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BOOK TWO

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JULIETTE N. BANKS

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COPYRIGHT

Copyright © 2024 by Juliette N. Banks.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

This book is a work of fiction and imagination. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely one of coincidence. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products and music referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and/or use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Author: Juliette N. Banks

Editor: Julie Schrader

Cover design by: EmCat Designs

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Juliette is an indie romance author who has taken the romance genre by storm with her popular bestselling series The Dark Kings and The Dufort Dynasty.

Juliette has a vast background in consumer marketing and has previously published with Random House. She lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with Tilly, her Mainecoon kitty.

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www.juliettebanks.com

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ALSO BY JULIETTE N. BANKS

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BLACK HAWKE SECURITY

The SEAL

The BODYGUARD

The MARINE

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THE DARK KINGS OF NYC — NEW

Steamy dark mafia romance

The Darkest King - FREE

The Ruthless King

The Savage King

The Avenged King

The Merciless King

The Gangster King

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THE DUFORT DYNASTY

Steamy billionaire romance

Sinful Duty - FREE

Forbidden Touch

Total Possession

Desire Unbound

Dark Surrender

Ruthless Temptation

Naughty Festivities

Wicked Praise

Beautiful Ruin

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THE MONTGOMERY BILLIONAIRES

Steamy billionaire romance

DIRTY Seduction

DIRTY Temptation

DIRTY Player

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THE MORETTI BLOOD BROTHERS

Steamy paranormal romance

The Vampire Prince - FREE

The Vampire Protector

The Vampire Spy

The Vampire’s Christmas

The Vampire Assassin

The Vampire Awoken

The Vampire Lover

The Vampire Wolf

The Vampire Warrior

The Vampire’s Oath

The Vampire’s Fate

The Vampire’s Obsession

The Vampire’s Storm

Related books in the Moretti universe 

The Vampire King

The Claimed Wolf

The Alpha Wolf

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CHAPTER ONE

SAVANNAH

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I pluck a grape from one of the lavish platters and glance around the outdoor wedding reception for Josh and Cassy Hawke.

The place is stunning. There are thousands of white flowers and lanterns scattered around along with hundreds of guests. Many of them are celebrities and rock stars.

This is Los Angeles, after all.

Plus, Cassy’s father is none other than Blaze Cartwright from the famous rock band, Sonic Rebel.

And the reason I’m standing here.

Everything I do these days is a big deal. That sounds so arrogant, but it’s true. It’s a side effect of becoming one of the most famous actresses in the world.

Today I’m dressed head-to-toe in dusky pink and black Dolce & Gabbana and Tiffany diamonds. Images of me are on every social channel by now, talking about who I’m with. Who I spoke to. What I ate—one grape, how exciting—and judging every single inch of my face, body, and hairstyle.

This is what I wanted.

Actually, I wanted to be an actress. I knew fame came with making it to the big time, and I’m okay with it to some degree. It just takes some adjusting.

It’s been two years and I’m still adjusting.

But you can’t undo fame. Not really. Once your face has been in the spotlight as much as mine, it’s in the public psyche and you become a public figure.

Forever.

Memories of Us changed my life. The dramatic second chance romance is based on a novel and was never expected to do as well as it did. Instead, it broke box office records.

The male lead was a war hero and the heroine an everyday widowed mom and resonated with a lot of people. That and the chemistry Nick and I had on screen was amazing.

Now we’ve done it a second time.

Even I can admit, while it’s awkward to watch, some of our scenes are pretty damn hot.

Nick Marciano, or as his fans call him, the Italian stallion, is a much more seasoned actor than me. He helped me a lot during filming, and after two movies together, we became friends.

Something I value.

Becoming rich and famous does change your life, but strangely, not in the way you might expect. Yes, you can afford more things, and it’s wonderful, but the fear of running out of money doesn’t vanish. It’s weird.

Then there’re the people around you.

Everyone wants something.

Even if they say they don’t.

Or they demand it, believing it’s their right because they’re blood related. Before you judge, let me tell you a little more about my family.

My father spent the first twenty-five years of my life telling me I was a joke. A fool. A dreamer. That I’d end up waitressing, as I couldn’t act. I was talentless in his mind, and he told all his friends that visited, and they’d stand laughing at me.

I did waitress so he got that part right.  

After Memories of Us began screening and news of its success hit, he ran to me and told me I was obligated to pay his mortgage and medical bills.

And his girlfriend’s boob job.

Not joking.

Honestly, that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

My mother and sister, Ivy, are a whole other story.

I was given very strong advice from many people in the industry to not throw my money around or be pressured by friends and family.

To take my time and decide what I wanted to do.

After all, my success was overnight. One minute I was waiting tables, taking whatever acting gigs I could. The next I was invited to audition for the role of Charlotte in Memories of Us. Two years later, Memories of Them was released and I’m now one of the biggest movie stars in Hollywood.

Sonic Rebel’s hit “Lovers Night” from the eighties is in the sequel, and because Hollywood is all about networking—not what you know but who you know—Nick and I were invited to Blaze Cartwright’s daughter’s wedding.

Invited is a strong word.

Encouraged to attend and wear Tiffany jewels and Dolce & Gabbana to promote their brands is more like it.

As my manager Michelle says, you’re only as hot as your last job.

“How long do we have to stay?” I ask Nick, stuffing the grape into my mouth and chewing.

“Until the speeches at least,” he says, sipping his champagne. Then slides his finger under the collar of his shirt. “Jesus, it’s hot today.”

“I’m melting,” I mumble and then smile at one of the dozens of faces staring at us.

No, I’m still not used to it.

Speaking of hot—I pluck another couple of grapes from the bunch and pop the tip of one into my mouth as I watch the wedding party arrive—one of the groomsmen is off the charts handsome.

Listen, I’m surrounded by beautiful people every day, but this man is tall with dirty blonde hair and shockingly beautiful blue eyes. He’s built like a linebacker and has a pair of dimples that must get him any woman he wants.

I wouldn’t call him dashing. He’s way too much man for that. He doesn’t even look like he’d be charming.

A shiver races down my spine as I search for the right word.

More like he’d smirk as he roughly fucked you with his thick cock, after slamming you down onto his bed.

God.

What woman doesn’t want that?

I do. I can’t have it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t crave it.

I’m not married or celibate. I just can’t go around sleeping with every guy I find attractive. The media would pay a lot of money for a story about me if someone chose to leak it.

I slept with Savannah Sinclair...blah blah blah.

Michelle, my manager, would kill me if I shagged the best man at a celebrity wedding. However, if my every move wasn’t scrutinized, I’d seriously be considering a roll in the sheets with the hunky groomsman.

Unless, of course, he was an asshole.

I haven’t had that many boyfriends. Then again, I’m only twenty-eight. I dated a few guys in high school, then left home as soon as I could.

