I Belong With . . . (Book 2)

Chapter One / Flashing Lights

“Chris! Chris Rand over here!” Screams for his attention overlapped each other, their words drowning out into gibberish as Chris gripped my arm tightly, holding me to his side as he pushed through the crowd with his head down, avoiding the flashing lights of cameras. 

One guy shoved his lens so close to my face; I was sure I could smell the leather from his hand holder. 

A year in, and I still wasn’t used to all this. My stomach still burst into waves of anxiety, eating me up from the inside every time we stepped out into a crowd like this which now happened to be pretty much every time we stepped out into public. 

The world had gotten used to our engagement but not me. We waited a year before Chis put a ring on it publicly, only for the clashback to be too much. 

Not that it mattered anyway.

“Mr Rand! Please, how are you taking the rumours about your bride to be?” The question had my eyes shooting up from the wet, dirty pavement as if I even had a shot of seeing who asked the question. Did it even matter? Instead, the crowd roared, the flashes almost blinding me as my free hand shot up to cover my eyes before the voice boomed above the exciting bustle of a new photo. “Can you comment on the leaked images-“

The rest of his question drowned out, my mind running a frenzy. Leaked photos?! My heart bashed hard against my chest, my teeth digging into my lip to try and ease the pain from my chest.

What photos?!

The rumours were nothing new. A week after we announced our engagement, all kinds of stories hit the media, pretty much all of them made up or a twisted reality of the truth. It was nothing new at this point, and I can’t lie; it had become slightly entertaining to see what garbage they came up with.

But it still didn’t take the sting away. Or the stress. 

“Mr Rand, can you comment on the reports that you’re quickly becoming unpopular amongst fans?!” He can’t, but I sure would. 

It was a load of f*****g bullshit. Somehow, the world had lost its s**t that Chris Rand was no longer single but due to wed. 

And when I say lost, it’s s**t; I mean LOST ITS s**t. Chris has been in significant repair and recovery mode, but nothing seemed to work. His male fans turned out to be nothing compared to the females, and most of those didn’t care for the game; otherwise, none of this would be happening. 

He took a massive hit, his social media losing almost two million in the space of three months. His games weren’t selling as well, and his nominations were massively down. Contracts were becoming harder and harder to come by, and there was nothing left to do but the obvious. The obvious that he wasn’t willing to accept yet. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t gone public before with girls, but this, this was too far. He was engaged, and the world just f*****g hated me with him. 

And here I thought high school was the problem. 

Chris stood aside as he swung the car door open and practically shoved me inside before throwing himself in and shielding us from the crowd with the black tinted windows as the car pulled from the curb into the bustling traffic of New York. We’d been here a few days for a conference the team had and were due back in London tomorrow.

“You okay, boss?” One of the guards asked, sitting opposite us, his emerald green eyes shielded by a pair of black sunglasses. 

Jeffree had been a new addition, an extra safety precaution with his large frame and broad shoulders. 

“Yeah, just the same trash. How about you?” Chris asked, his accent still thick and dreamy as his brown eyes landed on mine. His hand snuck over to my wrist and slipped into mine as his fingers intertwined themselves against my own. 

I weakly smiled up at him, letting my eyes fall quickly to my lap. “Could be better. It sounds like there’s a new one floating about this week.”

“Ignore it.” He mumbled, bringing my hand up to his tender lips. “We know it’s made up crap.”

Ignore it? You can’t ignore this for much longer. 

But instead of saying it out loud, I shook my head and forced my eyes back towards the window and the passing blurs of light. 

I’d seen more of the world than I ever thought possible this past year, but yet it felt like the only thing I could see was all the ways this was going to go so wrong. 

We’d finally arrived back at the penthouse Chris has leased out for our trip or more like his manager, and he didn’t waste any time pulling me right into his arms the minute the door closed. His lips collapsed down to my shoulder bone, leaving a trail of warm butterflies on my skin down to my collarbone. 

“We should probably find out what new “

“Or we could find your ticklish spot again?” He mumbled into my skin, his hands slowly falling to my hips daringly. I couldn’t help but laugh, grateful for the distraction.

But it still didn’t change that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Chris, what if people find out. . . maybe we should have waited . . . ”

“Look, no matter what it is, it’s exactly the same as the rest. Let’s just enjoy our last day here. And we did wait. We waited about three months,” he added with a chuckle. “And it was three months too long. A year and four months calling you mine, I would have rather had those extra three months too, but I wouldn’t want to wait as long as they think we are. Now, how about we skip dinner tonight and stay in?” 

