The event’s talent flow manager was giving her last minute instructions, but Dara couldn’t concentrate. She just met Kim Jaejoong thirty minutes ago and her heartbeat hadn’t calmed down one bit. She was as nervous as that time she’d stepped onto the stage for the audition of Born to Be a Star and that was three world tours and five albums ago!

 

 

 

       Jaejoong was standing next to her, listening, as well. She didn’t want to look at him again, but she couldn’t seem to calm herself. Her confidence was slipping fast, unheard of after commanding stadiums b to the rafters with Daralings fans for years now.

 

 

 

       “So, one more time, guys,” the manager was saying but his voice sounded so distant, like he was speaking from the end of a tunnel. “You guys will walk together toward the podium. Recite your spiels. Jaejoong will read the nominees. Dara will announce the winner. You can do a bit of ad lib if you want. Dara is a reg here so she knows the drill. I know this is your first time, Jaejoong, but I trust you.”

 

 

 

       “Okay,” Jaejoong simply said.

 

 

 

       “Dara?” the manager looked at her pointedly.

 

 

 

       “Y-yup, Tony, got it,” she mumbled.

 

 

 

       Tony clapped his hands and addressed the backstage crew. “Alright! We’re all set! Ten minutes and we’re live worldwide!”

 

 

 

       The production people scrambled to do their places.

 

 

 

       She felt Jaejoong touch her arm again. She literally jumped out of his reach. He looked amused. “Shall we go to our seats?”

 

 

 

       “Seats?” she parroted like an idiot.

 

 

 

       “Yeah. We should watch the show. Our part still happens at the end, remember?”

 

 

 

       “Oh. Uh, yes.”

 

 

 

       He held her hand and she fought not to flinch as a bolt of electric awareness blasted through her again, spreading fast and wild all over her body, pooling where she was already too sensitive and aching. ! Not good. Not good!

 

 

 

       “Shall we?”

 

 

 

       She just nodded, discreetly inhaling and exhaling amid the wild beating of her heart.

 

 

 

       A talent seating coordinator assisted them from the backstage toward their seats on the second row right in front of the wide stage.

 

 

 

       Jaejoong didn’t let go of her hand until they were seated. She sat stiffly, her tight dress impeding her breathing she wanted to gulp air into her lungs like a fish out of water. What the hell was happening to her?! Was this a panic attack?

 

 

 

       “Relax,” she heard him say beside her.

 

 

 

       She resented the amusement in his tone. She hated it that he could sense her nerves. She was not the jittery type. Her oozing confidence on and off the stage had brought her to high places like the White House and the Buckingham Palace. She even met Vladimir Putin once when she had a concert in Russia. Kim Jaejoong was merely an actor, though a notable one, but she was more famous than him and certainly a lot wealthier, yet he was turning her into a nervous wreck. God forbid she’ll forget her lines later!

 

 

 

       “The cameras are rolling now. We’re live worldwide,” he reminded her.

 

 

 

       She dared to look in his eyes and got lost in their depths again. A man shouldn’t have eyes a girl would envy. And he shouldn’t smell so good a girl would want to bury her nose in his neck and breathe there forever.

 

 

 

       He winked at her. “We got this, Jaedara.”

 

 

 

       She looked away.

 

 

 

       Oh God. No. This cannot be. He’s not the right one for this job. He’ll ruin it!

 

 

 

       Nah, more likely it’s you who’ll ruin it.

 

 

 

       She’ll talk to her PR team tomorrow.

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