The flashbulbs blinded her.

Katy stepped out of the black limousine. She walked down the red carpet, her silver sequined backless gown catching every light. She followed the usher through the gold-trimmed hallway and stepped into the massive Gala ballroom.

She found her seat at the VIP table in the very front row.

The crystal chandelier above her cast a bright, unforgiving light. Katy picked up a flute of champagne. She plastered a flawless, commercial smile on her face for the cameras tracking her every move.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rex sitting at the next table. He raised his glass to her, a nasty smirk on his face. Katy stared right through him, turning her head away.

The ballroom lights suddenly cut out. The loud chatter died instantly.

The giant LED screen on the stage lit up. A fast-paced, aggressive video montage played.

The host walked out to the center microphone. He dragged out the introduction, his voice booming through the speakers, announcing the mystery guest.

Katy's fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne glass. Her manicured nails dug into the fragile glass. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

A sharp, ice-blue spotlight hit the center of the stage. Thick white smoke rolled out from the floorboards.

The hydraulic lift slowly rose. Arther Knowles stood in the center of the smoke. He wore a custom-tailored black suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly.

The entire room erupted. Applause thundered through the ballroom. A-list actresses at the tables behind Katy stood up, clapping wildly.

Katy felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. All the air left her lungs. Arther looked untouchable. Cold. Perfect. Her brain completely short-circuited.

Arther walked up to the microphone. "Good evening," he said.

His deep, raspy voice vibrated through the massive speakers. A physical shiver ran down Katy's spine.

The corners of her mouth twitched. Her facial muscles fought against her control. She wanted to smile. She wanted to scream like the fans outside.

She bit down on the tip of her tongue. Hard. The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth. The pain forced the smile down.

Katy lifted the champagne glass and took a slow sip. The freezing liquid hit her stomach, cooling the heat rushing through her veins.

Isabella, sitting diagonally behind her, leaned forward.

"His tailor needs to be fired," Isabella whispered loudly. "That lapel is tragic."

Katy turned her head slowly. Her eyes were dead.

"Your stylist put you in a dress from two seasons ago, Isabella," Katy said, her voice dripping with ice. "I don't think you should be talking about tragedy."

Isabella's face turned bright red. She snapped her mouth shut and sat back in her chair.

On stage, Arther began a short monologue. His dark eyes scanned the VIP tables.

His gaze swept toward Katy's section.

Panic seized her chest. Katy immediately dropped her head. She reached down and pretended to smooth out an invisible wrinkle on her silver dress.

As she looked down, she noticed a red light blinking in the shadows to her right. A paparazzi camera lens was pointed directly at her face.

Cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. Katy forced her spine straight. She locked her jaw and stared at the stage with the bored, critical expression of a rival actor.

Arther finished his speech. He bowed his head slightly. The room exploded into applause again.

Katy clapped her hands together. Her movements were small, stiff, and completely devoid of emotion.

Arther turned around and walked off the stage, disappearing behind the heavy velvet curtains.

Katy let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

Her silver dress felt heavy and suffocating against her damp skin. She set the full glass of champagne down on the table.

She stood up. She nodded politely to the director sitting next to her.

She grabbed the heavy fabric of her skirt and walked toward the side exit of the ballroom. She needed to get to the backstage dressing rooms.

Her steps looked elegant, but she was walking dangerously fast. She needed to escape the cameras. She needed to breathe.

She pushed through the heavy double doors. They clicked shut behind her, cutting off the noise of the ballroom. Katy leaned against the wall and exhaled a long, shaky breath.

Katy walked down the long, carpeted hallway of the backstage area. Her high heels sank into the thick fabric. She stopped in front of the door with a gold star and her name printed on it.

She reached for the brass handle.

The door to the dressing room right next to hers swung open. Rex Vance stumbled out. He held a half-empty glass of whiskey.

He saw Katy. A greasy smile spread across his face. He whistled loudly and stepped directly into her path.

Katy rolled her eyes. "Move, Rex." She pushed her hand against her door handle.

Rex slammed his palm against the doorframe, blocking her arm. He leaned in close. He smelled like cheap alcohol and expensive cologne.

"I saw the way you were looking at Arther out there," Rex whispered, his voice mocking. "You looked like you wanted to eat him alive."

Katy's heart stopped. Ice water flooded her veins. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot.

She forced her face to remain completely blank. She dug her thumbnail into the side of her index finger.

"Are you hallucinating because your last movie bombed?" Katy asked. Her voice was a flat, sharp blade. "Or do you just obsess over women who are out of your league?"

Rex's smirk vanished. The muscles in his jaw ticked. His eyes turned dark and angry.

"Watch your mouth, Riddle," Rex sneered. "You won't be on top forever. People fall hard in this town."

Katy let out a harsh, dismissive laugh. She raised her hand and slapped his arm away from her doorframe. The smack echoed in the hallway.

"At least I don't have to pour drinks for producers to get screen time," Katy said.

She pushed her door open, stepped inside, and slammed it shut in his face.

She heard Rex curse loudly. Something hit the wall outside. Katy leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the door. She closed her eyes and dragged air into her burning lungs.

Aisling, her makeup artist, stood frozen in the corner of the room.

Katy opened her eyes. The fear was gone. The professional ice queen was back. She walked over to the vanity chair and sat down.

"Get me out of this silver thing," Katy ordered. "Put me in the black velvet. Now."