Mom and Dad split when I was fifteen, and it’s been a nightmare since. Actually, it was beforehand. I don’t even know why they got married. But they did, and they had me and Ivy.

Now I’m a celebrity. To date me, a guy would have to meet me. To do that, they have to get through my security team, so that eliminates almost everyone except other celebrities and officials in the business I might interact with.

Speaking of my security team. George, my bodyguard, had a heart attack last week, which was very sad. Today I have a temporary guy, who is standing a few yards away, but a new company is taking over next week.

Blaze Cartwright recommended them, and after the ordeal Cassy went through with her escaped convict stalker and how they saved her life, I figure they are a top-quality company.

So Black Hawke Security is taking over, and on Monday I’ll be meeting with the new guy to talk to him about how I like my bodyguards to work.

As a celebrity, there’s a fine line between safety and feeling like you live inside a box. It’s just finding it and working together.

“Jesus, the size of these guys,” Nick shakes his head, referring to the groom and his best men.

“You aren’t exactly small.” I glance at my co-star. He’s over six feet and works out. Although I suspect if I stood him side by side, the difference would be much more obvious.

“I’m not as big as they are. Fuck. Did they just land back on US soil from Iraq last week or what?”

I snicker. “You think they’re military?”

Nick takes another sip of his wine and nods. “Almost certainly. My cousin is in the army. They walk the same.”

“They walk the same?” I laugh too loudly, and everyone turns.

Shit.

Nick turns to face me, and we keep laughing.

“Don’t overshadow the bride, Savannah.” He leans in, teasing me.

“Please. Look at her. She’s gorgeous.” I nod toward Cassy. I met her once and immediately liked the rock star’s daughter.

“So are you,” he replied.

Nick doesn’t fancy me. He’s a flirt with a lot of people, and on camera we have some serious chemistry. But he’s never made a move.

He’s just a friend.

We get along very well and being a new leading lady, he was an amazing supportive co-star. So, we have a bond which I highly value.

I know my best friend fancies him.

Gina, who is also one of my PAs, thinks the sun shines out of his...well, everything. I was very clear to Nick that he had to stay away from her. The whole thing is a bit of a mess, really.

Gina lost her job as an assistant and asked me for a job. I felt put on the spot and defensive given the growing pressure to help my family. But then I thought this was something that could work out and silence the people in my world who thought I should be doing more.

Gina and I have been best friends since we were at high school. She’s extremely organized, creative, and loves everything Hollywood—including Nick Marciano—so I told her we would do a six-month trial working together.

Newbie error.

You can’t fire your best friend.

Ever.

Her performance has been average, and when I saw her and Nick flirting on the set of the sequel, I knew I had to intervene quietly.

“Nick,” I’d said, planting my hands on my hips outside my trailer while my team was inside. “Seriously, she’s my best friend and assistant. Go find someone else to play with.”

“Spoil sport,” he’d said, and I frowned further. “Fine. Don’t sleep with Gina. Got it.”

I knew it would initially hurt and I’d have to watch her get rejected, but it would happen eventually. Nick would simply take what he wanted and move on. I’d seen him do it time and time again over the past two years.

But he’s a pretty good friend.

“Thanks. But you know as well as I do that I look like this because a team of experts spent two hours putting me together. Tomorrow I’m going to lie outside in a bikini with a face mask on and chill.”

“Savannah Sinclair, you clearly have a limited understanding of what men focus on when they—”

“Do not finish that sentence.” I warn, lifting my grape in a threatening fashion.

Nick laughs.

I bite down on the grape with my blindingly white teeth and pierce the skin. The flavor bursts into my mouth as I watch the wedding party. And find a pair of stunning blue eyes watching me.

Shit.

I swallow the grape down before I get the chance to chew it and start coughing.

Then cough again.

I clear my throat and cough once more.

The man smirks at me, and those dimples deepen.

Christ.

My core bursts into flames and tightens as I clench my thighs together. I feel naked, like this man knows exactly what he’s doing to my body.

He winks at me.

What the hell? Damn, he’s cocky as hell.

Nick’s arm wraps around me and slaps me on the back.

Like a flash, the dimples disappear, and his face darkens.

What the hell was all that?

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RYDER

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Un-fucking-believable.

It’s her. I know it is. What the hell is Savannah Sinclair doing at Josh and Cassy’s wedding?

I must be wrong. There are a lot of celebrities here this afternoon and honestly, with all the makeup and hair shit and jewelry, they all look the same to me.

Bullshit, you’re trained to remember a face.

Josh would have told me if Ms. Sinclair was attending his wedding. Right?

Righhht?

The woman whose protective detail I’m supposed to be taking over on Monday.

“You coming with?” Aidan asks, turning to me when I don’t follow the rest of the party.

“I’m torn between taking home a rock god or a movie star tonight. What do you think, Ryder?” Scarlet asks.

I snap out of my thoughts.

“You’re the reason we have security in place,” Aidan says, wrapping an arm around Cassy’s bridesmaid. “Let’s go.”

He rolls his eyes at me, and I laugh. Then glance around me once more.

“Boo, hiss.” Scarlett says, as they walk away.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” I call out in reply to Aidan’s original question.

Aidan, a US Marine, and Josh, a Navy SEAL, own Black Hawke Security, the private security company I work for.

They’re both now close friends; hence being Josh’s groomsman today as he marries Cassy.

I joined a few years ago when I knew it was time to give up my military career. I can’t tell you exactly what I did because technically my role never existed.

Nor does Delta Force.

Now that we have that out of the way, let’s just say I’ve seen and done things that most men haven’t. And there is a huge gap in my resume. So, when I sat in front of Josh during my interview, he frowned for a few minutes, then glanced up at me.

“You been lying on a beach in Hawaii for the past eight years?”

“Something like that.” I shrugged.

“Delta?”

“Nope.”

More staring.

“You start two weeks from Monday,” Josh said, closing my resume and handing it back to me. “This is useless as shit.”

He knew.

The thing is my earlier years as an Airborne Ranger in the US Army were enough to get me this job and Josh knew it. He doesn’t need to know the rest.

In fact, as a former SEAL he knows enough.

Anyway, none of it happened.

Are we clear?

Good.

So, this fucking woman. I understand this is the job, but from the moment I heard Savannah Sinclair had been put on the Black Hawke books, I’ve been looking to hand over the job.

But we were recommended by Blake Cartwright, Josh’s father-in-law, so he wants me to personally lead her security.

Aka be her bodyguard.

“I lead the damn division, Josh. I can’t protect an A-list celebrity and run the department.”

“Then Marshall can step in,” he replied. “He did it while you were on vacation at Christmas.”

“For seven fucking days.”

