Diane’s POV

The insistent ticking of the bedside clock pulls me from a restless, shallow sleep. You don't exactly get quality rest when you've been thrown to the media wolves without warning. If it weren't for Jason's low, steady voice last night, promising he'd handle it, my overactive brain would have kept me wide awake until dawn.

I push myself out of bed and pad over to the window, my bare feet silent on the cool floor. I almost scream. A horde of people swarms the entrance of the penthouse—a sea of cameras, microphones, and shouting faces, all pressing against the security gates. Panic shoots through me. Without thinking, I...