The elevator door opens behind me, and I look back to see a group of people waiting to get on. I shuffle to the side and out the doors, grateful to put a little space between myself and Anton but somehow feeling colder in the process. The electric charge flowing between us was serving as a warming current, and now that it’s gone, the waterfall on my back is turning to ice.
Anton greets everyone who enters the elevator by name, stopping to hold the doors open so people can get on. My senses fire, and my whole body goes from gooey pile of Anton-induced mush to work-mode Rose. I’m watching his interactions with these people using all the skills I’ve acquired over the years as a trained security specialist. Any one of them could be someone who is going to attempt to hurt him, and I won’t let that happen.
The reminder that I have a job to do—a real one, not this bogus article—retrains my focus and gives me a much-needed reminderthat I’m in this for the long haul. Anton does a few practiced handshake combinations with a couple guys, and then the doors close, and it’s him and me again.
I tap aimlessly on my phone in an attempt to look like a legit reporter. “Want to tell me about the people here? You’re obviously invested in the River Foxes organization.”
The easy smile Anton wore for the folks getting on the elevator falls, and his face turns stony, completely closed off. I could cry. “Good try. But no. I’m not doing this. Go find someone else’s blood to suck.”
He spins on his heel and strides off, leaving me in the deserted hallway with my galloping heart and drenched back. But more than that, with a firm resolve to keep him safe…whether I tick him off in the process or not.
6
California Dreaming
Rose
Ihop off the plane at LAX with neither a dream nor a cardigan. Nope. I’ve got a sketchy-at-best plan to get near Anton and a rolled-up formal dress in my carry-on bag. So far, my party in the USA is not nearly as glamorous as Miley makes it sound.
“I hate flying.” Noli, my younger sister, puts her hands on the top of her head and closes her eyes. People are scurrying to their gates as we wait in the terminal for Collin, Noli’s fake-turned-real husband—it’s kind of a long story—to make it up the jetway with their bags.
“You guys didn’t have to come,” I remind her. Admittedly, I’m glad they did. This assignment is uncomfortable enough. It’s nice to have allies…even if they have no idea what’s going on with Anton.
“You kidding?” Noli scoffs. “We both have the weekend off, whichneverhappens. And Poppy and Mack hook us up with tickets to a literal ball? I’m not going to look my Cinderella moment in the eye and say no thanks. Besides, Collin looks great in a tux.”
“I do what I can.” Collin winks at Noli as he joins us, tucking her into his side.
They’re so cute together. Even me, with the shutdown heart, can’t deny it.
The three of us set off for the exit, which takes us a solid forty-five minutes. Noli may hate flying, but I hate this airport. It’s an overcrowded maze, and it’s keeping me from getting closer to Anton and making sure he’s safe.
When we’re finally settled in the backseat of our rideshare and on the way to the hotel we’ve booked for the night—the same one Anton is staying at, andnoI’m not letting myself think too hard about that—I go through what I know about the weekend’s itinerary.
Anton is making an appearance at the pro-am charity golf outing this afternoon. He won’t be playing, but he’ll be there signing autographs and posing for photos.
Mack’s brother, Holland, is a professional golfer. He’s our ‘in’ to this event. Poppy and Mack got us tickets through him, at my request. I need to make nice with Holland because if I can stick with him, I can circulate with the celebrities in attendance, which should give me the access to Anton that I need.
I log in to Poppy’s social media account—don’t look at me like that…she shared her passwords—and tap on Holland’s personal profile. A quick scan of photos verifies what Lennox and the team determined for me. Holland doesn’t have a girlfriend, which’ll make my job marginally easier. I’ll take it.
We pull up to the hotel and pile out of the car. I sling my bag over my shoulder and scan my surroundings. My gaze connects with none other than Anton’s—because, of course it does. He’s being ushered toward a waiting shiny, black Escalade, which I’m sure will take him to the golf course. A bevvy of bodyguard-looking men in black stand around the SUV, and I take a moment to be grateful for the extra security Anton is forced into having at events like this. One of the guys—the one who’s standing with the door open for Anton—says something to him, but Anton doesn’t move. He’s frozen at the sight of me.
Alright. I can do this. I slip my sunglasses on, as if they can somehow shield me from the hardened blue of his eyes. “You guys go ahead. I see someone I know.”
I take off in Anton’s direction before Noli and Collin can ask me any questions.
Anton waves off the security guard outside the waiting SUV when I stop in front of him. He looks undeniably handsome and official in tan slacks and a navy button-up with a Penwick crest pin affixed to the collar.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my own personal mosquito.”
I raise a hand and give a jaunty salute. “Reporting for duty.”
“Cut the crap, Rose. What are you doing? I told you I wanted you gone when I got back from this trip, so what? You show up here? That’s not how this is going to work.”
“What can I say? I’m asuckerfor your blood.”
He shakes his head, lifting a hand and massaging the back of his neck. “Just no.”
“You’re the one who brought up the analogy,” I argue, straightening my spine. “I had no intention. I’m a serious professional here.”
