by Harper Sloan
My attention goes right back to Chance, my eyes meeting his. "My man?" I repeat. I ignore the tingle of awareness that crawls up my spine when I get a clear up-close-and-personal view of this man. Now that I'm not distracted with being in his arms, that is. Jesus, when he focuses completely on me, it feels like I'm the only woman left in the world and he's gone without sex for decades.
He takes an audible breath, and I know he feels the same thing I do zapping and zinging between us.
This feeling, whatever is happening between us, is the only thing I've ever felt that might be more powerful than the rush I had earlier before going on stage.
"I knew he would lose his shit, but I didn't think he would call her out on not having a relationship. He knows that's a bunch of shit," Jamison, I think, says, but my eyes and attention are still locked on Chance.
"Still, they've been playing that card for years now. We're lucky that Chance caught that the other day when he was questioning us on our contract and any demands the label has on us, or we would've been shit out of luck." Weston's voice gets closer, and I reluctantly look over at him. He's not paying attention to me, though. Instead, he's grabbing some of the snack foods that the venue had left out for us, completely relaxed like he doesn't have a care in the world.
They continue to talk--Wes, Luke, and Jamison--ignoring me completely. I stand there for a few minutes, waiting for them to tell me what the fuck is going on, but they don't give an inch. Chance shifts on his feet, drawing my attention, and my eyes must give away the panic that I'm feeling with each second that the guys ignore me because he clears his throat. The sound holds my attention but also gains theirs; something I'm sure was intentional.
"There's a clause in your contract that prohibits any non-label approved security from being hired. When I noticed it, I had your brother make a formal request to hire and pay for an extra team of personal security for you during the next two months while you finish up the rest of your obligations to the current contract. However, they declined to approve Weston's request, and because of that clause, there isn't any way we can come in that capacity now." Chance's voice is calm and steady while he talks, and I feel some of the tension falling from my shoulders. He takes another breath before continuing. "Since their refusal would have kept me from being hired officially as your personal protection, we all talked it over and decided I would play the part of your boyfriend instead. Until we can get the contract renegotiated and reworked to add more details about security with your new one, this is our only option. The other men on my team are on standby for when the negotiations end with Brighthouse, but if we don't get our way with security for some reason, we agreed that you're the number one priority here, and the boyfriend ruse will work if that turns out to be the case."
"Boyfriend?" I gasp in shock.
"That's me," he rumbles, still calm as fucking can be.
"What. The. Fuck?"
I look around; meeting the eyes of the guys I love more than life before meeting the still very serious ones of Chance. That mask of indifference might still be locked in, but if I'm not mistaken, a flash of pure panic just crossed over his features.
Honestly, I'm not sure if that little flash thrills or terrifies me.
Well, what the fuck, indeed.
This plan is going to blow up in my face.
The thought crosses my mind the second that Wren stomps out of the room, slamming the door in her anger.
"She seems ... happy," Jamison comments after the echo of her anger dissipates.
To say she took the news of our new couple status well would be an understatement. I get it, I do. When I signed up for this job, the last thing I expected was to end up playing house. When they hired me, I meant what I said about my focus being solely on her safety. I also meant what I said about not taking this further, and I know this new little twist is going to make that promise hard to keep.
With her being a celebrity, eyes will constantly be on us. In order for our relationship to be believable, I have to play the part night and day. It isn't just the concern about what this lie will mean for my attraction to her, but also the thought of letting someone get that close to me. Letting my guard down in order to be someone who the world sees as head over heels for Wren is what makes me feel like I'm losing my control over the whole situation.
I have a pretty good feeling I'm fucked here because no matter how I look at this situation, I'm not sure I can do this believably and still maintain my distance. If I had been able to come in as her guard only, well, that would have been a whole lot easier. I could have done that and never fucking spoken a word to her.
"She'll get over it." Weston butts into my racing thoughts, his concerned focus still on the door his sister all but ran out of moments before.
"You're sure there isn't another way?"
I look over at Luke. "If there had been we would have worked that angle instead of blindsiding her with this one. Would have been easier on her, you all, and me."
He holds his hands up. "Look, man, I didn't mean to question your call here. I just ... look, I just know how Wren is. She's going to feel caged in, even more so than normal, and she's already having a hard enough time as it is."
"Hard enough time with what?"
"All of this," Jamison answers my question, waving his hand through the air in front of him. "Let's just say, things are different than what we thought they would be when we first signed. I don't think any of us expected to have the kind of fame and notoriety that make us feel like we are fish on display. Wren has a hard time dealing with all the negatives that come with our lives now. I think it would be easier, something she could live with easier, if they would stop refusing to give us some vacation break time."
I make a mental note to look into that more but don't ask Jamison to elaborate.
"Plus, she doesn't think it's a big deal enough to have beefed up security at all, but we all agreed that it needed to happen. You haven't seen how crazy it can get sometimes. Men want her, and women are jealous of her. She deals with a lot more of that bullshit than we do because she is, essentially, the face of Loaded Replay. This all might be for nothing, but I can't ignore my gut feeling, telling me we need to take these little incidences more seriously." Weston sighs when he finishes, and it's obvious that he hates to upset his sister.
