by Ruby Rowe
A flash goes off in my face. “Ms. Lane,” a cameraman says, “will Oliver Harvey be joining you inside tonight?”
“Oliver who?” Flashing a sly smile, I continue to the door with two bodyguards at my side; Frank will stay close while Kellen keeps watch from the sidelines.
The room is all abuzz as we enter the club. I spot the gold fountain of champagne and hear the voices of arrogance as they challenge the decibels of the jazz music.
I wonder if I’m the only one who is over this song and dance of pleasantries to get ahead. Shit, what’s wrong with me? I feel cynical, lost and unsettled. What do I need that I don’t already possess?
Caught off guard by my bubbling emotions, I swallow them down and conjure up the sweetheart smile the world expects to see from me.
Like he’s reading my anxious mind, a server approaches with a tray of champagne flutes. Frank hovers, worried the young man could be a threat, so I shoot him a look to back off. My safety might be in question these days, but I doubt whoever is stalking me is disguised as this waiter.
No, I think the person who’s after me has a more elaborate plan than wanting to off me in public. The deranged letters tell a tale much sicker and drawn out.
“Ava, you look stunning,” Sydney says to me.
“Thank you, sweet pea.” I exchange kisses on the cheek with my young actress friend who sidled up to me in the first movie we starred in together. I was cast as her older sister, and I’ve become a surrogate sibling to her.
She’s adorable and clever, so I continuously bury my irritation over how several major film roles have gone to her instead of me. I prefer when she’s riding my coattails, like in this film where she has the supporting role alongside me. “How’s the entertainment so far?” I ask.
“Let’s see... Rumor has it Jeanie Jones already flashed a boob. She’s such a slut.” Jeanie is Sydney’s arch nemesis. They’re both twenty-five and always vying for acting gigs. They’re parts neither of them would’ve secured when I was a few years younger. Those roles would’ve gone to me.
“Oh, and Mark and Eli have been taking selfies and tweeting as usual. Nothing too over-the-top.”
She eyes Frank, and a smile curves from her plump-with-silicone lips.
“How’s it hangin’, Frank? Catch any stalkers lately?”
“Good evening, Ms. Sinclaire.” His pleasantry is all she gets as his eyes scan for possible threats. Sydney’s three inches shorter than my five-feet-seven frame, so I lean down to her ear.
“Leave the man alone,” I whisper. Syd prefers older men, so she loves to flirt with him. She can never get a rise out of Frank, though, which makes him a challenge for her to conquer. She’ll be disappointed once she learns of his parting.
It’s frustrating having a bodyguard at my side, especially at parties, but it’s imperative right now. I receive a threatening letter or package at least once a week.
Of course, I hear about this through the grapevine. Frank and my security team inspect every piece of mail before it’s delivered to me.
I’m just waiting for one of the guys to lose an arm from an explosive device planted by my stalker. The packages are getting that scary.
The last box he sent contained a small bottle with a poison skull design on the front. Security took a photo to show me, and it gave me chills.
It didn’t help that the letter enclosed spoke of us dying minutes apart like in Romeo and Juliet. For that reason, we’re calling him Romeo.
If I’m ever suspicious of someone, I’m to say the word Romeo, which signals to Frank that I’m in trouble. I’ve only had to do it once, when a fan followed me around a clothing boutique. Frank was trying to give me space since I was in the lingerie department.
The man hovered nearby as I looked at panties. I called out Romeo, and my bodyguard tackled him. I had to pay out a settlement for the guy’s broken nose. He ended up being a paparazzi we weren’t familiar with.
“Close your legs; Mickey is headed our way,” Sydney mutters before she sweeps a stray strand of her strawberry-blond hair back into her updo.
Shit. Mickey’s my serial ex, who came long before my most recent ex, Oliver. Mick’s the man who can still make my pelvis clench after all these years, but to this day, we’re like oil and water. When we weren’t having sex, we were plotting each other’s demise. It was that damn volatile.
“Ava, you look lovely this evening,” he says as he slips an arm around my waist and pulls me close. Frank isn’t going to intervene unless I motion for him to since he knows Mickey and I have a long history.
“Mick, how are you?”
“Good.” He looks to Syd. “Hello, Ms. Sinclaire.”
“Good evening, Mr. DeLuca. When are you going to cut the formal shit? You know I’m not a lady.”
I bump her shoulder. “No, he doesn’t know that, and the public doesn’t, either, so behave yourself.”
Smirking, she takes a sip of her martini.
“Your father is somewhere in this room,” Mickey says as he glances around and holds up his glass of booze. His espresso-brown hair is haphazardly styled, yet it’s sexy as always.
We began dating when I was eighteen, soon after he became my father’s consigliere, or right-hand man, you could call it.
When I was twenty-six, I moved to Hollywood, and we continued our relationship long distance, until eight years ago, when he, my father and my ill mother moved to LA after rumors of looming indictments.
You’d think finally being with Mickey full-time would’ve made our relationship stronger, but instead, it provided more opportunities to fight and for me to witness his infidelity.
