“You want me to drop you off at the front, Mr. Powers?” The driver breaks into my thoughts as I look out the window at the large crowd milling around what looks like a gallery.

“Yeah, I’ll text you when we’re ready.” The car pulls over, and a valet runs over and opens the door. Jett steps out, but doesn’t hold out his hand for me. Simply waits for me to slide out. I’m two seconds from leaning over to tell Iain to take me home when I feel it: a light vibration on my clit and up on my G-spot as I dig my nails into the leather seat.

“Raven?”

I grit my teeth and almost slap his hand away, which he now holds out for me to take.

“Just a second,” I snap, closing my eyes. Of course, he’s stopped it as he pockets his phone.

“You okay?” Jett leans in so he can see me. I ignore his handsome face and step out onto Melrose Boulevard. It’s been a trendy street in LA for a long time. When I was in high school, I used to get most of my wardrobe up and down this street.

“What are we doing?” I ask, looking at the paparazzi snapping pictures and screaming at someone as they enter the large, mostly cement building.

“Is that Ammo from the Stuffed Muffins?” Feeling his hand at my lower back, I move forward.

“Where’s your fiancée?”

“Mr. Powers?”

“Smile.” He grins and waves but stays silent. I wasn’t prepared for this. Press? What is he, the king? What if my mom sees us? Jesus, are people gonna know her in there?

“What are we doing?” I hiss, putting my clutch in front of my face.

“You ever hear of Gia Fontaine? This is her collection.”

I turn to look at him. “Gia Granger?” My eyes widen. “As in married to the Rock God?” Because, besides Jett, Granger is fucking hot. I’ve seen the Stuffed Muffins twice in New York.

“Well, she goes by Gia Fontaine with her work, but yes.” His lips twitch as I drop my clutch to really look around. Is he in there?

“Untouched” by the Stuffed Muffins spills out of the speakers as we walk up to the gallery’s glass front door. Beautiful people mill about. Wait, is that a Kardashian inside?

“You can go in, Mr. Powers.” The woman in red flashes him an almost blinding, white-toothed smile, as one of the two suited men, who I assume are security, opens the glass door.

Is this his life? Going from the courtroom to the rich and famous? Of course, it is. Why do I see him on all the tabloids? Oh my God, now I’m going to be on them…