by Anna Brooks
“Yeah, you did.” He smirks.
I throw the covers off and rush to the bathroom. “I’ll be quick. I know we’re running late.”
After I close the door, I lean against it and put a hand on my chest. It’s getting harder and harder to be around him because my feelings keep getting… stronger. Yeah, he’s hot—don’t think I’ve ever seen a bodyguard from his company who isn’t—but I feel like he genuinely cares about me. And I haven’t had that in a really, really long time.
The last person who cared about me that way was my mom, and every single time I look at my aunt, I wonder how the two of them could be related.
Wesley has been a godsend; he’s been more than I could have ever hoped for. I’d seen him around before on tours and promo runs, but he was never assigned to me. He was part of a team that traveled with a different singer, so I never actually talked to him one on one. We’ve been through so many security companies because Gail manages to piss them all off at some point. Nobody ever lasted too long.
After she refused to hire guards for the house after the guy attacked me, I finally took over my security. It took me a while with weeks of nightmares and paranoia, but I finally did it. And it turns out, that was the best decision I’ve made in my entire life.
I went behind her back and called Erik Anderson, the owner of Royal Ace Security. Anytime I’d seen how they worked in the past, they were always great. Until we leave for the tour, it’s just Wesley with me in the house for now. Other guys are outside the house, but they’ll stay here, and more Royal guys will join us for the tour, which I’m so grateful for.
I haven’t ever had the excited jitters with anybody before, but when Wes is near—which is all the time now—I find myself short of breath. Which is not good for me since he’ll be around when I’m on stage.
It’s not lost on me that a crazy man is after me but pushing the fear aside and letting Wes worry about my safety has been liberating. It’s only been a couple of months since the attack, and though I wanted to get back to work I was conflicted because he wasn’t caught, but my aunt gave me that look. The one that says she’ll use what she has on me to hurt me even more if I don’t jump as high as she says.
There’s a feeling deep in my gut, though, that Wes won’t let anything happen to me. I haven’t felt safe in a long time, and I have him to thank for that.
We’re already going to be cutting it close time-wise, so I hop in the shower and wash in record time. Wrapping a towel around my body and tucking it in at my chest, I head back to the bedroom because I forgot to grab clothes when I hopped out of my bed.
Wes is leaning on the wall, and when I step onto the carpeted floor, his eyes trail up my body until they reach my face. He watches as a bead of water falls from my hair and lands on my shoulder, sliding down my collarbone and then between my breasts. I feel more heat from his eyes than I do the steam trailing out after me.
I jump when he clears his throat. “I’ll let you get dressed.”
And then before I can even say anything, he’s gone. But I want him to stay even though I know I shouldn’t.
* * *
“Good, Quinn. Chin down. Tilt. Just a little to the right. There!” Charles snaps pictures so rapidly I can’t even count them. “Beautiful. Yes.”
I focus on his lens even though my eyes keep trying to find Wesley’s. Ever since I got out of the shower this afternoon, he’s been more distant than usual. He’s walked next to me but kept his hand off my back. And I like his hand there.
He stands back, only slightly farther away than normal, and with his sunglasses on, I can’t tell if his eyes are on me or not… It sure feels like they are, though.
“Drop your shoulder juuust a tad. Perfect!” Charles snaps a few more shots before setting his camera down. “That was great. I think you’re really going to be happy with these.”
I get down off the chair. “I’m sure I will. You always do such wonderful work.”
“You make it easy.”
Wesley materializes and puts a hand on my back, and unconsciously, I lean into him. “We’ve gotta go.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask at his curt tone.
“Yeah, someone tipped a pap off, and they’re starting to come in droves. I wanna get you outta here before it gets too bad.”
I offer Charles a tight smile and rush to the dressing room. Wes walks around the small space before nodding at me and then closes the door behind him where I know he’ll stand to prevent anyone from barging in. Which has actually happened more than once.
Sliding on a flowy white jumpsuit and wedge heels, I leave the outfit from the shoot on the counter.
As I turn the knob, the door is opened, and I’m tucked into Wes. Safe. Warm. I haven’t been with him when things have been tense yet, but I already know he’ll make sure I’m protected. Even if it’s just a few pesky paparazzi, he takes it seriously. He ushers me down the hallway and out the back door. “Motherfucker,” he grumbles as soon as we step outside.
“Quinn!”
“Over here!”
“Who are you wearing!”
“Is it true you’re pregnant?”
Wesley’s arm tightens, and he uses his other one to clear a path. There are only about seven or so cameras, so we’re able to make it to the SUV unscathed. He puts me in the back seat like normal and slams the door so hard I jump.
“One of these days, I’m gonna run these motherfuckers over.” He glances at me as he turns the ignition.
“I don’t think my insurance would cover that.”
He smirks as he honks the horn at one of the paparazzi who’s standing in front of the vehicle taking pictures. “Move, you piece of shit. Jesus Christ.”
As soon as the pap rounds the hood, the tires squeal, and we tear out of the parking lot and down the street. He drives in circles, his eyes darting from mirror to mirror, and loses the ones following us. I lean back in the leather. “Thank you.”