“I do not want this woman dying on our watch. She’s the hottest ticket in Hollywood—hell, the world—and my wife’s father has recommended us. Happy wife, happy life,” Josh said pointedly.

Couldn’t he just go down on her instead?

Wasn’t going to say that though. I value my balls right where they are. I might be former Delta, but very few people fuck with Josh Hawke.

Doesn’t stop me trying from time to time, of course.

So what’s my problem with Savannah Sinclair?

Nothing personal. I don’t know her, and I don’t watch her chick-flick movies.

I took on this BHS role understanding I’d be leading the division and occasionally doing some high-profile bodyguard work. Meaning the client was potentially a target. Think politician or high-value businessman like an oil tycoon traveling in the United States.

But I told Josh and Aidan I preferred not to protect women. They knew I had my reasons, and we left it at that.

An A-list actress with screaming fans and all the llama drama of Hollywood? No fucking thanks.

Then I read that she’s a diva which, sure, is probably untrue, but there’s a high possibility that it’s not.

She’s twenty-eight. Five foot six, long dark hair and big green eyes. And disgustingly beautiful.

I’ll be fighting off men and screaming girls.

Yah.

Give me a terrorist cell in Iraq any day.

I don’t mean that.

Probably.

So Savannah Sinclair is a guest and doesn’t yet know who I am. I could tell by the way she watched me while she tongue-fucked that damn grape.

Christ, my cock shot up in my pants before I realized who she was, and it’s not like three hundred people were staring at me as part of the wedding party or anything.

Is that the sort of shit she does regularly?

Am I going to have to deal with a seductress?

Great.

It looks like there’s something going on with her co-star, too. He had his hands all over her. She was coughing for god’s sakes. Not having a heart attack.

I tug down my white vest and head through the sea of people taking in the Black Hawke Security crew around the perimeter.

Marshall, a former Texan Green Beret, steps out of the tree line.

“You’re not working, Ryder. Get lost,” he says.

Smart ass.

“Just need a break.” I slide my hands into the pockets of my pants and watch the last of the guests sit down at their tables.

There is a wall of trees—or rather trees in planter boxes—separating us, and I do just that. Draw in a deep breath.

“Can’t believe some of the celebrities here today,” Marshall says, gripping the sides of his black BHS vest and rocking on his heels. “Nick Marciano and Savannah fucking Sinclair. Damn, she’s hot.”

See.

This is the shit I’ll have to deal with.

“Keep your dick in your pants.” I roll my eyes and glance around. “And your eyes and ears open.”

“Stop working and go have fun.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “We’ve got this.”

Of course he does.

He’s a smug Green Beret. In fact, our whole team is top-notch former paramilitary operators.

He’s also right. I need to get back in there. So I head back across the now empty clearing to join the wedding reception and focus on enjoying Josh and Cassy’s special day.

I’ve already decided I’ll only do this bodyguard gig for six weeks, then I’ll convince Josh we need to put someone else on it.

I head down the side of the trees and am about to round the corner when I sense movement.

I freeze.

Then Savannah Sinclair plows into my chest.

“Oh fuck,” she says, gripping my shirt and her damn green eyes lock with mine.

I don’t dare lift my arms and touch her.

“Step back,” I say roughly.

She frowns. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to attack you.”

“What?”

Is she kidding me right now?

I almost laugh.

“You look like you can defend yourself,” she says, patting my shirt and finally letting go to take a step back.

My reaction was automatic. You don’t smash into a man with my background. Adjusting to normal life takes time after you’ve been in enemy territory, and I don’t think I will ever be the way I was before I joined the forces.

But that wasn’t why I asked her to step away.

I knew the moment I saw that grape slide between her teeth, Savannah was a woman I’d enjoy fucking. The kind who would love me to lift her around my waist as I pressed her against the wall and yanked her panties aside so my cock could fill her wet pussy.

If I touch her, I’m not sure I’d want to stop.

So my hands are staying put.

But if Savannah Sinclair thinks I’m going to be one of her adoring fans, she has another thing coming.

You look like you can defend yourself.

She’s confident.

Well, so am I sweetheart.

“From women throwing themselves at me?” I smirk. “I think I could handle you.”

Then I wink and circle around her to rejoin the party.

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CHAPTER TWO

SAVANNAH

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I think I could handle you.

I can’t get the arrogant—but gorgeous—man’s words out of my head.

We watched each other all night. Well, I watched him while Nick teased me.

In truth, the groomsman barely looked my way again. It was refreshing, actually. But he did look, and when his eyes weren’t on me, I still felt them.

In fact, I can still feel the ripples of his muscles under my fingers from having them on his hard chest. And, my god, he was even more stunning up close.

Step back.

His voice. Lord. Every syllable thrummed through my body right into my sex, making me so damn wet I’m still surprised I didn’t orgasm on the spot.

Maybe I’m exaggerating, but I’m not sure I am.

I was mesmerized.

While everyone around me flirted shamelessly with Nick, I waited for the blue-eyed groomsman to ask me to dance.

Or slip me his number.

He did neither.

“He must be gay,” Nick said at the end of the night as we were driven home in a limousine.  

“He’s not gay.” I shook my head.

I knew he wasn’t.

I’m not used to being rejected by men. I was popular in high school despite not dating a lot and hit on frequently at the diner where I waitressed. Now as a famous actress it’s like a whole other world.

So while I was admiring the gorgeous man, it was refreshing to desire someone and not feel creeped out by a crushing fan.

That novelty has well and truly worn off.

By the time I got home and used my dildo, I wanted that deep timber voice in my ear and his enormous body on top of me.

Damn.

If he’s interested, he’ll find a way through common connections to get me a message. The chemistry between us was so hot, I’m almost certain he will.

I’m patient.

I’ll wait.

I slide my feet into my nude-colored Louboutin’s and take one last look in the mirror. I’m wearing a white pantsuit that plunges between my tanned breasts, a little inappropriate for daywear. But I’m a movie star, and this is what we do. The legs are fitted and finish slightly above the ankle where a tiny star tattoo sits.

I had it done when I was twenty-one.

I promised myself the entire time it was being done I would make it in Hollywood, and I have.

Scooping up my tote bag, I head down my sweeping staircase. Today my new bodyguard starts, and I want to chat with him first before we launch into what will be another long, busy day.

Memories Of Us was such a hit they signed Nick and me up for the sequel, and we went straight into production just weeks later.

Memories of You launched last week, and it’s so much more intense this time around. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly grateful for all of it. Heck, it’s paid for the Hollywood Hills mansion I now live in.

But it’s a lot.

We’re on a media tour and interviewed day in and day out about the movie, who I’m dating, if I had a nose job, and what I’m wearing.

Oh, and if Nick and I are a couple.

It’s a weird mix of being adored by people who don’t know you, who think you’re the character you just played, and criticism. As if I’m someone important who is responsible for world peace.

