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I’m not sure if I should feel flattered that Henry has asked me to accompany him tonight, but I do anyway. I don’t mind letting myself pretend just for a few days that someone as good as Henry would be with me.

He doesn’t even realize it, but he’s one of the most talked about heartthrobs in the country right now, thanks to the docuseries going viral.

It’s weird to know someone so removed from culture and the internet. I’m sure he’s never even watched an episode of the show.

Honestly, I’d love to spend less time disappearing into social media, but lately it’s been my only escape.

“Henry,” people shout as they make their way up to him. I can tell by his reaction that each time this happens it is completely unwelcome. Some of the people even ask for his autograph. And of course, he doesn’t recognize a single person here.

Our production company has a few shows on major networks now, and this party is a way to have them all meet each other. I’ve never been invited to one, but I’ve heard the higher-ups talking about how the social media posting from these types of events yields results that are completely worth the cost of the affair.

Henry looks particularly exasperated as a young star named Laney from a yachting show asks for a selfie.

“What the hell is that?” Henry sounds offended as he looks over at me. I am nearby, chatting up Gracelyn, a cast member from another show I worked on this year, when I catch his eye.

Laney gives Henry a curious look, and deciding he’s joking, she pats his arm. “You’re too funny.”

She holds up her phone and sticks out her tongue as they take a photo. Henry scowls but still manages to look hot doing it.

“Have you met my girlfriend, Chloe?” he asks, waving me urgently over.

“One minute,” I say to Gracelyn as I make my way to him.

“Hi, Laney,” I say quietly.

“You’re his girlfriend?” she asks, eyebrows shooting up to her forehead. I happen to know a lot more about Laney than I’d like to, since I filmed one of the first seasons of the show, which meant following her around with a camera while she slept with half the crew_and some of the guests_on the boat.

“Of course, she is,” Henry says defensively, wrapping an arm around my waist. His fingers land in the little curve in my side and wow, that spot is sensitive. I feel sparks shooting through my body, just like earlier today when he grabbed onto me on the surfboard. If I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder what has gotten into him.

“Wow. Good for you, Chlo.” Laney gives me a fake smile.

“I’m the lucky one.” Henry leans down to kiss me on the cheek. I try my best to look completely natural instead of utterly shocked at the searing heat of his pillowy lips.

Just then, the song changes and Henry squeezes my side. “Babe, this is our song.” He turns to Laney. “Excuse me. I need to dance with my woman now.”

We step onto the dance floor, and we wrap our arms around each other. “Our song is ‘Cotton-Eyed Joe’?” I ask curiously.

Henry cracks a big smile. It’s the first time I’ve really seen him smile this unabashedly. “How do we even dance to this?”

I laugh. “No idea. Maybe we slow dance to it?” I suggest.

Henry chuckles and rocks us side to side, completely offbeat. “How’s this?”

“Perfectly horrible. Everyone’s looking at us.”

“They’re probably looking at how gorgeous you look,” he whispers in my ear, and the softness of his breath tickles me. A most pleasant shiver runs down my spine.

“If you say that too many times, I might just start believing you,” I admit.

“Then I should say it more. Chloe, you are a gorgeous woman. Any man would be lucky to be with you.”

It feels like my breath has been sucked right out of my lungs. Even if he means it, I know it doesn’t mean he likes me or anything. I have to remind myself of that reality, so I don’t get lost in him.

After a few more dances, we agree that he’s made enough of an appearance to head out for the night. He drives me back to my place and walks me up the stairs.

As we reach the landing, my stomach sours, my pulse beating hard in my ears.

My apartment door is ajar, ever so slightly.

Henry pulls me back, wraps me in his arms, and holds a finger to his lips as he looks around the small landing space. Then he steps in front of me protectively and slowly pushes the door open. It’s a studio apartment, so there’s only a closet and bathroom door to check, but he walks inside like he’s on a covert mission.

When he decides it’s secure, he closes and locks the front door.

“There was nothing wrong with the downstairs door. It was locked,” I say, getting a bad feeling.

“You sure you closed it all the way when you left?” he questions.

“Definitely.” I nod. “I distinctly remember because I pinched my thumb with my key ring.” I raise my hand to show him the little red mark as evidence.

Henry’s eyes swim with darkness. “You think it could have been Rob, your neighbor?”

I nod, swallowing a golf-ball-sized lump in my throat.

“Is this something you did?” he asks then, nodding to the kitchen table.

It had completely skipped my notice when we walked in, but there is a single red rose on the table, with all the petals plucked off and set around the stem neatly.

“What the hell is that?” I gasp at the sight.

The whole act tells me the person who broke in took their time. Like they want me to know they feel comfortable and unrushed in here.

Henry inspects it. “You sure you don’t have a jealous ex-boyfriend or something?”

I shake my head. “I told you earlier I have never dated anyone. I mean, I’ve been on a few crappy dates, but none of them know where I live.”

His arms fold over his chest as he frowns. “This is creepy as hell. We need to call the police.”

I shake my head. “It’s late. They’ll take forever to get to this part of town, if they come at all.”

“You’re probably right. Take a picture with your phone of that little art project to send to them later. You can report it in the morning. But I don’t want you staying here.”

The protective way he says this shouldn’t go straight to my heart, but it does. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Come back with me.” He takes a step closer to me.

My brain scratches like a needle being dragged off a record. “Your hotel?”

He nods. “You stayed with me before. It’ll be just like that.”

I think on it for a few moments. I do feel violated knowing someone has rifled through my stuff. Truthfully, I don’t want to stay here.