First Priority

by Este Holland

  Truman

  “You’re screwed, sweetheart.” Angela paced her office, smoking and twirling her glasses around and around by the earpiece.

  “You can’t smoke inside, Angela.”

  She puffed like a madwoman, then put it out in a coffee cup. “What were you thinking, going out in public?”

  “He wasn’t comfortable going to my house at first.”

  She frowned at me like I was some sort of sex criminal. I raised a brow, and she shook it off.

  “Your best bet is to get out of town. You don’t have anything major coming up right now. You just won an Oscar. You can take some time off.”

  “I don’t know. Bill—”

  “Bill is here.”

  I looked up to see my manger in the glass doorway, huffing as if he’d run from the parking lot. I didn’t know why Bill was always harping on himself. He was still a good-looking guy with sandy hair and brown eyes. So, he was thinning a little on top, and his abs weren’t as tight as they used to be? The guys he fucked didn’t care.

  He sat on the love seat next to me and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “So, Adam, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  He gave me a look I’d been getting from him since I was eighteen, and I straightened my spine. “What?”

  “It’s not like you. Who is this guy? Christ. At least he didn’t say something stupid to that pap.”

  “Oh, fuck off. He didn’t ask for it. And it was only one.”

  “So far,” Angela chimed in. “There are already more at his apartment.”

  Fuck. Adam’s going to kill me. “It’s his stepbrother’s place.”

  “What are you thinking?” Bill turned to Angela, cutting me off.

  “Out of town. Somewhere difficult for them to follow for now.”

  “I’m not leaving Adam alone to be dissected and crucified.”

  They turned to me with similar blank expressions, and it made my blood boil. They didn’t give a shit about Adam. They’d ply him with fake promises and smiles and make him sign NDAs. It was my fault, and I wasn’t going to abandon him. I’d make it right.

  “Angela, fix it. And don’t throw him to the wolves. I…I like him.” I stood. “I’m taking him with me while you sort it out. And remember, he doesn’t like the spotlight. He has anxiety problems.” I’d told Angela all this already, but I wanted to make sure she heard my orders. She opened her mouth, but I rushed ahead. “No interviews. No exposés. Riley!”

  Angela threw her hands in the air.

  My PA popped his head around the door. “Yes, Mr. James?”

  “Book a jet for Dublin—immediate departure. And pack my bags for a month.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I took out my phone and called Adam. It went to voice mail. “Dammit.”

  “Avoiding you, is he?” Bill smirked.

  “Why exactly is this funny to you?” I asked, my voice hard as stone.

  That wiped the look off his face. “It’s not.”

  I glared until his eyes shifted away, then sent Adam a text. I really hoped he had a passport.

  Adam

  OhmyGod,ohmyGod,oh. My. God! Truman told me to pack a bag for a month. Fuck. A whole month? What the hell was I going to do with Truman James for a month?

  At least I worked online and wrote on my laptop.

  Adam: Yes, I have a passport. Yes, I’ll be ready to run out the door in two hours.

  I didn’t want to go with him. I barely knew him, but I really wasn’t comfortable staying. Plus, I couldn’t afford to run away on my own, or I would.

  Chad and Pacey kept plying me with questions, and there were more paparazzi downstairs. I had to go with Truman or be forced to talk to the press. I felt faint just thinking about it.

  I packed, not knowing how many shirts and briefs to bring. There had to be washing machines somewhere, right? In the end, I stuffed my carry-on, grabbed my messenger bag and toiletries, made sure I had my chargers, and I was ready to go.

  Truman texted me that he was around the block, that he’d meet me at the corner, and I should try and go out the back of the building. Good plan, but I’d never done it. I left a note on my bed to let Chad know I would be gone for a while and ran out of the apartment. I made it to the lobby without incident and spotted a maintenance door, so I went in and wandered around a few minutes until I found an exit.

  “There he is!”

  I froze and looked over my shoulder. “Adam!” Five of them ran down the alley after me, and I fled. I spotted a black town car with the license plate Truman had texted me and made a dash for it.

