Page 20 of Spotlight Hearts

Min-ho leans forward, his voice steady but with that dry edge he gets when he's weighing in. He locks eyes with Harry first, then glances between me and Luca. "Hold up. I get the strategy—fans love the drama. But we're talking real-life fallout here. Homophobic trolls are already in the comments. If we amp this up off-stage, it could get messy for Kai and Luca. You got a plan for that, Harry? Or is this just 'boost the numbers and deal later'?"

Harry waves a hand. "We've got PR on it. Statements ready if needed. But the upside? Massive. Tour sales spiking. Merch flying. Eclipse back on top."

I clench my jaw. The narrative would be easy to lean into—even if my brain's still stuck on Luca's naked body under that steam.

"This is bullshit. I can barely tolerate him on stage. Now you want me laughing at his stupid jokes through a window? Like we're actually...what? Falling for each other? We're already adding tour dates in Europe. This is insane. I don’t think I could be convincing even for the cameras off-stage."

Luca's eyes meet mine—they look darker, those green flecks nowhere to be seen. He holds my gaze a second too long. "Feeling's mutual, Jung. I'd rather eat glass than pretend to like you off-stage. But hey, if Harry's twisting the contract knife, guess we're both screwed. So fall in line like the perfect little bitch you are."

I roll my eyes and lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. He doesn’t deserve a response to that. Fucker. I could say a lot worse about him than that. Like he’s a perpetually late fuck boy—not that I’ve seen him with girls or guys that aren’t his terrible on-and-off girlfriend. If anyone’s a bitch, it’d be her.

Harry claps once, standing. "Good. Glad we're aligned. Tasha's got the first 'outing' scheduled—dinner tonight at a hot spot downtown. Paps tipped off. Keep it light. Touches. Smiles. Sell the 'might be.' Questions?"

Michael shrugs, grinning. "Nah. This'll be fun to watch."

Of course he feels that way, he’s not the one being forced to fake it. Maybe if I were the joking one of the group, I wouldn’t be forced into this by a stupid clause in a contract that I didn’t even pay attention to when signing with the label. Who would? Promotional activities don't exactly scream fake dating your bandmate, and Harry is probably pushing the bit a little far.

Min-ho shakes his head, but there's a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Just don't let it blow up in our faces, guys. We're a band, not a soap opera. But if it helps the music...fine. I've got your backs either way."

Harry nods, satisfied. "That's the spirit. Meeting adjourned."

He sweeps out, Tasha following with a sympathetic glance back.

The room goes quiet. Michael stands first, clapping Luca on the shoulder. "Good luck, fake boyfriends."

Min-ho lingers a second, catching my eye. "You okay with this?"

I force a nod. "Have to be."

He squeezes my arm once—solid, reassuring—then heads out with Michael.

Luca and I are left alone. He pushes to his feet, hands in his pockets, that cocky mask slipping back on. "See you at dinner, sweetheart. Try not to look like you want to kill me."

I roll my eyes. "No promises."

He walks out without another word.

I stay seated, staring at the table, the shower image creeping back in uninvited. Water beading on his skin. That faint stir of interest when he saw me looking.

How am I supposed to fake date someone I can barely stand…when I can’t stop thinking about him naked?

The SUV’s back seat feels very similar to a trap the second the door closes behind us. Tinted windows, leather that feels butter soft beneath my hands, and Luca—too close, thigh brushing mine when the driver pulls away from the curb. The partition’s up. Privacy glass. No escape.

He’s in dark jeans and a fitted black button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the feather tattoo on his lower arm on display, silver chain necklace glinting against his collarbone. Hair still perfect from Crystal’s work earlier, that platinum blond catching the passing streetlights. He smells like cedar and something sharper—cologne he probably slapped on last minute. I hate that I notice.

“Nice ride,” I mutter, staring straight ahead. “Cozy.”

Luca snorts, stretching one arm along the back of the seat so his fingers dangle near my shoulder. “Don’t get excited, Jung. I’m not planning to make out with you in the back of a car for the paps. Yet.”

I turn my head just enough to glare. “Hilarious. Keep your hands to yourself.”

He smirks, letting his fingers brush the back of my neck—light, easy, gone in a second. “Relax. Harry said small touches. Not full-body groping. Though you did stare pretty hard in the shower yesterday, so maybe you’d like that?.”

Heat floods my face. I snap my eyes forward again. “I walked in on you. You were naked. It’s called peripheral vision.”

“Peripheral vision doesn’t usually make someone’s cheeks go that red.” His voice drops, teasing but edged with something darker. “Or make them stand there long enough to get a good look.”

“Fuck off, Luca.”