Aisling rushed forward. She unzipped the silver gown. Katy stepped out of it and pulled the heavy, strapless black velvet dress up her body. The fabric clung to her curves like a second skin.

Katy looked at herself in the bright vanity mirror. She looked untouchable.

"Change the lip," Katy said.

Aisling wiped away the soft pink gloss. She painted Katy's lips a deep, aggressive blood red.

Katy stood up. She smoothed her hands down the velvet skirt. Not a single wrinkle.

She grabbed her black clutch from the table. She took a deep breath, preparing to walk back into the war zone.

Her hand gripped the door handle. Rex's words echoed in her skull. You looked like you wanted to eat him alive.

She ground her teeth together. She couldn't show a single crack in her armor.

Katy yanked the door open and took a massive step out into the hallway.

The lights in the corridor seemed dimmer. A massive wall of black fabric blocked her path.

She couldn't stop her momentum. Katy crashed hard into a solid, unyielding chest.

Her forehead slammed against a hard collarbone. A sharp pain shot through her skull. She let out a soft gasp as the impact sent her stumbling backward.

A strong, heavy hand shot out. Long fingers wrapped tightly around her waist. The grip stopped her fall instantly, pulling her back into the heat of the body she just hit.

The sharp, clean scent of cedarwood filled her lungs.

Katy's breath hitched. She knew that scent.

She slowly tilted her head up.

She stared straight into a pair of dark, bottomless eyes.

Arther Knowles stood there, looking down at her. His hand was still gripping her waist. A tiny, almost invisible smirk played on his lips.

Katy's brain shut down completely. Every wall she had just built shattered into a million pieces.

Katy's body reacted before her brain could process the danger.

She shoved both hands against the hard muscle of Arther's chest and pushed herself backward. She broke his grip on her waist and stumbled a step away.

She locked her knees to stop them from shaking. She forced her spine completely straight.

Arther let his hand fall. He slid both hands into the pockets of his tailored trousers. His movements were slow, relaxed, and entirely too confident.

Katy stared at his chin, refusing to meet his eyes. She dug her thumbnail into her index finger.

"My apologies," Katy said. Her voice was perfectly flat, a textbook Hollywood PR response.

Arther tilted his head slightly to the left. His dark eyes dropped from her eyes down to her blood-red lips. He stared at her mouth for one second too long before looking back up.

"It's fine," Arther said. His voice was low, a physical rumble in the quiet hallway. "Miss Riddle."

The formal name felt like a knife twisting in her stomach. Katy swallowed the lump in her throat. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a fake, polite smile.

Footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway. Two stagehands carrying a ladder turned the corner, walking toward them.

Panic spiked in Katy's chest. She immediately shifted her weight, leaning closer to the wall, creating a massive physical gap between her and her husband.

Arther watched her move away. A dark shadow crossed his eyes.

He took a half-step backward, giving her the center of the hallway. It was a perfectly polite, gentlemanly gesture for the approaching crew members to see.

Katy gave him a stiff nod of gratitude. She took a step forward, desperate to run away.

As she walked past him, the physical distance between them vanished for a fraction of a second.

Arther leaned down. His mouth brushed past her ear.

"The black velvet looks beautiful on you," he whispered.

Katy's feet stopped moving. Heat exploded across her ear and rushed down her neck. Her brain scrambled, desperately searching for a safe response.

She turned her head. She looked him in the eye, her expression completely blank.

"Thank you," Katy said loudly, ensuring the stagehands could hear. "Your performance on stage was very impressive."

Arther raised an eyebrow. He looked bored by her robotic answer.

He took one step forward, instantly destroying the safe distance she had created. He lowered his voice so only she could hear.

"Miss Riddle, you seem to always be avoiding me," Arther said softly, his tone perfectly polite but layered with a probing edge. "Have I done something to offend you?"

Katy's eyes went wide. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

"I am avoiding a scandal," Katy snapped back, her voice shaking slightly. "I don't need the paparazzi writing fake stories."

Arther let out a low, dark laugh. The sound vibrated against Katy's skin.

He stared down at her. His eyes were intense, stripping away all her defenses.

"Is that right?" Arther said softly. "I could have sworn I heard Mr. Vance joking earlier that the way you were looking at me was... rather unique."

The blood drained from Katy's face. Her fingertips went completely numb. The hallway spun.

Did he know? Did he find the Twitter account? Did he see her looking at him?

She dug her nails into her palms to stop her hands from shaking. She forced a cold, mocking laugh out of her throat.

"You are incredibly arrogant," Katy sneered.

Arther didn't flinch. He just looked at her. The intensity in his gaze was suffocating.

The stagehands walked past them, muttering apologies for taking up space. The spell broke.

Arther's face instantly shifted back to the cold, untouchable Best Actor. He gave the crew a polite nod. He turned his back on Katy and walked down the hallway.

Katy stood frozen. She watched his broad shoulders disappear around the corner.

Her legs gave out. She leaned heavily against the wall. She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling her heart trying to beat its way out of her ribcage.

He was just joking. He had to be joking.

Katy smoothed down the velvet skirt. She locked her jaw and walked back toward the ballroom.

She sat down at the VIP table. She picked up a fresh glass of champagne. Her hand shook so violently the liquid spilled over the rim and dripped onto her fingers.

She didn't know that in the shadows of the hallway corner, Arther was still standing there. He watched her walk away, a dark, victorious smile spreading across his face.