Hard to Hold (The Hold series Book 2)

by Arell Rivers

  His tone takes on a softer edge. “You’re definitely safer with him than at your rental. Not that we don’t have your place covered front and back, twenty-four-seven.”

  “Yes, but Cole has the gated entrance.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing. Roberto will have a plan by the time you leave your office.”

  I hang up with the private investigator when a text from Cole arrives.

  Kim called to say Emilie’s on her way. Wish you had made that call.

  Me, too. I don’t want to worry him about my work woes, so I simply reply: Greta has Kim on Emilie duty. I’m working on your media blitz. Hope your trainer worked you hard—want you to look your best for Friday!

  He replies with a photo of him in just a towel, fresh from the shower. Drool. I respond: I guess you’ll do. ;)

  I let myself stare at his photo for a minute longer, and my nipples start to throb. Even without trying, Cole makes me crazy for him. Strike Two.

  Dropping my cell back into my purse, I put the finishing touches on the media blitz strategy. It occurs to me that I should discuss it with Kim before bringing it to Greta. Not that she’ll have anything constructive to add, but I don’t want to give Greta anything else to hold against me.

  Stretching my neck and shrugging my shoulders, I take the papers from the printer and walk over to Kim’s office. It’s empty. It’s only then that I realize most of the office is gone. Lunchtime. Considering how my day has gone so far, plus the delicious breakfast Cole made for me, I’m not surprised I’m not hungry.

  Something on Kim’s desk catches my attention. It’s a photo of Cole taken during his PSA shoot last Friday. He looks so sad in it, probably because he had to think about his mom. Which reminds me, I have to finish up with his photos for the “No One to Hold” video. Leaving the strategy on Kim’s desk, I appropriate a Post-It and scribble a note asking her to send me her comments about the strategy, then go back to my office to work on the video.

  I’m reviewing the order of the photos one last time when Kim strolls into my office. Without knocking, of course.

  “This will do.” She flings the papers on my desk.

  “Do you have any changes?” I ask, taking a moment to flip through the pristine pages. Shocker, she hasn’t added anything.

  “Nope. I take it you’ve booked all the shows?”

  “Booked and confirmed.”

  “Good.”

  I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. “Do you want to be in on Cole’s prep?”

  “Oh, I’ll do that. Don’t you have some social media posts to make?”

  If we bring this to Greta, will she side with me? Despite her flaws, she won’t let a client go out unprepared. I hope. Well, I can prep Cole at home if need be.

  “I think we should run this by Greta.”

  Kim looks put out. “I’m on Cole’s team. I can handle a little prep work, Rosie.”

  This is not “a little prep work” by any stretch of anyone’s imagination except, apparently, Kim’s.

  Gritting my teeth, I say, “Stop calling me Rosie. And we’re both on his team. Let’s get Greta’s sign off on the strategy and see what she has to say.”

  Kim rolls her eyes and says, “So the little delicate Rose thinks she has thorns? Fine. If you want to see your boyfriend that much, by all means, sit in on the prep.”

  Strategy in hand, I march past Kim into Greta’s office, where we wait for her to finish a call. I hand her the strategy, yet it’s Kim who says, “This is the strategy for Cole’s media blitz on Friday.” As if she has any ownership of it.

  Greta skims through the document and asks, “Has his wife surfaced recently?”

  My stomach lurches at the moniker, even though Lisa is the very furthest thing from his wife. It’s a good thing I skipped lunch.

  Kim responds, “Not since she tried to sell her story last week. Which you shot down, of course.”

  “Good. This looks fine.” She hands the document back to Kim. “I want you both to prep Cole, with Rose taking the lead. By the end of the blitz, the whole world better be focused on his new single. It needs to get the attention it deserved a week ago.”

  She gives me a hard look. Strike Two lingers unspoken.

  Dismissed, we go to Kim’s office. She’s clearly annoyed not to be in charge of the prep, but at least Greta did the right thing for Cole.

  “Kim, I’ll reach out to Cole and set up a meeting with him here for Wednesday. I’ll send you a list of topics you can prep him on.”

