“Well,” I tease, snuggling close to ward off a chill while he leads me up the lighted stone walkway toward a colossal beachfront mansion. “Don’t you worry, hotshot. I’ll make sure the fame doesn’t go to your big head.”

“How do you know it hasn’t already? We haven’t exactly spent much time together over the last couple of years.” His tone is playful, but my answer is anything but. His actions today were not those of a guy with an overinflated ego. In fact, they were the complete opposite.

“You just sacrificed your own freedom to save me from myself.” I gulp, trying not to become overly emotional again. Since we got the bad news, I’ve been living on the edge… and not the exciting variety. I’m one push away from a complete mental breakdown. “You kept a promise made between children. One you easily could have let slide. All so I could have my daddy walk me down the aisle before he passes. If that’s not selfless, Lyle Livingston, I don’t know what is.”

Never one easily accepting of praise, he’s quick to put a nefarious spin on the situation, but the gravel in his tone is all the assurance I need to know my words didn’t fall on deaf ears.

“Or, maybe I took advantage of a shitty situation to get what I’ve always wanted.” He punches a code into the door then knocks his hip into it to push it open, before quirking a brow my way. “Have you thought of that possibility, Jailbait?”

“And what you’ve always wanted…” I ask, batting my fake lashes fast enough to take flight. “Would that be li’l ol’ me?”

He shakes his head to himself, biting back a smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Always was when it came to you.” I brush against his chest deliberately as I slip past him into the foyer, admiring the double winding staircases to both my left and right.

He flips a switch near the door, bathing the room in a soft white light. The place is immaculate and expensively decorated, even by my standards. White and gray marble tile as far as the eye can see gives way to what appears to be the living room. I arrive at this assessment based on the white leather couches and stone fireplace now clearly in view.

“Whose place is this?”

“All of ours,” he says. The clang of his keys dropping into the shell-shaped bowl on the console table echoes through the open space. “Belongs to the band.”

“Impressive…” I say, trailing a finger along the curled end of the banister.

“So, you, uhh…want me to give you a quick tour?” Tall, tan, and sexy combs a hand through his hair while looking up at me from beneath his hooded lashes.