All you wanted was a new dress. A simple, ordinary afternoon of browsing through boutiques downtown, flipping through silk and lace, and finding something that made you feel good. But nothing about your life was ordinary—not when your name was plastered on billboards, not when your face filled magazine covers, and certainly not when the whole damn world seemed to stop every time you stepped outside.

You hadn’t even made it past the second store before the whispers started, the camera flashes following soon after. Fans loitered outside, some hopeful for a selfie, others just wanting to say they saw you. A few paparazzi lingered too, their lenses peeking through the windows, waiting for something—anything—to turn into a headline.

“The sooner you pick something, the sooner we can get out of here, starshine,” Steve murmured, his voice low and calm, but his grip around your waist told a different story. Protective. Possessive. Ready to pull you out of here the second things got out of hand.

You glanced up at him, amused despite the way your pulse quickened. “You don’t like shopping with me, Stevie?”

His jaw tightened as his sharp blue eyes swept over the store, scanning for threats hidden among the racks of designer dresses. “It’s not the shopping I mind,” he muttered, adjusting his stance slightly to keep you closer. “It’s the audience.”