Page 32 of Brown Sugar

I whip around and set off at a fast stride, scanning every inch of the place for any sign of her.

She wouldn’t wander off alone. She wouldn’t leave when she knows she’s supposed to be accompanied by security at all times. Did one of the crew intercept her? One of the managers from the British branch of the label?

My mind’s full of a dozen different possibilities as I scour the studio.

I’m back where I was, coming up on the TV set where Kiana’s interview had been conducted. The interviewer’s still hovering around in the middle of chatting with her assistant. I don’t give a shit about interrupting.

“Kiana!” I yell at the woman. “Where is she?”

She eyes me like she’s offended by my gruff tone, then says, “Kiana said she had somewhere to be. She walked out the side door there.”

“What?!” I bark, my temper snapping free. “Fuck!”

I break out into a run, grabbing my phone to call up the rest of the security team.

What the hell would possess her to wander off by herself?

12

TYSON

An hour passes before the team and I locate Kiana.

Every one of the sixty minutes feels like fucking torture as the possibility I’ve lost my asset keeps me on edge. I’m a rude asshole bulldozing my way down narrow side streets in the heart of London and shouldering people in any crowds out of my way.

But I don’t give a damn when Kiana’s missing and we’re in a foreign country. I’m finally able to locate her when one of the guys on my team hacks into her phone and retrieves her location.

I find her at the railing of the Westminster Bridge, cold air blowing her hair back and her eyes puffy from crying.

Bystanders recognize her too. Several pause and snap photos as if they’re not witnessing a celebrity having a hard time.

The second I’m approaching, they scatter like ants. A good decision on their part. I’ve got no problem squashing them like bugs.

“Princess,” I growl. “What the fuck did you think you were doing wandering off?”

“I knew you’d find me. I left my location setting on for a reason,” she mumbles in answer.

“Then what the fuck were you?—”

“I needed a moment alone. Is that against the law?” she asks, looking up at me. The whites of her eyes have pinkened, proving what I thought is true.

Shehasbeen crying.

She gives off a lone, sardonic laugh. “I couldn’t even have that. People recognized me and started coming up for photos and autographs.”

“Princess…” I trail off, detecting the pain in her voice. Then I steel myself, hardening at the realization now is not the place.

We’re out in public. I can’t go getting distracted.

As fucked up as the situation with her ex is, her safety’s my priority. Not her emotional well-being.

That comes later.

“You want to… go somewhere?” I ask. “Being out in the open on this bridge isn’t a good idea. Too many people have noticed you. The tabloids won’t be far behind. That’s not even taking into consideration the person after you.”

“Just… please take me back to the hotel.”

I nod, then curl an arm around her to guide her at my side.