"I love that you barely know anything about me, but I can't pretend that part of my life doesn't exist." Teddy gestured towards a gate, and I stepped through it.

A journey that should have been forty-five minutes had taken us over two hours because Mark had noticed someone following us. We'd made a dash to swap cars during a momentary loss of our pursuer, and when they caught up with us again, they followed the original car—not us.

I didn't think it would ever be possible for Teddy Stone to pretend that part of his life didn't exist when he couldn't drive from A to B without a significant detour.

His family's home formed module one on my crash course. My face must have revealed my inner panic when he'd first mentioned going there because he was quick to reassure me that nobody would be in.

"Your story is hardly one of rags to riches, then," I said without thinking, craning my neck to take in the large stone building situated in a very affluent area of Surrey. I could almost hear Becca and Gabby in my head, criticising my lack of tact.

Rather than taking it as an insult, Teddy seemed amused—like he did with every offensive thing I accidentally said.

"Depends on what you class as rags to riches. My family were comfortable, yes. But the money I have now? Nobody in this town has that much in their bank account."

He pushed open the door, its hinges creaking and echoing around the hallway.

"I'm not going to give you the grand tour. We don't have time." He paused, as if waiting for me to make another comment on the size of the house. I didn't bite. "I'll just show you my room."

I followed him up the staircase, my eyes scanning the photos hanging from the wall. A family of four, it seemed. If you didn't know what he did for a living, they would look like a very normal family who enjoyed beach holidays abroad, cultural trips to famous British landmarks, and cosy Christmasses by the fireplace.

"Glad to see you're taking a more subtle approach to getting me in your bed," I said as we reached a small landing and continued up another flight of stairs.

"Didn't realise I wasn't being subtle before."

"You weren't."

"Noted. But don't get too excited. It's only a single, and my tastes in the bedroom require something larger."

That shut me up. With a body and face like his, accompanied by his celebrity status, he'd probably had plenty of practice perfecting his technique and discovering his tastes. I'd been with enough people to know what did and didn't work for me, a long-term relationship significantly contributing towards that, but my mind still wandered there: with his wealth of experience, could he introduce me to something new?

Then I remembered why I was here in the first place, in this house, learning about his lifestyle: Becca. And I pushed away the dirty thoughts, guilt replacing them.

At my silence, Teddy shot me a grin over his shoulder. "That's me not being subtle, by the way."

"Noted."

Chuckling, he reached for the first door at the top of the stairs, pushing it open then gesturing for me to step inside.

The room could have belonged to any teenage boy. A single bed pushed up against the back wall. Posters of bands covering the dark wallpaper. A TV sitting on the chest of drawers. A desk littered with textbooks, pens, and notepads.

I picked up the top book: A-Level Physics.

"Got a younger sibling who uses this now?" I asked.

"No. I have a younger sister, but she has her own room. My A-Level exams were the last thing I did before my career took off. Mum made me stay in school for them. She thought the music thing would pass and didn't want me to gamble my education away on something that might not turn into anything."

"It's nice she's kept your room the same. Mine got turned into a guest room as soon as I left for uni. I think that was my dad's way of saying I needed to take uni seriously and make something of my life rather than sponging off his."

Teddy smiled. "And did you?"

"Yeah. Moved in with Gabby and Becca after graduating. Home's a bit complicated, anyway." I waved a hand behind my head. "Story for another day."

"Mum refused to redecorate my room because she wants to keep me grounded and humble, so I remember where I came from."

I wondered what his mum would think of the way he'd treated Becca, of the way his lifestyle had probably enabled him to do that, despite her best efforts to keep him down-to-earth.

"You obviously do remember that, otherwise you wouldn't have brought me here," I said.

"Exactly, which brings me back to my first fact: this is where my career started. In this very room. I'd record myself singing or playing, and I'd post them on YouTube. I was just a small fish in a big pond for a long time until someone noticed me and wanted to collaborate on some covers."