  “Rosie, I’ve already been in touch with him about Emilie’s arrival today. I’ll arrange the meeting.”

  “My name is Rose. Ask him to be here by”—he works out on Wednesdays with his trainer at nine—“say eleven in the morning. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

  My stomach rumbles on my way back to my office, so I rummage through my purse looking for a protein bar. The voicemail light blinking on my office phone catches my eye, so I cue up the message as I open the wrapper to the flattened bar.

  A female voice says, “You really think having that model move in with my husband is going to change the tide?”

  My heart goes into overdrive. Lisa.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop all this and let Cole and me continue what we started in Vegas. The media is printing my story, so soon the whole world will know the truth. Stay the fuck away. Or else.” The recording ends with a laugh that sends shivers down my spine.

  I stare at the phone and replay the message twice. I’m both chilled and hot with anger. I need to tell Cole. And Nolan. And the police. What magazine or tabloid website has agreed to print her lies? Or was she making it up? It seems like any savvy reporter would know about Friday’s deadline.

  Taking a deep breath, I pick up my cell and call Cole, who doesn’t answer. Of course. Kim is probably talking his ear off.

  I need to get my breathing under control before I hyperventilate. I tap each finger to my thumb sequentially, replaying my former therapist’s calming words until my breath evens. Finding Nolan’s contact on my phone, I exhale and press “Send.” His answering machine picks up. Crap. I leave him a message to call me back immediately.

  Officer Mahoney. My call goes to his voicemail, too. What is this? A conspiracy? I leave him the same message I left for Nolan.

  Lowering my head into my shaking hands, I try to decide on a strategy. I should tell Greta about Lisa’s message, at least the media part, but what if the whole truth comes out? Strike Two.

  This sucks. Lisa has to be stopped now, but I’m powerless to do it. I need to talk with Cole. I try his number again.

  “Hey there, beautiful. Stop having Kim call me. She’s annoying.”

  Ignoring his comment, I say, “Cole, thank God.”

  “What’s wrong, Ro?”

  I take a deep breath. “Lisa left me a voicemail.”

  “What?! What did the Psycho Bitch say?”

  I tell him.

  Cole’s voice booms through my phone. “She’s absolutely nuts. And who would print her shit?”

  “I don’t know. No one has reached out to us for comment. I know Greta’s been squashing the story all over town. I think Lisa might be faking.” I grab a rubber band and pull it between my hands.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time. Are you okay?”

  Wrapping the rubber band around my left palm, I respond, “I feel better now that I have you on the phone.”

  I loop the rubber band and wrap it again. And again.

  “You’re staying with me tonight. No arguments. I don’t want you out of my sight.”

  “I spoke with Nolan about that earlier. He agreed that your house is safer for me. Roberto and Wills are concocting a way to get me there without alerting the media. Or Lisa.” I pluck the rubber band.

  “Does Kates know about her call?”

  “No. I left voicemails for him and Officer Mahoney.” Greta walks by the hallway on her way to her office. “I need to tell Greta,” I add in a wh
isper.

  “I want you safe. Maybe you should come over now.”

  I pluck the rubber band again. “Cole, I can’t leave yet. I still have work to do. I’m safe here in the office.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  My eyes stray to the opened, flattened, untouched protein bar, which looks unappetizing. “I have a protein bar.”

  “I’ll have dinner delivered for us. Fuck. And Emilie.”

  I remove the rubber band from my palm and run my finger over the indentations it left. “We’re going to have to tell her about Lisa, too.”

  “I want to find the Psycho Bitch and stop her.”

  “No arguments here.” My eyes stray to the hallway. “I better go tell Greta about the call.”

  “Sweetheart, good luck. And be very careful. I plan on doing a full body search tonight to make sure you’re unscathed.”

  “I love how you can make me smile on such a shitty day.”

  “And I simply love you.”

  Well, then.

  Monday evening

  THE VEHICLE SHIFTS into park. “Coast is clear, Rose. We’re in the garage.”

  I whip the blanket off my body and sit up in the backseat of Wills’s car. Testing my arms and legs, I start to work out the kinks developed over the twenty-minute ride from my house to Cole’s.

