The Maybach slowed to a smooth halt right outside the premiere venue.
Even through the thick, soundproofed glass and tinted windows, the noise was absolutely deafening. Hundreds of screaming fans pressed against the metal barricades, shouting over the relentless, rapid-fire clicking of camera shutters. The red carpet was bathed in a blinding sea of white strobe lights.
Inside the quiet cabin of the limousine, Zoe took a deep breath, clutching her silver evening bag like it was a flotation device.
"If I trip," Zoe whispered, staring wide-eyed at the madness waiting outside. "Just leave me on the carpet. Do not try to help me up. Just tell the press I died doing what I loved."
Aria laughed, reaching over to squeeze Zoe's hand. "You aren't going to trip. You look AMAZING! We've got this."
The driver hopped out and opened the rear door. The roar of the crowd spilled into the car instantly, hitting them like a physical wave.
Damien stepped out first.
