THE kiss lingered between them, even after they pulled away. It wasn’t just the warmth of his lips or the quiet gasp she let out against his mouth—it was the feel of his hand still pressed firmly at the small of her back, grounding her as the world around them blurred into white noise.

They didn’t acknowledge the stares or the cacophony of camera flashes that followed. Cyrus simply took her hand, his grip tight, purposeful, and led her through the crowd, straight toward the VIP section of the ballroom.

The section was cordoned off with velvet ropes and guarded by two stern-looking security men in black. As Cyrus and...