"I agree with you. Even though the Atlanta Police handled the death threat, proving that it was nothing more than a joke by some stupid teens on a dare, I don't think you can brush off the photographs from inside the hotel rooms. Not when it was while we were staying in a large, well-known hotel. I could get someone not used to dealing with celebrities fucking up, but that hotel wouldn't have handed out access to your floor, so that is my focus. Did you say there was a note?" I look around the room, leaving my question open for any one of them to answer.
Weston's face gets red, and I know he doesn't like to think about this--the fact that, right under his nose, someone got close enough to his sister to take pictures, let alone the rest of the bullshit that followed.
"Yeah." He pauses, and his face gets harder. "Look, she doesn't know everything about that situation, though. I left out the note when I told her about the pictures. And she hasn't even seen the photographs, so she doesn't realize how much was actually seen. She isn't aware that they took her shit either. She had it hanging in the bathroom, so when she asked about it, I brushed it off to her as housekeeping must have moved it. I didn't want to freak her out. Hell, I still don't want to, but now, I'm not sure if it was wise to keep everything from her."
I make a noise but don't comment. It was stupid as fuck not to tell her, but it isn't my job to act like his fucking parent.
"While it might not be my place, I don't think that was wise. Not when it comes to her safety. It makes a lot more sense to me now, though, that she would be able to brush everything off so easily." God, what a mess. I want to say so much more, but I push down my odd sense of anger before continuing. "And? What did the note say?"
<
br /> Weston's eyes flash with ire as he reaches behind his back to pull his phone out. "That next time they won't be hiding in the shadows and to leave Loaded Replay before it's too late," he answers while messing around with the screen of his phone before handing it to me.
I scroll through the album he had opened on his phone's photo app. Having already been told about the note, I study it briefly before moving on. The photographs left beside the note of Wren sleeping in her bed catch my attention instantly, and I try my best not to notice the fact that she is naked in them. That the sheet just barely covers her body at all. However, no matter how hard I try, I don't miss the fact that only a muted shadow from where her leg is hiked up hides her pussy.
"Are there any ex-boyfriends who we should be worried about? Bad breakups from before you got famous?" I hand the phone back and meet each of the guys' eyes, willing my cock not to react to the pictures I just saw.
Jamison laughs. "She had a few somewhat serious guys back home before we signed, but seeing as they either dumped or cheated on her--not the other way around--I would say none of them are feeling scorned by her."
"Just because they cheated doesn't mean they don't feel wronged," I add. "They might see her now as the successful megastar she is and feel like they were slighted by not being a part of that life."
"Nah, man," Jamison continues confidently. "Let's see, there's Derek, currently an insurance salesman out in Utah; he's married with a bunch of kids, last I heard. Happily married and from what I understand, he still talks to Wren from time to time. They were friends before they thought it would be a good idea to date. He meets his current wife while Wren was out on the road, and the rest is history. There isn't anything with him, guarantee."
"What about Paul?" Luke asks Weston, and my eyes move from Jamison to Weston briefly before opening the notes app on my phone and starting a list.
"Died in a motorcycle accident two years ago," he responds.
"Harry?" Luke continues to question. I add the name to my list.
"Took over his parents' gas station. Married to Tori Scott and she's pregnant with baby number one," Jamison says. "Tori is good friends with my sister," he adds when I raise a brow for him to continue.
"Okay, well, what about Sam?" I add the name after Luke asks, waiting for one of the others to elaborate before I look up.
"Sam married the man that he cheated on me with," a small voice comes from behind me, causing me to snap my head around to see one hell of a pissed-off Wren. "They're waiting for their adoption paperwork to get approved, last I heard from him, which was a year ago or so when they came out to the show in Atlanta. I would guess they're now proud parents, but I can call him and check on that for you since you seem very concerned about my ex-boyfriends. Any more questions or can we stop pointing out the fact that I apparently can't keep a man happy?"
"Wren," Weston starts, pushing off from the wall where he had been leaning.
"Save it. You and I"--she points between the two of them-- "we don't keep secrets. I might not believe this is something worth freaking out about, but you know I would have handled all this behind my back shit a lot better had you kept me in the loop. All you had to do was tell me! But you kept that all to yourself and I would have understood--and been on board with--all this 'new security is needed' bullshit had you done that." She turns her attention to me now; the harshness in her face does nothing to diminish her beauty. "I would appreciate it if you would come to me in the future if you would like to know more about my life."
I nod but don't speak.
"You do realize that the media is going to get wind of this relationship charade, right?"
I nod again. It wouldn't do any good to patronize her by pointing out that I'm very capable of seeing the big picture in our situation. I also wouldn't have jumped into this new role without mapping out every possible direction it could take us. I learned the hard way what happens when you don't prepare for everything, and that won't happen ever again.
