Page 7 of Spotlight Hearts

Harry Vox sweeps in like he owns the building—which, technically, he does. Suit crisp, phone in hand, expression somewhere between bored and predatory. Tasha straightens immediately. The rest of us pause mid-step.

“Gentlemen,” Harry says, voice clipped. “A word.”

He doesn’t wait for agreement. He just gestures toward the wings—meaning me and Luca specifically.

We follow him offstage, Tasha trailing behind like a reluctant referee. The moment we’re out of earshot of the others, Harry stops, turns, and pins us both with that flat, calculating stare.

“Last night’s press was good. Viral. Numbers are up already. But it’s not enough.”

I feel Luca shift beside me—probably fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

Harry continues like he doesn’t notice. “The fans want more. They’re eating up Kuca. We need to give them something they can’t look away from. Ramp it up on stage. Make it hotter. Make it undeniable.”

I cross my arms. “We’re already doing the eye contact, the mic sharing, the freeze-frames⁠—”

“Not enough,” Harry cuts in. “We’re talking throat holds. One of you pinning the other against a speaker stack or the backdrop. Push-pull tension. And I’ve got something special from the choreographer—Luca unwraps a sucker, holds the stem between his teeth. Kai leans in, takes the candy into his mouth. Slowly sucks it. Eyes locked. The crowd will lose their minds.”

My stomach twists. Heat crawls up my neck, and not the good kind.

Luca lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly,” Harry says. “It’s suggestive. It’s erotic without crossing the line. It’s exactly what sells. We’re not asking you to fuck on stage—we’re asking you to sell the fantasy. And you’re both good at selling.”

I scoff before I can stop myself. Loud. Sharp.

Luca’s head snaps toward me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” I say, but my voice is tight. “Just…fucking perfect. Another layer of performance to layer on top of the performance.”

Luca’s jaw ticks. “You think this is funny? You think I’m thrilled about you sucking on a piece of candy while you stare at me like I’m dirt?”

“I didn’t say⁠—”

“You didn’t have to. That scoff said it all.” He steps closer, voice dropping. “You act like I’m the one who enjoys this shit. Like I’m the one begging for more camera time with you.”

Harry raises a hand. “Enough. You both signed the contract. It explicitly says fan service is on the table. This is fan service.”

Tasha steps between us, palms up. “Hey. Both of you. Breathe. This isn’t personal. It’s business. We all want the same thing—Eclipse back on top. The fans love the tension between you two. Let’s lean into it. Keep it controlled. Professional.”

I force a quiet exhale through my nose. She’s right. She’s always right about this stuff.

Luca’s still glaring at me, hazel eyes narrowed. “You in or not, Jung?”

I meet his stare. Hold it. “Fine. I’ll do it. For the band.”

Harry claps once, satisfied. “Good. Choreographer’s already reworked the bridge on ‘Midnight Nova’ and the closer. You two start practicing now. Tasha will run you through the beats. No half-assing it.”

He turns on his heel and walks off as though the conversation’s over.

Tasha sighs, rubs her temple. “You heard him. Let’s get back out there.”

Luca doesn’t move right away. He’s still looking at me—something stormy behind the casual mask.

I break eye contact first. Turn toward the stage.

He falls into step beside me, voice low so only I can hear. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it look good. Wouldn’t want to ruin your perfect little image.”

I don’t answer.