I wanted to act.

But the expectation to look beautiful twenty-four seven, the entourage, and the lack of privacy are part of it.

My heels tap on the floor as I reach the foyer and head toward the front door. I punch in the code on the security panel and it unlocks.

I pull it open and blink as my eyes adjust to the Los Angeles sunshine...and to the man standing with his back to me and his arms crossed.

Surely not.

He turns and my eyes lock with his bright blue ones, just as they had on the weekend, and my mouth falls open.

It’s him.

“Ms. Sinclair,” he says, uncrossing his arms and slowly walking toward me.

Like a lion stalking his prey.

My heart pounds as I realize he knew. He knew all along. He knew I was his client, and he didn’t say anything.

This is a game for him.

My wide eyes narrow as he nears, but I’m so mad the pounding of my heart is deafening in my ears.

“Ryder St. James.” He reaches out his hand and one corner of his lips is lifted.

I was right. He finds this amusing.

My eyes dip to his hand, and damn him, I can’t help but notice the roped muscles on his thick powerful forearm or the sexy tattoos.

I quickly shake his hand, not wanting to show how affected I am.

Who am I kidding?

It’s his job to notice everything and the almost imperceptible smile on his lips tells me he is fully aware how attracted to him I am.

A man like him? He knows exactly what’s happening between my thighs.

Damn it.

“Please come in,” I say, releasing his hand and stepping aside.

Ryder drops his sunglasses. “No ma’am. The schedule says we’re due at your first interview in twenty minutes, so we need to get going.”

God, he looks hot in those shades, but hot or not, Ryder St. James is about to get a lesson in boundaries.

I am the boss here.

Not him.

His game playing days with me are over.

I lift a brow, turn, and walk back through the house to my living room.

And wait.

It takes him less than a minute to figure it out. I hear his boots before I see his solid thighs and wide shoulders appear.

“Do we have a problem?” Ryder asks, planting his hands on his hips.

“I thought you’d prefer this conversation to be in private—”

“Unlikely. But continue,” he says dryly.

Ugh.

This isn’t going to work out. I will need to get him replaced. Ryder is far too dominant and, my god, too sexy to work with me so closely.

I don’t like his attitude or arrogance. I mean, I do. In my bed, not in my business.

I cross my arms. “Ryder St. James, I don’t know how you’ve worked in the past, but in my business, I set my schedule, and I am in charge.”

“No.”

“Sorry?” I ask, shocked.

“No ma’am,” he repeats.

“Stop calling me ma’am.” I splutter, and god, I hate that he’s unraveling me.

“As your bodyguard, sticking to your schedule is important to providing you with the best protection. Changes need to be run past me.”

“Like fuck,” I snap.

He smirks.

I narrow my eyes and take five firm steps closer so that we’re only about three feet apart.

“I. Am. The. Boss.” I repeat. “You work for me. Whatever game you were playing last weekend is over.”

“Game?”

Shit. Why did I have to say that?

“Forget it,” I mutter.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He’s making me lose control and enjoying every minute of it. Well, he can enjoy himself today because tomorrow someone new will be in his shoes.

“Look, I communicate very well with my team, but I will not be dictated by them. If you can’t accept those terms, then I’ll have you replaced.”

Which I am doing anyway.

As I stride past I’m sure I hear him ground out, “Please do.”

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CHAPTER THREE

RYDER

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I’m the boss.

I snort internally.

Baby, you couldn’t dominate a man like me if you were given the keys to the city.

I’m impressed that she tried, though. It was sexy as hell. I bet she’s a tiger in bed. One I wouldn’t bother taming because I like it just as wild.

I hold the door open as Savannah climbs into the back of the SUV, then I go around to the passenger side.

Jack, her driver, and I already had a good chat this morning while waiting for Savannah to get ready for the day.

While I’m on that topic, her outfit is completely inappropriate for...everything. I can almost see her fucking nipples.

I’m not complaining. I’d quite like to see them, suck them, and lick my tongue around them.

I can’t, of course.

We don’t fuck the clients.

On Saturday night, at Josh and Cassy’s wedding, Savannah Sinclair wasn’t technically my client—yet —and I’ve wondered more than twice in the past five minutes if I regret not taking her into the bathroom and fucking her up against the door.

Seeing her ass in her snug pantsuit when she stormed off has landed me on a big fat yes.

Too late now.

Whatever game you were playing last weekend is over.

The only game I was playing was don’t fuck the movie star client.

Plus, there were enough eyes on her without mine being added. I’m sure that’s the case no matter where she goes. Savannah is Hollywood’s it girl right now.

I wonder if she realizes Nick Marciano is in love with her. Or if they’re sleeping together, as the media claim. It’s hard to know with these actors. Sometimes that’s exactly what they want you to think.

I glance in the side mirror as we head through the gates and out onto the road. I also have my own rear vision mirror that enables me to view a number of angles in and out of the vehicle.

I lift my hand to adjust it to study the surroundings.

Then I find a pair of eyes watching me.

“Everything okay, Ms. Sinclair?” I ask, smirking.

Stop fucking looking at me like you want me to grip your neck and fuck you until you scream.

“Yes,” she replies and lifts her phone to her ear rebelliously. But she doesn’t look away.

Not for a second.

Sassy little tiger.

If my job wasn’t to be aware of everything around us, I would have held those green eyes until she broke.

But it is.

So I had to.

Savannah: one. Ryder: one.

Jack makes small talk with me while Savannah chats animatedly on the phone, but I’m more interested in what she’s saying.

“What? No. No way. I’m not playing a bumblebee.” She giggles. “I know it’s just a voice job. Sounds adorable, but I want more leading lady on-screen roles before I do kids’ movies.”

Her laughter runs through me, and I find myself wanting to hear her more. It’s infectious.

Happy.

Feminine.

I like it way too much.

“Okay, give it to me,” Savannah says and my eyes involuntarily close for a split second as I imagine her on all fours glancing over her shoulder, begging me to fuck her.

I rub my forehead and take in a car I see closing in on us from behind.

It overtakes.

“What?!” Savannah cries, and I turn around sharply.

She shoots me an irritated look.

“The Globes. Are you shitting me?” She laughs and throws her head back. “And Nick? No way!”

Jack glances at me as I settle back in my seat.

“You’ll get used to her.” He smiles.

Jesus.

I’m pretty sure a landmine going off is less comfortable for me at this point.

“The fans, not so much.” Jack laughs as we turn into the parking lot.

I open the door to the studio and Savannah struts in and starts dancing on the spot excitedly, then takes off like a rocket.

Christ.

When I shut the door, I find her wrapped around Nick.

I force back a growl.

What the hell is wrong with me?

What do I care who she climbs like a tree?