“I’m not surprised you know his whereabouts before me.” He narrows his sandy brown eyes on mine, but his mouth quirks into a smile, giving away his lightheartedness. The man’s so damn attractive, especially for forty-seven. If only he’d loved me enough to behave.
“Oh, come on. Let’s play nice this evening.” Leaning farther into my personal space, he whispers in my ear, “We can play even nicer later tonight if you’re game.”
I notice how he used the word game. Knowing him, he has a wager with someone as to whether or not he can get me into bed tonight.
“I have other plans.” I pull away from him.
“That’s not what I’ve been seeing on the television.”
“Since when do you believe everything you see on TV? Just because I’m not with Oliver doesn’t mean I have no life.”
Actually, my personal life is a wasteland, but I’m certainly not bowing down to him because of it.
“Fair enough.” He tilts his glass toward me. “One of these days, you’ll want to reminisce.”
“Possibly … when I’m bored, but until then, I better mingle.”
“Damn, I love your smart mouth.”
“Bye, Mickey.” Walking away, I take one last glimpse of him over my shoulder, wishing things could be different. Much like my father, he’s a gambler and womanizer.
Bets and prostitutes get their dicks hard. My father can predict the outcome of a horse race better than a jockey, and he and Mickey often travel together to races.
My ex also wanted to marry me and start a family, and that was a hell no. I wasn’t raising kids with a man who squandered money and stuck his cock where it didn’t belong, and most importantly, I wasn’t bearing a child with a mobster.
Unfortunately, I’m reminded often that Mickey is the best lay I’ve ever had since I see him regularly. He happens to be a producer, mostly thanks to me and my connections.
Spotting my distinguished father across the room, I decide to get our greeting over with. I push through the crowd while watching him laugh with two other men.
His hair has receded greatly over the last year, and what’s left is much greyer, but overall, LA’s been good for his health.
Although it’s nearly unheard of for a mobster to leave his home turf, it was the smartest decision he ever made; a move that kept him out of prison.
Victor, who’s my father’s underboss and my sister’s boyfriend, took over the reins of our mafia family in New York.
“Daddy, how are you?”
“I’m good, baby doll.” My father kisses my forehead. I give the two men beside him a smile before they disperse.
“I assume Mickey invited you.”
“Yes, but I came to celebrate your accomplishment.” I wish I could believe him, but I’m second in line at best.
“How’s Mother?”
“Weak today, so I told her to stay home.” This is another delusion of my father’s. He’s always left my mother at home. It’s not only now while her multiple sclerosis is getting the best of her. That’s just his convenient excuse.
“I’ll call her before I turn in. Enjoy the party.”
“Bye, sweetheart.”
Giving a faint kiss to his cheek, I leave him be. That’s all the elbow-rubbing I can handle tonight. I’m tired and eager to begin the brief staycation I’m taking.
“Frank, please call Harold to bring the car around. I’m ready to go home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I exchange a few words and nods with my famous peers as I make my way to the exit. Overall, I guess my life is one that most people could only dream of having, but it still lacks luster.
It’s missing something and probably because it’s mostly pretend. I act out characters who aren’t like me and often spend time with people I don’t care to see. I wear a fake smile, even on the worst of days, because a camera is always in my face.
Since leaving the mob life in New York years ago, I’ve only been known in LA as the wholesome famous actress, Ava Lane. I’m a woman who behaves, but I’m ready for something exciting. I plan to push my limits and discover the woman Ava (Lane) Leoni truly is.
CHAPTER THREE
Ava
My young housekeeper, Janelle, informs me that Mr. Scott is here for his interview, so I take the stairs to the first floor and walk out to where she seated him on the veranda.
Noticing my presence, Mr. Scott stands, and when our eyes meet, my mouth falls open. Realizing my reaction, I snap it shut and clear my throat.
I’m used to seeing starstruck expressions when people meet me, but by far, this is the other way around. This man is undeniably attractive.
“Hi, I’m Ava Lane.”
“Griffin Scott. Thank you for meeting with me.” His light blue eyes are locked with mine, his gaze serious. As I step closer in my heels, I get a better look at him.
With his buzzed raven hair, crooked nose, and a small scar above the right side of his thin lips, he reminds me of the mafia goons my father employed, yet this man is gorgeous, his edgy features only making him sexier.
I clear my dry throat again. “Please, have a seat.” Gesturing toward his chair, I sit across from him at a round glass table. My thin linen slacks and cream blouse are suddenly too warm for me. “Would you like something to drink?” I notice that Janelle left me a glass of water with a twist of lime.
“No, ma’am.”
“Oh, please don’t call me that. Ava is fine.”
“My apologies, but with all due respect, I’m not comfortable addressing you by your first name. Will Ms. Lane work?”
I smirk. “Sure, and let’s get right to it. You came highly recommended by Frank, and I reviewed the resume you sent over. If you’re going to be with me most hours of the day, I’d prefer to learn more about the man, Griffin Scott, than your work experience.”
I give him a warm smile, but his lips remain in a straight line. Geez, and I thought Frank was serious.
“I’m thirty. Not married. No children. I can be at your service any hour of the day or night. I’m a former Navy SEAL, and I work out and train in martial arts regularly. I also have a concealed carry permit. I keep my skills sharp.”