I knew what this was, I wasn’t a child, but honestly, I loved it. I loved the distractions he used to get my mind off the reporters, but deep down, I knew there’d be a day when the distractions wouldn’t work. But for now, they did, and that’s what matters. 

I nodded back at him until his hands suddenly snatched our phones. “That means no phones.”

“Wait!” I yelled in a panic, “What about Jose? What if he tries to contact you?”

“He’ll get voicemail,” Chris replied, shrugging his shoulders and throwing our phones into one of the kitchen draws. 

Since Chris’s old manager had to quit due to a health issue, Jose had been picked for the job by the club. He was far harsher than the rest and, honestly, a raging asshole, if I’m honest. He certainly wasn’t keen on me, and I can safely say the feeling was mutual. 

Chris didn’t waste any more time. Within minutes he had the large screen in the living room blurring the Netflix logo and a discarded bowl of popcorn on the grey carpeted floor. Somewhere between setting up and sitting down, he’d grabbed both my legs, yanking me down the couch and pinning me against the leather with his chest as his lips captured mine, his tongue eagerly forcing its way into my mouth and battling my own.

I couldn’t help the shivers that ran down my body at the feel of his fingers against me, his cold fingertips pressing against my warm skin under my top. 

A whole year and I was still as obsessed as ever, my legs wrapping around his torso and holding him down against me. I don’t think I’d ever get over how perfectly he seems to mould into me like every curve was made just to fit together like a perfect puzzle. 

I arched my back, my breasts pushing up against him as my hips pressed into his waist, a small groan filling my ears as his teeth hooked into the small space between my neck and shoulder. My whole body erupted into warm shivers racing straight to my navel as his tongue lashed out, leaving a trail of cool air kissing my skin down until the centre of my bra. 

His hand cupped my left breast, his fingers toying with my n****e until it stood rock stiff against the palm of his hand. Satisfied with the reaction, he lowered his lips down his mouth, pressed against the fabric of my top, wetting it and lashing again at my n****e, teasing it as his teeth scraped the sides. 

My fingers tangled themselves harder in his hair, yanking as he tore my shirt open, the buttons trying to protest as his fingers roughly ripped them free. I couldn’t help the moan that escapes my lips the minute I felt his fingers against my bare skin. His hands moved under me to my back, pressing his lips hard against mine again, stifling another moan. Finally, I felt his fingers ease their way down to my jeans, his thumb grazing the top button-

Suddenly Chris had flown off me, the sharp, loud thumps at the front door enough to drive us both jumping into the air. Chris landed on the ground, his back hitting the thick oak legs of the coffee table, a pain-filled groan echoing through the apartment.

“Oh God, Chris,” I muttered, reaching for my top and holding it against my exposed chest. I mean, I didn’t even feel him take my bra off!

The interruption shock had the whole fog dissipating and my lungs trying everything to get enough air back into my body. 

Whoever the hell it was, was persistent, their knocks continuing to invade the next one louder than the last. “Who the hell is it?”

Chris muttered, frowning as he jumped up and raced to the door, taking one last look back at me to make sure I was dressed before opening it. The second the door peeled open just a little, Jose had shoved himself inside, pushing Chris to the side as he shoved the door closed himself. His blue eyes narrowed instantly at me, his thin lips pulling even tighter against his olive tanned skin.

“Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phones?!” He screamed, his outgrown eyebrows bushing together in disapproval as us as he turned on his heel to face Chris. “I’ve been calling you for ages; you think I like calling? That I call for fun, huh?”

He threw his hands out to the sides and marched away towards the large window towering above the rest of New York. “I love spending my time cleaning up your messes, so why not love a nice little chat too. Cause I really fuckingneed to have a heart-to-heart with you.”

He was furious, his face burning red stretching across his bald head as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his dark blue suit. His pale pink shirt lay half-open, exposing curled wires of almost greying hair poking out from his chest. “I’m sorry it-“

“It was my fault. I wanted a night in, and I took Chris’s phone from him for a few hours. I’m really sorry.” I mumbled quickly, cutting Chris off. Things were already tense between them, and right now, he couldn’t afford to lose Jose. He needed someone else in his corner in all this. Besides, Jose already hated me. There wasn’t exactly much else to lose. 