“The Golden Globes!” She dances while he spins her around.

I want to tell him to put her down, but Nick sees me and slides her down his body.

Dead man walking.

Settle down dude.

I clench my teeth and tell myself to get my act together as Nick frowns at me.

“Oh.” Savanah waves her hand at me without looking. “Ignore him. He’s in training.”

My brows lift and I see red. Training?

Fucking Josh.

I need to get off this client. I’m either going to throttle her or fuck her.

Might do both.

At the same time!

––––––––

FOR THE NEXT hour, I stand around watching Savannah’s entourage do their thing.

She has two assistants, Briar and Gina. Gina, I learn, is also her best friend and they’ve known each other for over ten years.

Briar spends most of the time sitting next to her boss, going over dates while Gina is on her phone or bringing her mineral water and coffee.

And flirting with Nick.

He loves it.

Two people work on Savannah’s hair—Ricco and Luis, his assistant—while Kali, her makeup artist, applies layer after layer, turning her into the movie star we see on screen.

The result is beautiful.

Even when she glares at me. I bet she’d hate it if I told her that it makes my cock twitch.

Nick sits nearby and they chat while scrolling on their phones. It’s amusing how focused they are on Hollywood gossip and what their fans are saying on social media.

“Tyler’s new hit missed number one. Sad,” Nick says.

“So sad,” Savannah says, and it’s obvious she couldn’t care less.

“Tommy’s Love? It was never going to get there.” Ricco, her hair stylist, shakes his head. “Why everyone thought it would, is beyond me.”

“I don’t like it.” Savannah shrugs. “It’s too melancholy.”

“The world is melancholy, babe,” Ricco says, then turns on the hairdryer, closing down the conversation for a moment.

Luis gazes like a lovesick puppy at Savannah. I can’t put my finger on it. He must be new, as he is star-struck or lacking in confidence.

Possibly both.

But since we arrived, he’s acted nervous around her.

Or maybe it’s me.

He’s a good looking guy, in his mid-twenties. The makeup gal, Kali, seems to get along with him. The two have chatted about some industry products or some shit.

As I study them all, they ignore me.

Gina is interesting. She perches on the bench between Nick and Savannah, and I watch her run her eyes over his body seductively.

He winks at her.

Then carries on.

When we arrived, I asked Savannah if her entire team had been through a thorough security check.

“Yes. Chill,” she’d replied and plonked down into her chair in front of the mirrors.

“Don’t I know you?” Nick had asked when the hairdryer finally stopped.

“No.” I widened my stance and Savannah glanced my way with pink cheeks.

Interesting.

She’s embarrassed.

“Babe. I’ve seen him before. Where?” Nick continues.

Babe?

Why the hell is he calling her babe?

I noticed I wasn’t the only one irritated. Gina’s mouth set in a hard line as I watched the team dynamics unfold.

It’s more than a crush. She likes Nick.

But Nick likes Savannah.

Savannah appears oblivious, but I wonder if that’s true. She’s way too smart for that. At that moment, though, she’s working her way through the embarrassment of Saturday night.

My lips twitch, but not enough to turn into a smile.

“He was at the wedding on the weekend. One of the groomsmen.”

“Get the fuck out. That was you?” Nick laughs.

That’s right, I’m the guy she wanted to fuck.

“What are we missing?” Gina asks, her head swiveling between us and her eyes narrowing at me.

“Nothing.” Savannah mutters. “Can you make sure the show is still running on time?”

Gina lets out a huff and jumps off the counter, taking off.

I watch her leave the room and wonder how their friendship withstands such a huge power difference. And financial if we’re being honest here.

Savannah is a superstar.

Her friend is her assistant.

How does that work?

I turned my attention back to Nick, who was still laughing. He knew Savannah.

Interesting.

But I can’t get a read on his humor. It’s almost like he thinks the whole thing is a joke. Like she would never have fucked the groomsman and certainly not her bodyguard.

He’s right.

She wouldn’t.

It would be a disaster if it leaked.

Josh also had an opinion the night of his wedding. He’d leaned in front of Aidan—we were seated side by side at the wedding table—and said, “Just in case we’re not clear, you can’t fuck Savannah Sinclair.”

Aidan choked on his smoked salmon. “Christ, wait until I’ve swallowed, will you?”

“That’s what she said.” I smirked, sipping my drink.

“Ryder.” Josh ground out.

“All I’m doing is sitting here and drinking my drink, Josh. Innocent as fuck.”

“While she shoots sex eyes at you across the room.”

“And yet, my dick is still in my pants.” I lifted my shoulder.

“Jesus, I’m moving seats,” Aidan said, wiping his mouth on his napkin.

“Tell him he can’t fuck Savannah Sinclair.” Josh nudged Aidan’s shoulder.

Talk about pot calling the kettle black. The guy had been sitting next to his bride, who’d very recently been a client.

The entire conversation was unnecessary. I had no intention of sleeping with her. Sure, I had enjoyed having one of the most beautiful women in the world watching me, but I valued my job.

Fucking a movie star I was assigned to was just asking for trouble. Me and trouble weren’t friends.

Both she and I had very solid reasons to keep our distance. And keep things professional.

“He knows,” Aidan replied.

“I do. And it’s a moot point,” I said. “She ran into me outside and I was clear with her I wasn’t interested.”

“Not clear enough. She has been watching you all night.” Josh shook his head.

“Well, some women find rejection a turn on.” I shrugged. I couldn’t imagine a man alive saying no to a woman like her, so it was probably quite intriguing.

“Do they?” Aidan asked, lifting a brow.

“Good one. Now he’s changing his Tinder profile.” Josh rolled his eyes as I laughed.

“If I walked over there and asked for her number, she’d lose interest immediately.” I sipped my drink and chanced a look her way. “But I’m enjoying the show, and it will make Monday morning quite amusing.”

I’d been winding them up.

I’d told Josh I would rather not guard women when I joined Black Hawke Security. We didn’t go into it, and he knew not to ask.

The answer was highly classified.

It also wasn’t a place I liked to revisit mentally.

So this was temporary while we waited for Josh to return from his honeymoon, and we restructured schedules.

I would be fine for a week or two.

Then again, while being a bodyguard to a celebrity has its risks, the chances of one being held at gunpoint by a man wrapped in a suicide vest were slim.

But never zero.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER FOUR

SAVANNAH

––––––––

Ryder leans against the wall off to the side of the stage and crosses his arms. He’s watching me.

Which is his job.

Damn stupid muscular arms.

Why is he so sexy?

And annoying.

I focus back on the interviewer and camera and push down my shame. Ryder knows exactly how attracted to him I am and that given the chance, I would’ve slept with him last weekend.

Not now.

Now I’m going to have him replaced. I can’t work with him. I want to fuck him. And throttle him.