“This is bullshit, Quinn. I’m not waiting for the tour to put another man on you.”
I hesitate to answer. “Okay.”
And he notices. I’ve gotten enough shit from Gail that I thought I’d make her happy by only having Wes with me. “Stop caring about what that bitch thinks. You’re the boss, babe. You can do whatever the fuck you want to. And frankly, you need to. I’ll die before I let someone hurt you, but I’m only one man. Not much good to you if I’m dead.”
Hearing him say that puts so much pressure on my chest, I find it hard to breathe. I lean forward and put my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t say that.”
“Where was your mantager?”
“Mantager?”
He looks back at me and I’m so glad she’s choosing to be driven in the limo alone now instead of with me. “What I really want to call her might piss you off, so we’re goin’ with that.”
The things I call her in my head might shock him. “You’d be surprised,” I mumble.
“I shouldn’t ask, but I’ve gotta know. Why don’t you just fire her?”
It’s such a loaded question that I don’t even bother to answer. “She’s meeting us there.” I change the subject and put my elbow on the window ledge and rest my head in my hand. “I heard you this morning, you know?”
He glances at me. “When?”
“When you were arguing with her about waking me up.”
“You need sleep.”
And you’re the only one who seems to care. “Thank you. For sticking up for me.”
He doesn’t acknowledge my gratitude, but I want him to know it’s appreciated just the same.
When we pull into the underground parking garage, my aunt is already standing at the door, waiting for me. She comes and opens my door. “Bessimo is waiting. He’s just picked out the most fabulous outfits.”
“Hi, Gail,” I say dryly.
She’s already grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the door. I can barely keep up with her, but I don’t have to for very long because Wes yanks me out
of her grip.
“She stays with me.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” She tosses her hand in the air. “I’ve already been inside, and it’s perfectly safe.”
Wes tucks me into his side and then leans down, getting in her face. “She stays with me.”
The huff is coming in three, two, one…
“Hmph.” Then she turns around on her Jimmy Choos and opens the door.
I move to follow her, and Wes gives me some room as we walk. “Quinn! Darling!” Bessimo rushes to me, round belly barely hidden beneath the silk kimono, and long gray hair in a ponytail, holding his arms out.
“Hi, Bessimo.” When he leans in to hug me, Wes doesn’t move.
“Come, come, child.” He and my aunt walk ahead of us, and when we get to the dressing room, a couple of people are milling around. It’s rather large, but Bessimo’s studio is one of the biggest and most sought after around, which means he employs a lot of staff. “We can start with the evening gown. It’s going to look fabulous against your skin tone.” He hands me the bright red sequin dress and stands here as though he’s waiting for me to change.
I look up at Wesley, who still hasn’t allowed me to move an inch away from him.
“Get out,” Wes demands.
“Chop, chop, people. She needs to change.” My aunt actually claps her hands as if it means something. Once they exit the room, Wes walks to the opposite side and looks in the closet, then nods at me as he walks out.
“Look at this.” Gail holds up a black swimsuit that has a circle the size of a quarter in the crotch. There is a line as thick as a pencil that’s supposed to cover my nipples.
“I’m not wearing that.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Gail!” She starts unzipping my jumpsuit at the sides, and I shoo her hands away. “I don’t want to wear that. I’d practically be naked.”
“Nonsense. Bessimo will drape your hair over—”
“You just don’t care, do you?”
“Of course, I do, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It’s not every day you’re going to be on the cover of a magazine, Quinn.”
“This will be my twenty-third cover. And I’ve never done one with so little clothing. I may be twenty-four now, but teenage girls still follow me, and even younger ones now since the soundtrack. I don’t want them to think this is how they need to dress.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re a celebrity. If they look up to you, that’s their parents’ fault. Not your job to censor your body because some chubby girl might see it and make herself puke.”
“I can’t believe you just said that.” My God, she’s a horrible person. I already know this because I learned it the hard way. I’ve also learned it’s just easier for me to do what she says instead of trying to argue with her. Plus, I really don’t have a choice. But I totally disagree with her on this. “It is my responsibility.”
“You’ll wear the damn suit.” She tosses my jumper on the couch. “First the dress, though. It’s a Marcie Perit.” I mutely raise my arms, and she helps zip it in the back.
Dangling the stripper heels on my fingers, I walk to the door and yank it open, then stomp out of the room. Wes raises a brow as I push past him, but I don’t get far.
He grabs my hand and pulls me back to him, then wraps an arm around my waist. His lips at my ear, he demands, “Stay at my hip, Quinn.” That low, growly voice makes my knees weak, and I stumble.
Chapter 3
Wesley
I keep her up with my arm a steel band around her waist. “You good?”
“Yep. Perfectly fine,” she lies. “I just tripped.”
I glance down at her bare feet and chuckle. She didn’t trip; I make her nervous. If she was better at reading people, she’d know she fucks me up, too.