  I fell into the car and shoved my bags to the floor.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” Truman asked as the car pulled away.

  “Well, I figured a carry-on would be faster than checking luggage since we’re trying to run.”

  My words fell out of my head. Truman looked edible in a tight black shirt. He hadn’t shaved. As usual, his mouth drew me in, and before I knew it, I was leaning toward him. He smiled and nipped at the tip of my nose.

  I gasped and pulled away, blushing furiously. “Sorry.”

  “I’m not. Anyway, we’re not checking bags. I have a private jet ready.”

  “I get motion sickness, so—” I whipped around from hunting for my Dramamine. “Wait. A private jet? Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  I flopped back against the seat and closed my eyes. Truman’s long fingers gripped my hand and slid in between mine.

  “Motion sick already?”

  “No. Rich-people sick.”

  Rich laughter filled the car, and I rocked my head to the side to see him.

  Truman leaned his head next to mine and stared into my eyes. “I’m so sorry about this mess, sweetheart.”

  A choking cough came from the driver.

  “Hi, Riley.”

  “Hello, Mr. Hendrix. Please, ignore me.”

  “That would be rude.”

  “Yes, Riley, what are you thinking?” Truman smirked. “Did you hear me?” He shook my arm to get my attention. “I’m sorry.”

  I studied his eyes. “I suppose you are, but I don’t know what to do with this mess.”

  “You don’t have to do anything. Angela will sort it out.”

  “But a whole month?”

  He shrugged as he played with my fingers. “Your apartment isn’t ready, is it?”

  “Well, no.”

  “And you don’t like staying with your stepbrother, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Then?”

  “We just met! Now you’re flying me to God knows where.” Truman tried not to smile, but I saw it anyway. “What?”

  “You know, half the population of LA would beg to be in your place, and I’m not saying that to brag.”

  “It’s true,” Riley put in. “You should see the fan mail he gets.”

  My mouth dropped open, and I sagged in my seat. “I’m being a jerk again, aren’t I?”

  “What do you mean, ‘again’? And no, you’re not. You’re overwhelmed. Why don’t you relax until we get to the airport? We can try another movie on the plane, or you can sleep. Whatever you want.”

  “Thank you. I’m not ungrateful for what you’re doing, Truman. I definitely don’t want to be near that mess. But…”

  “Everything is out of control?”

  I snapped my gaze up. “Yes, exactly.”

  Truman gave me a soft smile I hadn’t known he was capable of. “Trust me?”

  I stared into his gorgeous blue eyes. “I don’t know you. Which sounds stupid, since I’m about to board a plane with you.”

  He stared back and nodded with a sad smile. “Fair enough. I promise, I’ll take care of this, Adam. I’ll take care of you. You’ll be my first priority.”

  My heart stopped, then started up again with a bang. I gasped and threw my arms around him.

  “Whoa.” Truman chuckled. “You okay?”

  It was several seconds before I made a sound, and my voice
was thick with tears that had yet to fall. “There’s no way you could know this, but the way you said that?”

  “Yeah?” Truman rubbed my arms and shoulder. “What?” He drew back and kissed my forehead.

  “I’ve always had this awareness that I’m no one’s priority. I never have been. I wasn’t with my parents, and I wasn’t with my boyfriend in college, or my friends.” I swallowed and lifted my head. “You’re the first one.”

  Truman

  My heart broke at those words. “How can that be? You’re you.”

  Adam gave a watery chuckle. “Am I?”

  “I mean, you’re great. You’re sweet and smart and gorgeous.”

  “You don’t know me any more than I know you.” He softened his words with a peck to my jaw.

  “Granted, but it didn’t take me long to see all that,” I said.

  “I don’t give people much of a chance to get to know me. At least, that’s what my therapist says.”

  “What about that guy in the café in the photos of you? He looked familiar.” I stemmed the trickle of jealousy. Adam was telling me he didn’t have friends, so if he had one, by God, I’d support it.