He’d probably like it.

I bet he’s into a whole range of kinks.

Huh, stop thinking about having sex with your hot bodyguard.

“Savannah, do you think there will be a third film? Fans absolutely would love to see you and Nick on screen together again.” Sunshine Rivers, the interviewer from Hollywood Today, asks.

I turn to Nick and smile cheekily, playing it up to the audience as they clap madly.

He leans his arm behind my chair and stretches out his leg. “That would be great. Working with Savannah is a dream.”

“Aww, you two are adorable.” Sunshine sighs and the crowd loses it again.

“He plays a lot of pranks on me.” I slap his thigh and he catches my hand.

“So the rumors of the two of you dating are...?”

“Not true.” Nick kisses the back of my hand and wiggles his eyebrows. “Or are they?”

Everyone laughs, and I can’t help but shoot a glance at Ryder. He’s running a hand over his jaw, glaring at Nick. Beside him Gina whispers something to him and it gets under my skin.

She still likes Nick, and I’ve wondered if something ever happened with them. He doesn’t discourage her, and it irritates me. I don’t have any romantic feelings for Nick, but sometimes the flirting is awkward for everyone watching.

Especially when everyone knows he’s doing it with a dozen other girls, and Gina is making a bit of a fool of herself.

I can’t say anything to her—I told her he’s a player and she didn’t take my advice—so I was hoping my chat with him would have been enough.

Perhaps it’s one-sided.

Either way, I hope there isn’t a third movie because I’d like to see if her work ethic improves without him around. And I’m ready to take on some other roles.

The Golden Globe nomination is going to open doors, so I’ll wait eagerly for the announcement and call from my manager.

The rest of our set on the show winds up and Nick and I stand, wave to the crowd, hug Sunshine, and then walk off.

Gina hands me my water bottle and phone, and Ryder steps up beside me.

“Where’s my coffee, squirt?” Nick teases Gina.

I roll my eyes and drink from my bottle.

“What will you do for me if I get you one?” She giggles.

“We can negotiate.” He winks at her.

Fucking hell.

I start walking. “Gina, can you make sure the team has everything ready for tomorrow—”

“Fine, I’ll get you a coffee,” she speaks over me, crossing the line.

I stop in the hallway and glance between them.

“No. You won’t. Where is Cindy?” I ask Nick, referring to his PA.

“She had a medical appointment.” Nick leans over and kisses my cheek. “Calm down. We are just having fun.”

Calm down?

Ryder clears his voice and I glance up at him. Something on his face tells me to let it go. I draw in a slow breath.

“I’ll go sort the team.” Gina presses her lips together and walks off after giving me a droll look.

“You’re mean to her.” Nick bumps my hips.

“No, I’m not. She works for me. You need to stop encouraging her.” I start walking again.

“She’s a fan.” He shrugs as his phone rings. Then wiggles his fingers as he turns in the opposite direction to take his call. “Gotta go, babe.”

Ryder walks quietly an inch behind me as I keep my thoughts to myself. But I sense his support in an unspoken way, as if he was as unimpressed with that scene as I was.

Maybe I need to speak to Gina.

––––––––

LATER IN THE AFTERNOON, we head into my manager’s office for the last meeting of the day.

Michelle leaps up from her chair when she sees me. “Congratulations, honey.”

“Thank you.” I grin, hugging her back. She glances over my shoulder, and I follow her line of sight. “Oh, don’t worry—”

“About me. I’m in training.” Ryder’s deep timber voice says super deadpan.

“You don’t look like you’re last off the rank.” Michelle boldly looks him up and down.

“The terrorists in Iraq didn’t think so either. But Ms. Sinclair is the boss.”

My mouth drops open as Michelle snickers and walks back around her desk.

“You were in Iraq,” I say, then swallow.

Ryder crosses his arms. “You think they hire mall security officers to protect the elite across America?”

Michelle clears her throat and I swing my head back to her, then again to Ryder.

This conversation is not over.

Damn. I’ve offended him.

“Thank you for your service,” I say, and he snorts, unimpressed.

“You two can bicker later. Let’s talk about this nomination,” Michelle says, sitting back down.

I need to apologize, and I will.

I skip over to one of the chairs and do a little dance. “I can’t believe I’ve been nominated for a fucking Golden Globe.”

––––––––

A FEW HOURS later, I drop the box of fan mail on my kitchen counter while Ryder does his thing inspecting the house.

I’m still a little annoyed at him for trying to rearrange my schedule this morning. And for not telling me who he was last weekend.

But I was rude.

He did an excellent job today and despite wishing the world would disappear and he would rip off his clothes and then mine, I’m rethinking my initial reaction.

Maybe I won’t replace him.

Learning he was in the Middle East, fighting to protect his country, snapped me out my shame and silly attitude. I plan to apologize before he leaves.

I’m also stressed about Gina. Something feels off. It might be better if I tell her to find another job.

Working together has impacted our friendship more than I’ve been willing to acknowledge. Filming is intense and I guess I just hadn’t noticed how much we’ve grown apart.

In a nutshell, I’m her boss. The demands of my company are huge now, so the power balance is too large.

I hate it.

I want my friend back.

I’ve never been someone who had a lot of friends. Just one or two.

It was me, Gina, and Nicole. Then Nicole married the love of her life, a South African man, and moved across the world. She’s pregnant with their second child.

To say our lives are worlds apart in every way is an understatement. Neither of us hear from her anymore. Gina and I remained friends. She started working as an assistant, and I waitressed and went to audition after audition.

Then got offered the role of Charlotte and the rest is history.

Gina is my only friend outside of Hollywood. And it’s very hard to know if the new people I’ve met after becoming famous are real.

Nick, yes, but our friendship lacks substance. I can almost guarantee that if he needed to railroad me to get what he wanted, he would.

Michelle is my manager.

Briar is my personal assistant, but I probably trust her more than anyone.

It’s a dog-eat-dog world and I’m at the height of fame. The worst time to expect people to show their true colors.

I pull a bottle of wine out of the fridge and pour myself a glass. I sip the Californian Sauvignon Blanc and let the news sink in. I’m now a Golden Globe nominated actress.

Wow.

It hasn’t been announced yet, but if I had someone close I trusted, I’d tell them. Jack and Ryder obviously overheard.

This is the sort of thing I’d tell Gina—before she worked for me—and I suddenly feel alone and empty.

Ugh. My career might be amazing, but my personal life is a mess.

Maybe it’s just that I’m not making an effort. I swipe open my phone and hover over her name.

It doesn’t feel right.

I do not trust her.

Recently she’s made comments that lean toward a little nasty and envious. She was so supportive of me when I was waitressing, but now she acts like my family—she can’t stand seeing me succeed.

Telling her I’ve been nominated might just trigger her further. She’ll hear soon, but I don’t want her to be the first person I tell.

