I intend to keep hold of her. Will and Nate can stick to their groupies, I'm only interested in you."

"And now the world knows."

"And now the world knows," he repeats softly and kisses me. "Let's go."

We head down the red-carpeted stairs, into the bright lights and hubbub of the main diner. Eighties rock competes with chatter, and diners sit at chrome tables beneath the rock memorabilia held in cases on the wall. When I arrived a couple of hours ago, the place was half-full, and now every table is occupied. A waiter pa.s.ses us, singing along to the music and the smell of fried food reaches me from the plate he carries.

A group of girls in a booth at the opposite side of the restaurant looks up from their colourful c.o.c.ktails, zoning in on us. On Jax. I can't hear over the noise; but if I could, I'd hear the teenage girl squeal at her friend. I freeze as I scan the rest of the room. The number of people looking at us, some with more interest than others, unnerves me.

I take Jax's hand and he pulls it away. My stomach sinks and I'm about to walk off when he wraps an arm around my shoulder instead. "Come on."

I'm thankful the restaurant is full and hope n.o.body is about to pounce on us in a crowded, public place. I allow Jax to manoeuvre me to the large entrance, grateful for his protective embrace. Before we reach the doors, the young girl from the table appears and steps in front of us. She thrusts a menu at Jax, hand shaking as she holds a pen too.

"Can you sign this?" she asks breathlessly.

"s.h.i.t," he mutters.

I meet her brown eyes and she scrutinises me. Her brows tug together, and I'm uncomfortable by her judgment of me. "Just do it and let's go," I hiss.

The girl watches him with open adoration. Jax has dropped his arm from me to take the menu and leaving me vulnerable. I dart a look around; and as soon as Jax takes the menu, several other people take this as the signal he's here for an autograph session and head over.

"Jax, we should go. Move."

A different girl's phone camera flashes in our face and I blink, dazzled. Jax's fingers grip mine and he pulls us away. People call his name and he picks up the pace, pushing past people and through the gla.s.s doors.

The Parisian evening is cool and my rapid breath mists in front of me. A not so-welcoming group of photographers hangs in the street outside the cafe, the flash from their camera bigger and brighter than the girls' cameras inside.

"f.u.c.k, where's the car?" asks Jax.

The volume of people calling Jax's name rises and I'm jostled as people descend on us. "Jax! Move!"

He's continues to walk forward, head bowed and my pulse rate hikes as people start shouting my name, asking who I am.

A burly man emerges through the crowd, with relief I recognise him from the airport as a part-driver, part-security detail.

"Why did you come out of the front doors?" he shouts as he places himself between the press pack and me.

"Because I didn't f.u.c.king think about taking the back way!" Jax shouts back.

A large, black Audi is pulled up on the side of the road and he shepherds us over. "Get in!"

Shaking, I grab the handle as Jax stands behind. We barely have time to put the seatbelt on before the guy hits the accelerator and we speed away into the Paris traffic.

Stunned by the reaction, I stare forward, chest tight with panic. "Holy c.r.a.p, Jax. Does that happen every time you go out in public?"

He rakes fingers through his fringe. "Not as bad as that. They weren't at the bar this afternoon when I was with the other guys."

"Everybody knows you and Blue Phoenix were there tonight!" calls the man from the driver's seat. "They were waiting for all and any of you dumb enough to step outside the front."

Jax takes my damp palm. "Are you okay?"

"This evening has not turned out the way I expected. They knew my name already!"

As we head back to the hotel, I take calming breaths, remain cuddled against Jax, and consider what the h.e.l.l happens next.

24.

TEGAN.

The illuminated forecourt of the hotel should be a welcome respite but there're group of fans and photographers sitting on the low wall outside. The man, who has introduced himself as Jean-Marc, swears and manoeuvres the car through a side street and around the back of the imposing building.

"Have you been doing something you shouldn't?" he asks. "They're out in force!"

A couple of skilled paparazzi have found their way through the metal security gates to the back entrance to the hotel and step forward with large cameras and smug looks as the car approaches.

"For f.u.c.k's sake!" snaps Jax.

I don't want to leave the safety of the car but the two men reach the car as it stops. No, I have to. We jump from the car and take the short walk to the building's back doors, again partially shielded by Jean-Marc. When we enter the sanctuary of the hotel, I slump onto the nearest chair.

"This is crazy, Jax!" I say, short of breath.

Jax stares into s.p.a.ce, hands in his jacket pockets. He turns bewildered eyes to me. "How the h.e.l.l did that happen?"

A young guy in the smart blue and black hotel uniform stops as he pa.s.ses and looks at us.

I stand. "Jax, take me back to my room."