You adjust the collar of your blazer, take a deep breath, and step out of the sleek black SUV. The cameras are already flashing, the excited screams of the crowd echoing through the night air. You’re used to it by now—the red carpets, the premieres, the chaos. But you’re not the star of the show. You never are.

He steps out behind you, and the energy shifts instantly. The screams get louder, almost deafening, as he raises a hand in greeting. He smiles—that signature, breathtaking smile that has made millions fall for him. Tall, effortlessly confident, dressed in an immaculate black suit that fits him perfectly. Mathew Xander. The biggest name in Hollywood right now. And your client.

You keep a polite distance, staying in your role: his manager, his handler, the person who keeps his schedule on track and his life from spiraling into a PR nightmare. You’re good at it. You have to be. But that doesn’t stop the piercing stares from some of the fans, the ones who would give anything to be in your position.

They don’t know you—not really. That’s intentional. You’ve kept your identity as private as possible, avoiding interviews, dodging the speculation that follows anyone who gets too close to him. But they see you. They see how much time you spend with him, how you stand close when the cameras aren’t on him, how he listens when you speak. And they hate you for it.

Mathew leans in slightly as you both walk toward the entrance, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “You alright?”

You glance up at him, surprised. He doesn’t usually ask. But tonight, maybe he’s noticed the extra edge in the crowd, the way security had to hold a few people back.

“I’m fine,” you say smoothly, professional as ever.

His lips twitch in that almost-smirk. “You always say that.”

Because it’s always true. Or at least, it has to be.