I put the phone down.

Man, I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t feel like this about your best friend.

I take a large sip of my wine, then pick the phone up again. Swiping, I find my mother’s phone number.

It rings and goes to voicemail.

A familiar sadness comes over me.

I’m not even sure if my own mother will have it in her to celebrate with me. She wants money. She’s angry I haven’t given it to her.

So, because I’m a sadist, and there’s no one else, I call my father.

He’s the one person in my life who never believed I could make it. Still, to this day he is yet to tell me how proud he is of me.

Instead, he makes fun of the movies I’m in, calling them “that low-class flick you starred in” despite the fact it broke box office records.

Well, Father darling, your daughter has been nominated for a Golden Fucking Globe.

How will you turn that into a failure?

I gulp down more wine as the phone rings.

The last time we spoke, he asked me to send money so Candy—I kid you not, that’s her name—could get a boob job. To help her back pain.

Jesus, as if I’m that dumb.

Maybe she should get off her back, my mother once said, and it was pretty funny.

“Well, you’re not ringing for money, so there’s that.” Dad says upon answering. Then sighs.

I shake my head slowly.

This was a mistake.

He can’t even say hello.

“Hey, Dad.” I take another big sip of the wine and walk to the fridge to pull out the bottle. I’m going to need it all tonight. “How are you?”

“Working double shifts to help Candy get this medical procedure she needs.”

Medical procedure?

I almost laugh.

I roll my eyes instead and put the cap back on the wine. “It’s a boob job, Dad. Not a medical procedure.”

“You have no idea how much pain she’s in. It's very selfish of you to not help out, Savannah.” He scoffs.

Oh, my god. I’ve met her twice.

“I don’t know her.” I remind him.

“She’s your stepmother.”

What?

“That...it doesn’t work that way, Dad. You aren’t married and I’m twenty-eight,” I cry.

He’s silent because he knows I’m right.

Does he think he raised a stupid child?

“What do you want Savannah? If you’re just ringing to rave about this silly film you’re in, then forget it. We’re not watching it.” His words puncture my heart painfully. “Not when you can’t even help your own family.”

Candy is not my family.

Fucking hell.

I drop my face and fight back my tears. Does he not care that his words hurt me?

The answer is no.

“It’s top of the box office, Dad. It’s not some silly film.” I say quietly, feeling like the vulnerable thirteen-year-old girl who was told she was making a fool of herself for all this acting and clowning around.

“Yeah, and most of those people are following the Kardashians. What can I tell you?”

How dare he?

Whatever you think of reality stars, he’s yet again trying to belittle my achievements and hurt me with that comment.

Every single time.

Why did I call him?

Why did I yet again put myself in a position so he could rip me off my pedestal? A pedestal I fucking earned with hard work and talent.

Fuck him.

“Well, some people think I did a good job, Dad. I’ve been nominated for a Golden Globe. That’s what I rang to tell you. Maybe I’m not useless after all.” I yell, then punch the screen unsatisfactorily with my finger, hanging up on him.

I slam the phone on the counter.

“Fucking bastard.” I cry as tears fall down my face.

I hate him.

I hate him.

I hate him.

“He is.”

I glance up and gasp when I see Ryder leaning on the doorframe.

“Oh god,” I say, wiping my face. “I’m sorry you heard that.”

“Some people are threatened by others’ achievements,” Ryder says. “Anyway, don’t apologize. He’s not the first narcissist I’ve overheard.”

I blink.

“You think he’s a narcissist?”

“I’m not a shrink, but yeah I do. They’re usually threatened by their overachieving kids.” Ryder shrugs. “Unless he lacks complete confidence in himself.”

“The opposite. He thinks he’s better than everyone else,” I tell him.

“Definitely a narc,” he says, pushing away from the doorway. “And congratulations on the nomination. It’s a big deal.”

God, I hate crying over my father. I’ve done it way too many times in my life and no matter how old I am or what I achieve, he still seems to find a way to hurt me.

“Thanks.” I smile and wipe my eyes again. “Ryder, I want to apologize for this morning.”

“For?” He frowns.

“Not just this morning. For the entire day. I was rude,” I confess. “I can’t tell you how many people control my life in different ways. No offense, but you don’t come across as someone who is collaborative.”

“I’m not,” he says and slides his hands into his pockets.

I try to ignore how attracted to him I am, but it’s impossible. His blonde hair has enough curl in it to transform easily into a broad chested surfy dude... and to slide my fingers through it if he kissed me.

He looks like he wants to kiss me.

And throttle me.

“Well, I need someone to work with me.” I shrug.

“No, you need someone to protect you. There are millions of fans, like those screeching hyenas earlier today, who want to get close to you.”

I fight my smile.

They do sound like hyenas.

Speaking of which, I glance at the pile of fan mail and a white envelope catches my attention for no reason.

I pull it out and flip it over.

“Well, those hyenas paid for this house and pay my bills, so I love them.” I snicker as I rip open the note.

I enjoy reading my fan mail. They usually say the same thing in different ways; how much they love me, how beautiful I am, and occasionally head into creepy territory about wanting to have my baby or marry me.

Nothing that I haven’t already read on the internet.

But if people have taken the time to write me letters and mail them, then I’ll read them. I normally read them on a Sunday evening, but I need the boost after speaking to my father.

While Ryder keeps talking, I unfold the standard white card...

Then freeze.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER FIVE

RYDER

––––––––

What is it with this woman?

Savannah Sinclair is one of the most beautiful women in the world, yes. Sexy, with the brightest green eyes I’ve ever seen. I’m talking, my-cock-is-hard-in-a-millisecond stunning.

She’s successful.

At the top of her game.

Adored by millions.

I get it. But everything she does gets a reaction out of me. I feel like I’ve been on a rollercoaster since the moment we met. I either want to fuck her or kill her.

Or kill someone for touching her.

Then I walked around the corner and heard her speaking to her father. I was two steps away and stopped.

The guy is an asshole.

Like any daughter, she wants his approval and to hear how proud he is. But a guy like him? He’ll never give her what she wants. Ever.

I know people.

I’ve studied them.

One way to ensure you survive in a war zone full of terrorists and psychopaths is understanding how they think. That includes narcissists and every other psychological disorder. The Middle East is full of them.

So is America and the whole damn world.

To one degree or another.

Don’t start me on the internet.

Seeing Savannah cry? Nope. That did not work for me at all. If she hadn’t hung up on her father, I was seconds away from doing it for her.

See what I mean?

Totally irrational thinking and behaving.

That’s not my job and yet I’m still considering doing a deep search for the asshole's home address. It’s been a while since I’ve worn my balaclava and snuck into someone’s home to scare them.

Anyway, you didn’t hear that from me.