I could feel Chris’s disapproving eyes on me, but I ignored him and let my own flounder to the ground as Jose narrowed in on me again.

Every time the guy looked at me, all I wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. He made me feel like my insides would curl up and die, and I should go with them. The intensity of the hatred was unreal even if he kept it perfectly boiled under the surface. Sometimes I really thought he did in-body exactly how everyone felt about me in one single glare. 

“Of course. You always seem to be the one at the end of trouble.” He mumbled back at me under his breath as he strode across the floor towards me. “Remote now.”

“Oh,” I said, flustered, jumping around my knees and reaching for the abandoned remote at the edge of the sofa. 

With all the nerves, when I turned to pass it to him, I ended up chucking it, the remote slipping from my hands before I noticed and hitting him square in the chest as a look of annoyance warped across his face. 

“I-I’m sorry,” I muttered, looking back down at the ground as Chris’s chuckle filled the tight space between us. 

“You need to loosen up, Jose.”

“Loosen up? You tell me how lose you feel after hearing this.” He groaned, clicking the Tv over to live news. 

Instantly my face covered the screen, and the two words that had pulled at my mind earlier flashed across the screen—leaked Photos. 

“Photos of Fay Griffins, Chris Rands fiancé, has surfaced online in a f******k group page earlier today. The images spread like wildfire but are yet to be confirmed by Miss Griffins or Mr Rand.”

“What? That’s impossible I’ve never-“ the words that were so quickly streaming from my lips came to a complete halt as the world around me spun. It felt like I was suddenly plucked from the earth and was floating in space, my lungs starved of oxygen as my eyes widened at the blurred image floating across the screen. 

Oh my god. 

It was me.

“What do you think, George? Is this a recent photo or-“

“No,” I whispered, sinking down into a ball as the photo stretched across my vision like wrapping paper around a hellish present. I couldn’t help the way my body shook, the embarrassment eating me from the inside as everything burned around me. 

It had been so long ago I had completely forgotten it!

The tv seemed to blur out into nothing, what masked itself as the news but was really a cruel gossip station quickly muted, but in my head, their words had faded the minute that image took the limelight. 

Jose turned to face Chris, mumbling something, and I felt the tears stream down my face as I blinked over at Chris. The ghost of his grin from before fading into a stone-hard expression, his jaw clenching tightly. 

“Is it you?” He asked; his voice sounded like it boomed, but in reality, it was levelled. Far too dropped for him. 

He didn’t look at me, his hands clenching into fists.

I swallowed the pain down, my throat threatening to tighten to the point I couldn’t make a sound, but I forced the words from my lips. “Yes.”

I couldn’t help the sobs that racked through me. I couldn’t look at either of them, every fibre in my being burning to its core, but I heard him scoff as he kicked the couch, swearing at everything as he hurried away from us. Jose tried to stop him but was met with a shift warning and the sound of the front door slamming shut. 

My arms wrapped themselves weakly around my shoulders as I shut my eyes, burring myself as far into the sofa as I could possibly get. How was this happening? My brain was wheeling, and the only thing I could feel was the dirty crawling over my skin. How many people had seen the photos? The whole world?! Was it still accessible? 

Oh, God. 

It had been a while since I felt this low, this disgusting, that the only thing I wanted to do was hold myself underwater until I could wash all this embarrassment away.

I couldn’t stop the tears ripping through me, my chest aching from the pain as Jose muttered something to me and followed behind Chris, leaving me in the empty apartment alone. 

My whole world had just fallen apart, and there was no one here to help pick up the pieces.

I was miles away from Nicky and Zara, and the idea of picking up the phone and calling them felt impossible. I don’t think I could take the look on their faces. I don’t think I can take anyone looking at me again.

I was suddenly so exposed, just floating around the internet for whoever to see. 

Oh, God!

The pain ripped through me again as I let another cry out. The tears felt like they would soon burn my skin off. Good. That’s exactly what I needed right now. 

I don’t know how long I stayed like that, how long I cried for, but when I finally managed to pull myself up from the couch, the sky was pitch black, and Chris was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t returned, and I was still alone. 

The Tv was still on, and now it was another stations turn to report my leaked nudes. 

“I can’t with this,” I whispered, my throat aching from the sobs as I shut the tv off and chucked the remote, leaving myself in complete darkness until I reached for the fumbled around the table for the IPad. 