“Would you be opposed to staying on my property in those guest quarters while on duty?” I point to the smaller home sitting behind my pool. It’s comprised of two apartments, one in the front and one in the rear.
“That’s not a problem.”
“I’m dealing with an unsettling situation, so I’d prefer that my primary guard stay close by. Did Frank tell you about it?”
“No, he said he would give me the pertinent details if I was offered the position.”
“Of course. He’s discreet, and I need to know that everything we discuss today will be kept confidential.”
“Absolutely. I can sign a non-disclosure agreement if it would ease your mind.”
“That’s not necessary. You know Frank, and that’s as good as any signed document.” Sitting back in my chair, I cross my legs and look out over the property. “For the past two years, I’ve had a stalker we nicknamed Romeo.
“I’m an obsession to this man, and over the past six months, the stalking has progressed to downright alarming.” I look back at Mr. Scott.
“He sends at least one disturbing package a week, and he recently made serious threats to my safety, but nothing has been traceable. I have a private detective working on the case, and I’ve increased the number of men on my security team.
“Speaking of which, you’d oversee the staff and their schedules. I saw on your resume that you have experience supervising. Would that be an issue?”
“Not at all. With my last principal, I managed a team of six, and at least two traveled with us always. The group provided security at the residence, as well.”
“That’s what I need; however, my team is larger right now since we’re tightening security here at my estate.”
“That’s no problem.”
“Bottom line is that I need someone who can ensure I’m safe at every turn, on and off my property.”
“I’m an extremely focused individual, one not easily distracted. I’m aware of my surroundings at all times, so unless you want someone near you, they won’t be.”
I swallow from the intense look he gives me. He’s no-nonsense and confident. His attitude’s not cocky, only matter-of-fact.
“Is there anything you would like to know about me?”
“I’m looking for a more reserved client. I know you have to be in the public eye, but I’d prefer to guard someone who will not make a spectacle of themselves. Do you feel that’s you?”
“My recent breakup has been in the news, but the attention is beginning to die down. Unlike what the paparazzi portray, I live a dull life.”
“That’s a shame.”
“What is?”
“That you find your life dull.” His eyes close, lips purse, and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry. That was unprofessional of me.”
I shrug. “You have a right to your opinion. I honestly view your job as boring. Frank is often standing around for hours on end in places I’m sure he’d rather not be.”
“If a bodyguard is doing their job correctly, there’s no time for boredom. We’re on alert at every moment, watching for idiots or psychos. Most of the time, I find my career exciting.”
I study him intently. “Hmm … I thought you were looking for low-key, but our talk tells me you’re more of a thrill-seeker.”
“Only in my personal life.”
His gaze is piercing as he shifts in his seat and glides a hand along the side of his jet-colored hair. This man is intriguing. Why does he have to be so much younger?
Instead of hiring him, I’d tell him to put those firm muscles to use by fucking me right on this table. I can see the shape of his biceps beneath his black suit. Everything about him is a turn-on, so I shift in my chair, as well.
“Um, you would have every other weekend off and one day during the week. The other guards would fill in then.
“I also have an assistant, Holly. She would give you my detailed schedule, but it changes frequently, and I need to know you can roll with the changes.”
“I’m familiar with the fluctuating schedule of a celebrity.”
“I figured so.” I sit up in my chair. “The last thing I want to do during my time off is
conduct interviews. You seem perfect for the job, so I’d like to make you an offer. How soon could you start if you accept the position?”
After we discuss his salary, Mr. Scott accepts the job. Over the next couple of weeks, Frank will be moving out of the guest quarters, and Griffin will be moving in.
“Oh, one other thing…” Rubbing the condensation on my glass, I stare at it and think of the best way to broach this subject.
“Do you know my real last name?”
“Yes. Leoni.”
“So, you’re aware that my father is Teddy Leoni.”
“Correct.”
“Well, I don’t condone what I’m about to say, but it’s a fact. My father has high expectations for my safety and would be less forgiving than others if something were to happen to me.”
It makes me sick that I must give Griffin this disclaimer, but it’s the truth, and someone willing to protect me should fully understand the risk. If I’m killed, I won’t be here to persuade my father not to act on his grief and anger.
“I’ll guard you the same way I would any other principal–with my life.”
Shit, this man is hot.
“That’s reassuring to hear.” I stand, so he follows suit, and instead of bending me over the table, like I’m fantasizing, he sticks his hand out to shake mine.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Lane. I look forward to working with you.”
“The feeling’s mutual. Holly will be in touch to work out the details.”
“Thank you.” After I show him out, I shut the door and lean back against it. His handsome face and superb body gave me the rush of excitement I’ve been missing.
Sex with Mickey was the closest I ever came to feeling satisfied, but it wasn’t spine-tingling or taboo enough for me.
I sense that Mr. Scott has many talents, so it’s a shame he’s ten years younger and my soon-to-be employee. He may not be easily distracted, but I’m going to be every time he’s near.
CHAPTER FOUR
Three Weeks Later
Ava
“Damn, look at him,” Sydney says to me.