The photographer waits for her just inside the door, and I stand aside as she’s whisked away. Nobody would be able to tell by her smile that she’s upset or tired even though she stormed out of the dressing room. She’s a true performer.
As she’s getting her hair and makeup touched up, I walk around the room, checking exits and closets, all while keeping one eye on her until she’s ready to go. Then I stand off to the side but close enough that I can get to her fast if I need to.
A couple of male models are sitting over on the set, which is a white bed in the middle of what is supposed to be a dirty alley. They’re shirtless, all muscle from the gym and none from an actual ounce of hard labor in their life, wearing ripped up jeans. One of them has blond highlights at the tips of his short cut and the other has hair that touches his shoulders.
They shake hands with my girl and listen for direction from Bessimo.
A few shots of them standing off to the side watching her. Her lying down, then sitting up. And then he tells the guys to get on the bed next to her.
I take a step closer as he positions her between them. The long slits on the side of the bright red dress stop at her hip bones. She sits up on her knees, and all the material bunches in the middle, exposing her bare thighs. The thin straps barely hold up the top that dips so low I can practically see her nipples.
Jesus fuck, I wanna punch somebody right now.
“Arch your back up, and Seth, kneel behind her but keep one foot on the floor and pull the shoulder strap off the right side.” He does exactly that; all oiled up, his slimy fingers graze her creamy skin. “Good. Ash, put one leg on either side of her thigh on the opposite side, more. Then take the strap down… yes.”
I take a step closer.
I’m watching her face. The way she swallows and how her eyes gloss over. She barely blinks, and her hand resting on her thigh is shaking.
Then I take another step.
The camera lights start flashing, and the models continue to touch her. They move fast, then freeze. Click. Another angle. Freeze. Click.
I’m even closer now.
“Ash, lean in more, switch hands, and put your other right at the top of the slit.”
He does it, and the camera flashes again. His fingers grip the material, pulling it away even farther. Flash.
Instead of getting closer, I lock up. Fists clench, and my neck involuntarily twitches.
She looks away now, toward me, and seems shocked I’m so close. Her eyes plead, her lips part, and the pulse in her neck pounds. Without words, she’s begging me to help her.
I take another step, she blinks, and a tear slides down her face.
Yeah, this is not happening. Not only because she’s uncomfortable but because I can’t stand to look at these dipshits touching her like that. “Back up.” I storm over to her as the camera still flashes.
“Excuse me!” Bessimo hollers.
“I said back the fuck up.” The models for some stupid reason don’t move, but as soon as I reach Quinn, I scoop her up, tearing the dress where the asshat was holding the strap, and she buries her head in my shoulder, her entire body shaking. “You’re okay,” I tell her, completely blocking out the voices yelling at me for taking her away.
Quinn quivers against me as she cries, and I glare at Gail as I pass her, daring her to say fuckin’ boo to me. She snaps her mouth shut, and I close the door to the dressing room in her face.
After I flick the lock, I take Quinn to the couch and sit down. She’s practically molding herself against me and shuddering so hard my body’s shaking right along with hers. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
I know what freaked her out because I read the fuckin’ police report. Her attacker was behind her. She was standing in her bathroom taking her makeup off, and when she lifted her head, he was behind her. He held a knife to her throat and then cut the straps of her tank top. The entire time, she watched in the mirror.
“It caught me off guard. I don’t know why—”
“I do, and trust me, it’s understandable.”
She lifts her head, red nose and mascara running dow
n her cheeks. “How do you know?”
“I’m your bodyguard. I’m fuckin’ good at what I do. I know everything.”
Someone pounds on the door, and then Gail yells, “Open the door.”
Quinn starts to get up, but I hold her tighter. “Ignore her.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m okay.”
I keep her on my lap for a second and rest my hand on the top of her shoulder, rubbing my thumb along the pulse in her neck. So fucking unprofessional. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“I’m not pretending. I’m good. It caught me off guard, but I’m good now.”
“Open this damn door!”
She hops off my lap and walks across the room but stops before she opens the door and looks over her shoulder at me. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to do it, you know?”
“Do what?”
“Everything she wants.”
Her smile fades, and she shrugs. “I don’t really have a choice.” Before I can tell her that’s bullshit, she opens the door, and Gail charges in, pointing her finger at a piece of material on the counter. “Go change. We can salvage this portion at least.”
Quinn grabs it without a word and goes into the attached bathroom.
“What the hell was that?” Gail points at me now as if I’m a fucking child.
I lean back in the couch and rest my ankle on a bended knee.
“I don’t answer to you, Gail. Get that shit straight right now.”
She crosses her arms, and behind her, Quinn closes the door to the attached bathroom. “Do you have any idea what you just did?”
“Yeah. I know exactly what I did.”
“And what was that? Ruin a photoshoot that’s taken seven months to organize.”
I slowly get up, taking time to cool off as I stand. “No.” I get in her face. “I got her out of a situation that was uncomfortable and scaring the hell out of her.”
“Well, Bessimo is not happy.”
“I don’t give a fuck about him.”
She huffs. “You don’t have to be so vulgar.”