  “I feel like I was in a scene from a James Bond movie. Although this cloak and dagger stuff looks a lot sexier on screen,” I say, while trying to ignore the pins and needles attacking my foot.

  “Sorry about that. But, the good news is none of the reporters out front were suspicious at all. They recognized me as Cole’s bodyguard.”

  “Thanks so much, Wills. I guess we’ll be reversing this tomorrow morning so I can get my car and drive into work?”

  “Yes. I’ll be waiting for you at six a.m., and Roberto will meet us at your house.”

  Ugh. I hate mornings. But this isn’t Wills’s fault. “Sounds great. Thanks so much for all your help.”

  Smiling at him, I turn my head when the car door opens.

  “Finally.”

  Cole grabs me by my arms and hauls me against his hard body. His attentive eyes take in the scene in the backseat before zeroing in on my face. He gives me a lingering kiss, then sets me down on my feet. Breathless, I shift my weight off my pincushion of a foot.

  Cole shakes Wills’s hand. “I appreciate your keeping my girl safe.”

  “Of course. I’ll stay in here for a while, then leave. If I go now, it might raise a red flag to the reporters.”

  Cole cocks his head. “No. I have a better idea. Why don’t you join us inside? Emilie’s here.”

  He waggles his eyebrows at Wills. Oh, that’s right. Cole mentioned that he thinks they’re interested in each other.

  Wills’s ears turn red. Yup, Cole wasn’t mistaken about his interest in Emilie. I hope she returns it, and not just for selfish reasons—Wills is one of the good ones. Not wanting him to miss his opportunity to talk with her, I link arms with both of these gorgeous men.

  Smiling up at Wills, I say, “Yes. Let’s all go.”

  Wills looks a little nervous, but nods in agreement. Before we take a step, Cole reaches into the car and grabs my laptop. Then the three of us make our way to the kitchen.

  A statuesque blonde stands near the kitchen island, a half-full glass of water in her hand. Just as I feared, Emilie’s even more striking in person. I drop my arms from both of the men.

  Cole tugs me close and brings us to the island. “Rose, let me introduce you to the woman you set me up with, Emilie Dubois. Em, this is my girlfriend, Rose Morgan.”

  The irony of that is a bit sickening. Reminding myself that Cole loves me, clinging to that thought like a lifeline, I extend my hand and smile at her. “Emilie, it’s a pleasure to finally meet in person.”

  “Oui. Your Cole is always talking about his girlfriend. You are a lucky lady.”

  I glance at Cole, who is smiling at me with his dimple showing. Damn. “I appreciate all you’re doing for Cole. Especially moving in here.”

  She waves her hand. “No problem. I am leaving for a shoot soon. Anyway, I am glad to be helpful.”

  Her French accent makes her more alluring. Wills didn’t stand a chance.

  I motion for him to join us rather than stay in the background. “Emilie, I believe you know Wills? He’s Cole’s bodyguard, which means he’ll be looking after you as well.”

  He steps forward, clearing his throat. “Hi, Emilie.”

  As a publicist, I’ve learned to watch people without seeming to, and I study Emilie’s reaction. Her body language has shifted. Cole pegged it; she’s interested.

  She replies, “I am so happy to see you again, Wills.”

  Cole and I exchange a glance, and he winks at me before saying, “Dinner got here just before you did. Emilie helped me order from Casa de Maria. Are you ready for some tapas?”

  I lick my lips, Wills nods and Cole indicates that everyone should go into the dining room.

  Emilie and Wills precede me, while I lag behind to watch Cole retrieve another place setting. His languid movements ooze sex appeal, even while doing this simple task. It’s no wonder women throw themselves at him.

  “What?”

  “I was just thinking that you’re sex on legs,” I whisper.

  Cole stops short, and the plate clatters onto the island. Grabbing my shoulders, he pulls me flush against his hard body. His mouth descends on mine and, before I can even blink, his tongue invades my mouth. My head swims at his unleashed passion and I join in the erotic dance without reservation.

