His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 70

Eventually, people started packing up. Mason walked over, sweat finally drying, hair a mess, face flushed.

“I’m stealing her back now,” he told Brian.

Brian winked.

“Be nice.”

Back at the hotel, I kicked off my boots and collapsed into the bed. My ears still rang the echo of screams and bass. My heart, however, pulsed with something different.

Excitement? Confusion? Something I didn’t want to name.

My phone buzzed.

Sophia.

I unlocked it expecting a meme or another tabloid headline.

Instead, it was a photo.

Liam.

with

Shirtless by a pool, head tilted back, face void of expression. No smile. No sun in his eyes. Just… empty.

Sophia’s message followed:

Sophia: He’s off today. Not seeing anyone. Looks like someone’s carrying more than just work stress.

I stared at the image longer than I should have. My fingers hovered over the screen, unsure what to say or feel.

He looked like the version of Liam that only I knew existed. The one who needed no words. Who’d carry everything silently, until it broke him.

And for the first time since I got here, the line between both worlds blurred.

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Chapter 70

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Part of me wanted to stay–soak up the thrill of the tour, the music, the freedom.

But another part? It kept tugging at me. Back to Liam. Back to the mess I left behind.

I didn’t know which part of me to listen to.

Because one felt like escape…

And the other felt like unfinished business.

Something had to give. And I wasn’t sure what it should be.

Getting any real sleep felt impossible after everything.

Even though the hotel room was quiet and the bed ridiculously soft, I couldn’t shake the whisper of Liam’s photo still haunting my phone.

When I finally opened my eyes, late morning light spilled in through the heavy curtains. I stayed in bed a while, letting the silence wrap around me. For the first time in days, I didn’t reach for my phone right away.

But I couldn’t avoid it forever.

When I unlocked it, social media was still buzzing. More photos. More fan edits. The nickname Mystery Girl trending in at least two hashtags. A few new blog headlines too:

“Who Is Mason Jacob’s VIP Guest?”

“From Nobody to Front Row: Emily Sparks Speculation”

A knock sounded at the door.

“Emily?” Brian’s voice called.

I sat up, startled. “Yeah?”

“You decent? We’re heading out. Thought I’d steal you for a few hours. Sightseeing. Chicago’s best distraction, promise.”

I hesitated, then stood. Maybe I needed a distraction.

Brian took me to Navy Pier first. He talked nonstop, about deep–dish pizza, how he and

17:36

Chapter 70

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Mason once got lost biking around the city, the worst soundcheck Mason ever had. I laughed at all the right places, but my mind was only half there.

Eventually, we sat on a bench facing Lake Michigan, munching on caramel popcorn from a street vendor.

He glanced sideways at me. “You’re quiet.”

“Just tired,” I said.

He didn’t buy it. “Tired doesn’t come with that look in your eyes.”

I said nothing.

Brian shrugged. “You don’t owe me your life story. But sometimes, running toward something fun is really just running from something else. Just… don’t forget to deal with the thing you’re running from.”

I turned to him, surprised. “That… was actually really insightful.”

He smirked. “Don’t tell Mason. He still thinks I peaked in college.”

Back at the venue that night, the energy was even more intense than the first show. Mason’s

up hours team buzzed with nerves and excitement. Fans were already chanting outside, lined early.

As I stepped into the backstage area, I heard someone yell, “Is that Emily?!”

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