My fingers touched the cool metal immediately as I slid it towards myself as the screen illuminated the small space around me. 

I couldn’t help myself. 

I guess I was a glutton for punishment.

For a moment, I hesitated, my fingers trembling as I slowly typed into the search engine. It took every last lunch of strength I had to click search, but when I did, there were over ten thousand results concerning me and my body. 

I felt the tears prick my eyes again but held them back as I searched for the culprit. The f******k page was easy to find, and my photos were still the last thing posted. I gasped the minute the page loaded, my photos killing me all over again. I knew what was coming. I knew I would see them, yet it felt like the first time all over again, that knife of shame dug so deep in my gut it felt like I would die. I had to die. 

There were three, the only three I had ever taken. How could I have been so stupid?

My face was clear as day in one; my stupid, naive self couldn’t even do that right. 

“I- How-“ the words came out strangled as my eyes fluttered over to the small profile Icon. I clicked over the creator and felt myself doused in shame again.

Ethan Mconnor. 

It was years ago, and it leads to a solid three months of regrets. We were so young, and I was so stupid, the minute I sent them, I regretted it, and by the next day, he’d told the whole class. But that was different; I never found out if anyone saw them; I just never heard from him again. He went back to ignoring me, and I went back to not existing, so why now?

You know why. The voice in my head whispered. How was this catching up to me now? It happened seven years ago! 

I hadn’t even seen or heard from anyone from that time since that time!

But it didn’t matter. The damage was done. 

I threw the IPad to the ground, my hands curling together against my chest as the tears flowed freely.

Why. . .why leak those? How could anyone do that? What exactly did he gain from that? Money. Probably money.

That thought alone had my skin itching to be clean as I felt my insides turn and grind against one another. My mind so consumed in the misery that was suddenly my life that I didn’t hear the door open or the slow footsteps coming to a pause behind the sofa. 

“F-Fay?” Chris’s slurred voice brought me out from the crumbling, ravage torture of my mind only to see him slumped across the top with a half-drunk bottle of Whiskey in one hand, his lip cut and his eye swollen shut.

“Chris!” I yelped, jumping up and rushing to his side the minute I felt the panic coursing through me. 

My arms wrapped around his side, helping lead him towards the couch and easing him down until the groans of pain came to a slow stop. His head leaned back against the sofa, his eyes closed as a small streak of moonlight shone down on his features from the large glass windows. 

“What happened?” I managed to croak out, feeling my tears prick at my eyes again.

“I- I was-“ his words were broken, not making sense as he struggled to get them out. “Ran i-into a re-reporter-“

“Chris, please tell me you didn’t,” I whispered, my face turning as white as a sheet of paper. That was the last thing he would need. Please, please tell me you controlled yourself, please! 

“W-wasn’t my fault.” he groaned as his eyes shut tighter with the sudden jab of pain as his arm quickly wrapped around his stomach. “He . . . h. . .had it comin’”

The idea of what other hell we would be facing as soon as morning came almost took my breath away. My body felt so drained already but this? This made it worse, and to think we could talk about it . . . clearly . . . talking wasn’t on his list. 

I don’t know what hurt more, him storming out without saying a word or him coming back without caring to say a word about it. Either way, it didn’t matter. The pain that felt like it scorched my insides, the shame that was slowly swallowing me whole didn’t matter because now the chances of his career being over had just hit an all-time high, and I had been the one to cause it.

I pressed my lips flat against each other to try and silence the sob that wanted to tare out of me. I knew I should be more focused on his injuries, but the memory of those photos, the idea of people staring at me through a screen . . .

It was too much.

It took me by storm, and I let the tears burn their way down my cheeks as I tried to ignore all the pain threatening to devour me. Chris still sat silent until the following words opened up hell itself inside me.

“We should’ve w . . . waited,” he whispered, as I stared at him in the dark. 

For the first time since all this started, I felt my chest go numb as I wearily forced my voice from my lips. “What?”

“Like you s-said back home. We should have waited,” he muttered again, his eyes still closed as if he were afraid to look at me. I could feel my mouth turn dry as my stomach clamped down hard, waiting for the part I knew was coming. “We shouldn’t-”

His words cut off as the realisation of what he was about to say hit him.

But it was too late.

Just like it was to turn back.

“Just say it,” I croaked, my voice breaking. “We shouldn’t have gotten married.”