"They're going to dig into your life. Pull anything from your past that can be used against you. Harass your friends, your family, your second-grade teacher. They won't stop until something else gossip-worthy pops up, and even then, they won't stop for long. They never leave us alone. So, Chance, are you sure you're ready for that?"
I raise my brow. "I'm not worried about anything in my past." Even as the words leave my mouth, I recognize them for the lie they are.
I'm not worried about the people I'm close to back in Hope Town. My employment with Corps Security is the only thing attached to my name there, and just the thought of some media witch-hunt showing up is laughable. Not only will they not even get in the door, but also no one there is stupid enough to talk. They would be lucky to get an eye twitch from any of the men who work there.
Even my old apartment was never under my name, not even the last year I lived there before moving out. We never switched it over when my best friend and former roommate, Cohen, moved out to start his new married life. We kept the apartment but only for a year after he moved out. Since I'm rarely home, it's easier for me to live out of a suitcase than to buy a house I'll never see. Which helps in times like this, seeing as I have so little attached to my name. The rest of my close friends either work at Corps Security with me, are related to someone who works there, or are married to someone who is one of the two.
Even if the media were to branch off from Corps Security and question some of the surrounding businesses, the only one who would know about me is Sway's Salon next door. Everyone in there is just as untouchable as the men who make up Corps Security--some of them being wives or daughters of my colleagues. If that wasn't enough, though, the very flamboyant gay man who owns the place could easily scare them off--but even on the off chance that he welcomed them inside and promised them makeovers, the staff is so used to cameras being shoved in their faces, they wouldn't even blink. Not since they've filmed a reality show there for the last three years.
As for my family, well ... nobody is left, so no problems there.
But I'm not worried about the group I left behind as fast as I could when I heard about this assignment.
Nope, not them.
I might not be worried about my past touching me, but just thinking about getting close to someone new--that is what concerns me.
"You sure about that?" Wren asks, one hand going to her slim hip, her attitude coming off in waves.
I nod, pushing back the bitterness that always fills me when I think about the last person that I ever let close enough to hurt me.
She narrows her eyes. "You have no problem using your words for them," she snaps, pointing at the three men in the room with us, "but when I ask you something, you act like you're a mute."
"When I have something worth saying, you'll know it."
I should have kept that to myself. I realized that the instant the words left my mouth, but something about seeing the fire being lit inside her makes me want to push her buttons--to see what happens when she is provoked--and to watch the color rise on her skin. I instantly wonder if she would blush like that all over her body when she was aroused too.
"So ..."
Her eyes flash to Jamison's when his playful tone breaks our staring contest. "Shut your mouth, Jami!" His hands go up in surrender, and he takes a step back from her.
"If you have any doubt in your mind about what those vultures might pull out of your past, you should tell us now. I might not be happy about this situation, but if it's something these guys think is necessary, I'll do it for them. That being said, I'll be damned if I'll let something from your past blindside me and end up making me look like a fool."
"Seriously, Wren, give the guy a break."
Her brother's words get the heat of her gaze off me. I briefly wonder if this would be a whole lot easier to get her on board with if she knew everything about the last hotel room incident, but her brother gave me strict orders to keep the details of the pictures and items taken to myself. I agreed, but
I didn't agree without letting him know I wouldn't keep it to myself if I felt like it was pertinent for her to know.
"No, Wes! I give them everything, but they haven't gotten my pride yet. If we're going to do this, it's going to believable. If they find out this is all a ruse, then poof, there goes that pride! Let me tell you something; if he really was mine, I would know everything, and that includes who his second-grade teacher was. They wouldn't be able to hurt me if anything were to pop up because, guess what, I would already know about it and be prepared!" She takes a harsh breath. Her whole body seems to vibrate with her anger. "You forgot someone too, Wes. When you guys were having fun ticking off all the men who I have had in my life, you forgot about Garrett. Remember him? The one who used you to get to me and then used me to get his leg in the door. The one who is now enjoying his own solo music career?" I look from her over at Weston to see him flinch. "Well, I didn't forget him. He was just another person on the long list of them who doesn't see me as anything else but a way in, a paycheck, or whatever the fuck. I'm sick of being used. I'm sick of the press and their lies. And I'm sick of acting like it doesn't bother me."
With all of us silent, she doesn't even hesitate to continue, her voice still hard and unforgiving. "I'll ask you again, Chance. Is there anything in your past that can be used against me? If so, I want to know now."
Momentarily taken aback by her outburst, I shake my head, earning another heated look from her.
"Well ... isn't that just as clear as mud, my mute boyfriend? Ready or not, it's time to head to the airport, so maybe you can use the time on the ride over there to figure out if I should know anything about you since what I currently do know is zilch. Aside from the fact that you apparently don't talk."
Fuck.
I should put my foot down and show her who is in charge here, but when she starts stomping around the room to collect all their personal shit, all I can think about is how hot it is to see her fired up and how screwed I am.
Keeping the divide between us--not getting too close to her--is going to be a challenge in and of itself because right now, all I want to do is bend her over, strip those tight as hell leggings off her, and fuck her until we both can't move.