"Someone famous?"

He shrugged. "They didn't have a record deal or anything, but they had a big following on YouTube, so I saw the opportunity and grabbed it. Skipped school one day and went to London instead—didn't tell Mum, obviously. We recorded the covers, she posted them, and boom. It blew up."

"Just like you'd hoped?"

Teddy smiled and somehow managed to look modest about it. "In my wildest dreams, yes."

"What happened then?" I sat down on the edge of his bed, stretching my legs out in front of me.

"Lots. It's a blur. The deal, the first recording, the media storm..."

"Media storm?"

"Well, the girl who I'd collaborated with didn't get a deal. She was bitter about it. But her calling me out only made me more famous. By that point, I had a great PR team who handled it well."

Maybe I hadn't gone far enough back with my research on Teddy, or maybe his team were so great that they'd buried the beef. I rose from the bed and wandered over to the window, peering down at the gravelled driveway lined with leafy trees.

"How long have you had Mark?" I asked.

"From the beginning. He's a good guy with a good team around him. I trust him, even if you're not as keen."

"My opinion doesn't matter, does it? You're the one he's protecting. Not me."

Teddy raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you think? That detour we took today was for you."

"Me? Was it not to stop them following you to your family's home?"

"Oh, they know where they live, Soph. They've known for years. But if they'd followed us here, you'd be all over the internet tomorrow. Fictional stories about you, nasty comments, nice comments... It's intense. I don't want to scare you off so soon."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to work out his angle and not flinching even when he held my gaze. Teddy knew I wasn't a fan of his, but that didn't necessarily mean I wasn't a fame-hungry, opportunistic gold-digger. Had he considered that? Or did he suspect that, and he was keeping me away from it, seeing how long I stuck around with no media attention?

Perhaps I was giving the guy too much credit and he didn't have a game plan like I did. My own goals were clouding my judgment, assuming everyone had an ulterior motive.

Teddy arched an eyebrow at me, sliding his hands into his jeans' pockets. "Keep looking at me like that and I'll start to wish I did have a double bed in here."

*

After a whistle-stop tour of his recording studio—which mostly consisted of Teddy telling me not to touch anything—the driver dropped us off down a suspicious-looking alleyway.

"Is this the part where I find out today has been one big ploy and you're actually a serial killer?"

"Yes," he said. "Why else would the people who love Teddy Stone far outnumber those who don't?"

My eyes drifted down as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a card, which he then tapped against a security box next to a rundown entrance.

"You coming?" He glanced back at me, one hand holding open the door to reveal a plain corridor, and I stepped inside.

Before I could determine anything else about the building, Teddy's hand came to rest on my lower back and guided me towards a lift. He tapped his card again, and the doors separated.

"I hope you're concentrating," he said, stepping into the metal box and pulling another card from his pocket.

That one he pressed against a sensor in the lift before keying in a code. Six digits. Had fours and twos in there. The doors closed, and we started moving.

"Feel like you're in a James Bond film yet?" Teddy leaned against the railing and slid his hands into his pockets.

"No. Should I?" I raised an eyebrow at him, but he just rolled his eyes and smiled.

Just as my head began to feel woozy from the altitude, the lift eased to a halt, and Teddy tapped in another series of numbers. Different ones. No fours or twos this time.

The doors slid apart to reveal another entrance with a scanner. Teddy applied his finger to the glass.

"I get your James Bond joke," I said. "Although you're not settling my serial killer concerns. The police could never get up here."

The scanner turned green with a soft ping, but Teddy didn't reach for the handle. Instead, he turned to face me, one arm stretching out to steady himself against the wall beside my head.

As he leaned closer, his solid bicep grazed my shoulder, that intoxicating aftershave drugging my brain until I could focus on nothing but the sharp angles of his chiselled jaw, and his full lips, slightly damp, just a couple of inches away.

"If you really thought I was a serial killer, your eyes would show more fear. They wouldn't be looking at me like... this."

***

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