  Adam gave an exasperated huff. “Jay. I told you, he was the bartender at your party, remember?”

  “Right. I knew that.” Vaguely.

  Adam rolled his eyes. “He’s a new friend, yes. We have a lot in common.”

  “Like what?” I liked Adam opening up to me, and keeping him talking was distracting him.

  “Writing. He’s writing a paranormal mystery.”

  “Nice. I like mysteries.”

  “You do?”

  I hummed. “I always loved Poirot and Sherlock Holmes. Did you see Sherlock on BBC?”

  “I did. It was amazing.” His tears dried up as we talked, and he beamed.

  I grinned at his reaction. “I love that show. Look.” I took my phone out of my pocket and showed him the lock screen. The top had the letters SHER and the bottom had four blank lines.

  “Neat! That was, um, what’s her name…Irene’s phone screen.”

  “Yep.”

  Adam faked a gasp. “You’re a nerd. Wait till I tell TMZ!”

  He bent to grab his phone, and I squeezed his waist until he laughed and squirmed.

  “Very funny.”

  Adam settled into my side as much as the seat belt allowed, and I kissed the top of his head, inhaling his shampoo.

  “Why don’t you do more mystery movies?”

  “What?”

  “Well…” Adam bit his lip and darted a glance at me. “You do action blockbusters and play romantic leads—which is great, don’t get me wrong—but if you like mysteries, why don’t you star in some of those?”

  I blinked. “Uh, because I go where my agent tells me?”

  “Truman!” He straightened to face me.

  “Adam?” I gazed into his guileless green eyes.

  “It’s your career. Why don’t you find a project you’re passionate about?”

  I had no answer for that. He leaned in and kissed my cheek near the corner of my mouth and held my hand.

  Riley pulled around to the private runway. “Mr. James…”

  Adam got out, and Riley turned around in the driver’s seat.

  “What is it?”

  “About those letters I mentioned before…the police are concerned.”

  I sighed. “And I told you, I haven’t read them, I know nothing about it. Let Bill handle it.”

  Riley bit his lip. “Yes, sir.”

  I got out and we boarded the rented jet. Adam paused in the middle of the aisle to take it in. It wasn’t huge, it had no couches or bedroom, but there was a small bathroom and a minibar. No steward, but the copilot could act as one if I asked. I had a feeling Adam would make us serve ourselves.

  “Thank you,” Adam murmured before taking a seat near the back.

  I turned and saw my PA give Adam a commiserating pat. What was that about?

  “Riley, a few things.” I led him out of Adam’s earshot. “What am I missing?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Is something wrong with Adam?”

  Understanding dawned on Riley’s lean face. “Oh, not exactly. I think he’s a bit overwhelmed with all you can do with a snap of your fingers.”

  Riley was a great assistant, and every now and then his steel spine shone through. It was why I’d hired him.

  “I see. I have an idea of where I want to take him. Tell me if you think it’s too much for him.”

  Riley’s grin nearly overtook his face as I told him my plan. “I think it’s perfect. I’ll call Marcel for you, sir. He’ll be waiting at Dublin Airport. Good luck. Call me if you need me.” He paused. “Please, be careful.”

  I nodded absently. “Oh, Daniel’s staying at the house while I’m gone. I know you don’t like him, but you don’t have to hang around if you don’t want to.”

  Riley scowled but didn’t say a word, seeing as how Daniel was my best friend. “Yes, sir.”

  “Thanks, Riley.”

  He paused at the door to the jet, blinked, and gave a small nod. I guess my thanks surprised him since I rarely thanked him for anything. Damn, I’d only known Adam a few weeks, only been in his presence a handful of times, and already his behavior was rubbing off on me.

  I smiled in anticipation. I couldn’t wait to see what else Adam’s magic would do.

  Chapter 12

  Adam Wakes up in Ireland

  Adam

  We watched the first two seasons of Sherlock, and then I took two Dramamine when the turbulence got too harsh and slept for the rest of the flight.

