Chapter 2 THE FIRST MISTAKE

"I don't care who he is. If he screws this up, I'll throw him out myself."

Behind her bedroom door, Emily froze. With her heart thumping so loudly that she could hardly hear anything else, she pressed her ear closer to the wood. The hallway was sliced like a blade by Mason's icy, piercing voice. He didn't sound upset. It felt worse somehow that he sounded deadly calm. In response, Mr Edward muttered something. It's too quiet to make out. Then there was quiet. Footsteps retreated a moment later. Emily's door creaked open just as she was about to retreat.

It was Luke.

Quiet, gentle-eyed, and somewhat obscure, he entered silently. He extended a glass of water. "You should drink this," he said. "Earlier, you appeared pale." She gave a silent nod and shakily accepted the glass. For a moment, Luke looked at her, his face unreadable. After a moment, he said, "You'll be fine. Mason doesn't bite, even when he behaves like a monster."

Emily nearly burst out laughing, but instead she wheezed. "He almost bit Mr Edward ."

Luke smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. "That's different. He likes chewing on managers."

"I think he hates me."

Luke turned to face the door and remarked, "He doesn't hate you. He simply doesn't believe in you." Then, almost too softly, "You could surprise him."

He left before she could find out what he meant.

The next day was a bizarre welcome party. In a room full of the biggest names in America,

Emily stood beneath a sparkling crystal chandelier while disguised in Ethan's sleek black blazer.

The champagne glasses, the floor, and the hosts' excessively whitened teeth were all sparkling. Mr Edward murmured, "Relax, Just smile, nod and whatever you do, don't open your mouth too wide."

That was easier said than done.

People were observing her everywhere she went. Some people were interested. Some doubtful. One bearded man gazed as if he could see right through her clothing and into her heart. Then, together, Zero Saints showed up. In fact, the audience gasped. Ever composed and camera-friendly, Luke waved amiably. Jackson winked at everyone he passed while wearing a suit lined with leopard print. As if he owned gravity, Mason strode into the room. Sharper scowl, sharper suit. He was so beautiful that even Emily had to acknowledge it.

And terrifying.

He didn't look at her once.

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An hour later, she found herself hiding behind a decorative pillar, clutching a glass of... juice?

She hoped it was juice.

Her head was spinning, her blazer was itchy, and her fake mustache (courtesy of stage makeup) kept trying to slide off. And worse-people were starting to get too friendly.

A woman in a silver gown had just asked her if she wanted to "collab" sometime.

Another woman in her forties had asked for her phone number. Twice.

She ducked her head lower and tried to pretend she was a sculpture.

Then Jackson appeared, plopping down beside her with a plate full of shrimp. "Ethan, you okay? You look like you're waiting to be executed."

"I'm fine," she whispered hoarsely.

"You always talk like you swallowed a cactus."

"I'm being mysterious."

"You're being weird."

She sighed and took a sip of her drink.

Something fizzy.

Something... definitely not juice.

But it was sweet, and she needed the courage.

She took another sip.

Then another.

The lights got a little blurrier.

Jackson was still talking, something about how he trained a parrot to sing their theme song, when Mason appeared like a thundercloud in a tux.

He barely looked at her. "What are you drinking?"

She blinked up at him. "Apple juice."

He took the glass, sniffed it.

His expression darkened instantly. "This is champagne."

Her eyes widened.

"Oh," she said slowly. "That explains... the bubbles."

"Did you drink the whole-"

And that was when it happened.

Emily doubled over, covered her mouth, and projectile vomited over Mason's spotless, custom-tailored shoes.

The room froze.

So did her soul.

Mason looked down at the mess. His jaw clenched. One eye twitched.

Everyone was staring now-cameras, staff, fans.

Jackson dropped his shrimp.

Mr Edward gasped somewhere behind a wall.

Emily, in a panic, bowed deeply. "I'm so-hic!-sorry!"

Mason said nothing.

He just turned, dripping shoes and all, and walked out of the room like a god returning to his underworld-leaving a trail of horror behind him.

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The silence in the dorms was unbearable. Emily held a moist towel to her red face as she sat on the edge of her bed. Instead, she had changed clothes, washed her hands six times, and contemplated going to Tibet to become a monk. The door opened with a creak. She leaped. Dry and angry, Mason entered.

He remained silent for a while. "Do you think this is a joke?" he asked sharply.

"No," she muttered.

"You humiliated me in front of everyone."

"I didn't mean to-"

"You're clumsy, weak and completely out of place."

Her head snapped up. Her throat dried.

Their eyes locked.

Just three words.

"One more mistake."