  Emitting a low groan, he pulls back. “You can’t say stuff like that to me,” he says in a harsh whisper. “I would fuck you on this island right now if we didn’t have guests in the other room.”

  Oh, my. I look at the island, wondering if Emilie and Wills would notice the delay.

  “Don’t.”

  Wistfully, I reply, “Later.”

  “Fuck.” He shakes his head. “Without a doubt.”

  Cole retrieves the dish, picks up silverware and we join Emilie and Wills in the dining room. I take a seat in front of one of the place settings while Cole arranges the things he brought in from the kitchen for himself. An impressive spread of tapas is lined up on the table. We fill our plates.

  Emilie asks, “So, Rose, your job as a publicist is very difficult, no?”

  “It can be,” I respond between bites of seared scallops. I’m determined not to be too self-conscious about eating in front of the supermodel, but it’s difficult. “We try to get our clients the best possible press, but sometimes things don’t go as planned.”

  “Oui.” She nibbles on a piece of flatbread, then cocks her head. “Cole has told me all about this Starr woman. She is crazy. She must know that her lies will be discovered.”

  I nod. “She does. She’s getting more desperate by the day.” Glancing at Cole, I continue, “Did you hear about the message she left for me today?”

  “Cole told me.”

  “Greta’s checking in with her contacts again to see if she can find out who might have interviewed Starr. She thinks Starr’s faking, since everyone promised her they wouldn’t run the story.” I nibble on the scallop and continue, “Still, I think it’s a good idea for you to stick close to Wills until this whole thing is settled. After all, she did mention you in her message.”

  Judging from the looks on both Emilie’s and Wills’s faces, they are both happy about this new arrangement, although not the reason behind it.

  Cole says, “Em, I know I said this before, but I’m sorry you’re being dragged into this mess.”

  “No worries. You and Wills will keep me safe.”

  Speaking of which, I ask, “Did Kim give you the details about your publicity date tomorrow?” Both Cole and Emilie nod in unison. I’ve successfully repressed thinking about the impending date, but my time has run out. I’m feeling better about it after this dinner, though.

  Emilie
replies, “She told my agency that I am to go out with Cole in a skin-tight dress that would put Mimi Barker to shame.”

  I steal a glance at Cole, remembering again how he’d tormented me with that vibrator as revenge for those unbearable dates with Mimi. The look in his eyes tells me that he remembers, too. His index finger rubs across his cheek, causing me to clench my thighs.

  Closing my eyes to block out the sexual pull emanating from the man beside me, I turn to Emilie. “Wear whatever makes you comfortable. You are so beautiful, you could wear a paper bag and men would fall at your feet.”

  Cole dons a mischievous grin. “Isn’t that right, Wills?”

  A flush steals up Wills’s throat, but he manages to say, “Your beauty comes from the inside.”

  Wow. Color me impressed. Emilie looks down at her plate, but I can see her smile.

  After we finish dinner and clean up, Cole kisses my hand. “Rose and I are going to retire. Please feel free to use the pool, or just hang out. The bar’s fully stocked. Make yourself at home.”

  I walk over to Emilie. “Thank you for being so gracious about everything. I know when you signed up to be Cole’s publicity date, you never imagined things would go this way.”

  “I did not, Rose. But Cole is a good man and you two deserve your happiness. Plus,” her French accent makes the simple word sound elegant, “my agent is thrilled with my increased recognition here in America.”

  “I’m glad.” We both glance at Wills when he closes the door to the dishwasher. “You deserve happiness too, Emilie.”

  I’m surprised when she kisses me on both cheeks and whispers, “I hope so.”

  COLE AND I are still wrapped together, but our breathing returns to normal as the sweat on our naked bodies evaporates. Every time with him is better than the last.

  “Say it.”

  Raising up on my arm, I say, “I love you.”

  “I never tire of hearing that, Ro. And I love you.”

  Looking into his eyes, I have no question that he’s worth it—Strike Two and whatever might follow it. I trace his jawbone with my finger. “Thank you for suggesting dinner tonight with Emilie. I do feel much better after meeting her. You were right, you two do seem more like brother and sister.”