His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 69

Chapter 69

298 Vouchers

I hadn’t expected the atmosphere to affect me this much. My stomach fluttered as we pulled up to the venue, a sleek black SUV whisking Olivia and me through the private entrance. The crowd outside screamed the moment they caught a glimpse of us behind the tinted glass. I was invisible compared to Mason, but somehow, I still felt exposed.

His stylist had chosen my outfit hours earlier–a pair of sleek black jeans, a vintage band tee tucked in just enough, and a cropped leather jacket that made me look cooler than I felt. Olivia barely spoke during the drive. Her silence was more tolerable than her snide remarks, so I didn’t push it.

We stepped through the side entrance, guided by Mason’s tour assistant, and were led to a VIP section not far from the stage. It was just elevated enough to have a perfect view, yet close enough to feel every vibration of the bass deep in my chest.

The lights dimmed.

The air thickened with anticipation.

Then, everything exploded.

Lights shot from the stage. The first note echoed, and the entire arena went unglued.

Mason rose from the platform in the middle of the stage like a god ascending through smoke and color. The way the crowd erupted, it was deafening. But he soaked it in with practiced ease, like he was born for this.

And maybe he was.

Song after song poured from him like a fire being released. He danced, nailed every note, teased the audience with half–smiles and head tilts. His energy lit up the room. Every move choreographed, every breath timed, but somehow, it still felt real.

I stood there, rooted. Not just by the sound or the lights, but by him.

This was Mason in his element–commanding, electric, impossible to look away from.

Midway through his set, the music slowed. Mason paused, catching his breath, sweat glistening across his forehead. He walked to the edge of the stage, mic still in hand.

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Chapter 69

288 Vouchers

“I need to take a second,” he said, his voice low and clear. “I want to thank the real ones–my team, my crew, the fans who’ve been here since the garage days, and every single person who makes this possible. This tour means the world to me. So do you.”

The crowd screamed.

A beat of silence.

Then, from somewhere in the crowd, maybe near the barricades, came a shout that sliced clean through the noise.

“MYSTERY GIRL!”

It echoed.

A ripple of laughter and cheers followed. Suddenly, my face flashed briefly on the big screen. I blinked, mid–laugh, and there I was, caught like a deer in headlights.

Oh God.

I could feel my face heating up.

Mason turned slightly, his eyes scanning until they landed on me. Just for a moment. And then, with the faintest smirk, he turned back to the audience and launched into the next song.

Smooth save.

I ducked my head, trying to disappear into the leather seat beneath me, but it was too late. People were already whispering, pointing, phones lifted.

Just ride the wave, Emily.

After the show, one of the crew members found me.

“Mason wants you backstage,” she said, holding out a lanyard. “There’s someone he wants you to meet.

Backstage was a different world. Controlled chaos. Dancers stretching, water bottles being tossed, people shouting time calls, camera flashes snapping for behind–the–scenes reels. Mason stood near a table, towel around his neck, gulping water between hugs and congratulations.

And beside him, a guy who looked vaguely familiar, but softer around the edges–messy curls, kind eyes, a laid–back vibe that stood in contrast to the post–concert rush.

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Chapter 69

“Emily,” Mason called out, waving me over, “meet my older brother, Brian.”

Brian extended his hand dramatically.

“So you’re the infamous plus–one everyone’s whispering about.”

I laughed, shaking it. “Infamous sounds… intense.”

“Fair warning, we Jacob boys come with high drama, sold–out shows, and awkward childhood stories waiting to be spilled.”

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