  When we landed, Truman kissed all around my face, and I woke with a smile. “Hey.”

  “Hey, sweetheart. We’re here.”

  I hadn’t said anything about the pet name because I loved it. Every time he said it, my heart pounded as if to tell me, “Yes! Him! Keep him!” As if he were mine to keep. That would be up to him. Seeing the way Truman lived was an experience I’d never forget. Who drives out onto a runway to board a private jet? Rich people, that’s who.

  I stretched and tried to shake off the medicine. We exited the plane and found a driver and car waiting. I snuck a glance at Truman as we walked across the runway. He looked like the model he used to be with his long-legged stride, one hand in his pocket, pushing aside his linen jacket, and the other gripping mine tight. I was a little in awe of him.

  “I know we’re in Dublin, but where exactly are we going?” I asked as we settled in the back seat.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Really? That’s not entirely good for me.”

  “Oh.” Truman scowled to himself. “Sorry. I didn’t think of that.”

  He was trying so hard, so I put my hand on his leg, and said, “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

  “Are you sure?” Truman studied my face as the car pulled out. “I can tell you. It’s nowhere crazy. I promise.”

  “I’m sure.” I took a deep breath. Go with the flow.

  “Go with the flow?” Truman guessed.

  I grinned. “Yep.”

  “Can I ask you something? Do you have medication?”

  “I have some Xanax for emergencies. I rarely take it.”

  “Why?”

  I shrugged. “I prefer talk therapy and meditation. I’m not saying others shouldn’t take it, but this works for me.”

  “You meditate?”

  “Yep. Not every day. I should, but it’s been hard at Chad’s place.”

  “I can imagine.” Truman flattened his lips with a furrowed brow.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t like the way your stepbrother talked to you, or about you.”

  I swallowed. “I don’t either.”

  Truman lifted his head and met my eyes. “Why do you put up with it?”

  “I don’t usually.”

  “Good,” he said with conviction.

  “At the party, I was overwhelmed and I…I me
an, he’s letting me stay with him rent-free. I know it’s no excuse for the way he treats me”—my breathing ticked up—“but I can’t handle confrontations very well, and—”

  “Hey, it’s okay.” He smoothed the hair away from my forehead. “I’m sorry I made it worse. I was an ass that night. But in my defense, I rarely have people turn me down.”

  Truman nudged me until I shook my head and smiled.

  “Conceited.” I squeezed Truman’s hand. “Chad and I hadn’t spoken in years. My dad was the one to suggest I live with him while they fixed my apartment, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” I paused. “He’s been a bully since he was thirteen.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Something in Truman’s eyes made me think he understood me. I was about to ask, but he changed the subject.

  “You hungry?”

  “Starved.”

  Truman asked the driver to go to a restaurant, and I took in the sights of the Dublin streets as much as possible out of the tinted car window. I fell in love with the old buildings with their colorful planters full of flowers and the brick-paved walkways, and I hadn’t even stepped out of the car yet. It was so different from Pasadena and LA. I hadn’t realized what I was missing until it smacked me in the face. Something new and different. And someone to share it with. I glanced at Truman, who was answering messages on his phone. He fit here.

  Fifteen minutes later, the driver stopped outside of a red brick building surrounded by a black iron fence with gold tips. I got out of the car and smiled at the name. Dublin Writers Museum.

  “This is great!”

  “We can explore that after we eat. There’s a restaurant downstairs.”

  I followed Truman and his driver.

  “Hi, I’m Adam,” I introduced myself.

  “Yes, Mr. Hendrix.” His voice was deep and smooth with a French accent. “I’m Marcel Jorge. I’ll be your driver and lookout.” I studied him closely. For someone so built, he moved gracefully. He was shorter than Truman, but taller than me, and had a shaved head and crooked nose.

  Truman grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Bodyguard.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Oh.” My pulse stuttered, and I stepped closer.

  “It’s just a precaution.”

  I nodded and followed Truman into the restaurant. He conversed with the host, trying to stay inconspicuous.