Point is, Savannah is getting under my skin, and I don’t like it.

“Well, those hyenas paid for this house and pay my bills, so I love them,” she says and opens one of the hundreds of envelopes from her fans.

“Pretty nice house,” I say, nodding.

I’ve just completed a security check around the entire interior, so yeah, it’s a stunning property.

Her last team did a decent job installing a good security system. I’ll likely get some upgrades done to it, though.

Once she trusts me.

“How long have you been here?” I ask, focusing back on her face.

The fuck?

Something’s wrong.  

Either her dog died or her boyfriend broke up with her. She doesn’t have either.

“Savannah?” I press firmly.

“Huh?” Her head whips up to mine as I take a few steps closer and stop on the other side of the marble kitchen counter.

“What’s wrong?”

She looks back down at the note and folds it over.

“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “I need to have a shower. Are you done for the night?”

“What was on the note?”

She stares at me. I hold her green gaze and can almost feel the fear rolling off her.

“Show me the note,” I order her.

“Jesus, Ryder,” she says, waving the white paper at me. “This is what I was talking about. You have no boundaries.”

I reach across and snatch it out of her hand.

“Hey!” Savannah comes running around the counter as I hold it over my head and open it.

What the fuck?

She jumps in the air and tries to grab it, but I hold her off, hand firmly on her shoulder.  

“Is this the first one you’ve received?” I demand, taking in the crude message.

“Give it back!” She slaps my arm. Uselessly, I might add.

“Answer me.” I growl and toss it on the counter. Then I grab her by both shoulders and get in her face.

She’s pale and scared.

She should be.

“Is. This. The. First. Threat?” I growl.

She nods, her eyes filling and fucking hell if she cries again, I am resigning.

“It’s probably not real,” she whispers.

Jesus Christ.

“Well, maybe your security team could decide,” I growl. “What were you going to do? Put it under your pillow and hope it magically disappears when you wake up?”

“Don’t be a dick,” she snaps.

“I’m trying to keep you safe. But I’m in fucking training, so what do I know?” I release her and head over to the box. “This the envelope?” I hold up the white envelope.

Savannah nods.

I rustle through them and find a dozen or more in the same paper and style.

Great. It could be anyone.

“Ryder,” she says, and I close my eyes momentarily hearing my name on her lips so softly.

I turn.

“I meant what I said. Thank you for your service. I appreciate what you’ve done for our country.”

I shake my head.

“You have no idea the shit I’ve done,” I growl, continuing my search through the box.

I don’t know why I’m so angry with her. The fact she was going to fucking hide this from me has triggered me.

I’ve lost one female under my protection.

It isn’t fucking happening again.

“Go have your shower. I’ll see if there are any more, then take them back to the Black Hawke Security office to be analyzed.”

“Should we tell the police?” She wraps her arms around herself.

“Maybe. For now, we should keep this out of the press.” I point to the doorway. “Go. I’ll lock up behind me.”

I need her to leave before I fucking wrap her in bubble wrap and lock her up.

Not again.

Not fucking again.

––––––––

I PUSH DIAL on my steering wheel.

“What? I’m on my honeymoon,” Josh says, and I can hear the grin in his voice.

“Aidan isn’t answering. Savannah Sinclair has just received a threat.” I grunt.

He curses. “Tell me.”

I glance at the envelopes sitting in a plastic bag on my passenger seat. On the white card, in capital letters, it simply said:

STOP FUCKING NICK MARCIANO OR I’LL EXPOSE YOU

Josh is silent as I update him.

“Is she?” he then asks.

“Not as far as I can tell. I’m confident she’s not.”

“But they’re actors,” Josh says.

“Sure. But they’re also pretending they’re fucking. Or at least teasing the media,” I grunt.

“Could be a crazy fan,” he says. “Get it tested and if we lift any prints, we can go from there.”

Standard procedure for our team.

Which is why I’m on my way there now.

“Is this the first one she’s received?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, turning my SUV into the Black Hawke Security, or BHS as we call it, parking garage. I switch off the engine and jump out, then head to the elevators and punch the button.

“Keep me updated. I’ll be home in a week, but you have the resources of the whole team. Tara might be able to get prints, otherwise we’ll send it out for DNA,” Josh says, referring to our new lab manager.

While the BHS lab is much simpler than what the police have access to, we have contacts at the local university who can do us favors if we throw enough cash their way.

And we do.

DNA matching can take months, but the university lab can do Rapid DNA in a few hours. It’s not admissible in court, but I’m not a lawyer, so...

If I have a name, I’ll do what needs to be done to protect Savannah.

Even if she is a pain in my ass.

“Enjoy Hawaii.” I hang up.

Cassy, his bride, won’t be happy I called, but she knows what he’s like. He was her private security when a convict who’d stalked her for years escaped from prison. We caught him, but not before the fucker took her.

No one was surprised when Josh proposed and married her quickly. He’s very protective of the rock star’s daughter.

The doors open and I step into the BHS offices.

Penny, our office manager, has already left for the day. No wonder, given it’s already after seven. I can hear a few keyboards clicking and noise from the gym, so there are a few people still around, including the tech team on the late shift.

“Hey, gorgeous,” I say to Tara as I walk into the lab. “You still here?”

“No. I am a figment of your imagination. And, by the way, immune to your charms.” Tara rolls her eyes at me.

Liar.

She isn’t.

Tara is your typical scientist. Doesn’t dress sexy compared to someone like, say, Savannah, but it’s obvious she’s hiding a hot figure under her lab coat.

She started a month ago and everyone is under strict instruction from Josh to not date the lab tech.

Tara is pretty and I’m not blind, but there’s no spark between us. Unlike my sexy as hell client, who I can’t stop thinking of.

In the last five minutes I’ve imagined Savannah climbing into bed naked and wonder if her legs are spread and her hand between them. If she’s thinking of me while sliding her fingers inside her wet creamy pussy.

Ryder, you dick, she’s more likely worried about having a threat just mailed to her.

Or I could be right.

I’m right about the way her eyes roam over my muscular body and dip to my cock. More than once. More than fucking five times today.

And hell, if that doesn’t constantly wake up what I’m trying to control.

I need to focus. I need Tara’s help, and while she might be immune to my charms, we love a good banter together.

The others just grunt and try to avoid her.

Josh can be a scary motherfucker.

But he lost some credibility when we learned he was sleeping with Cassy Cartwright. Something I, for one, will never let him live down, even if he has married her.

Never miss an opportunity, I say.

“You wound me, sweetheart!” I clutch my chest and Tara chuckles.

“What are you working on?” I walk closer, turning serious.

“Pulling some fingerprints from that break-in last week.” She looks up from her sample. “Dante Russo.”

Dante is a significant businessman we provide security for. He had his office broken into. An inside job. We should be able to wrap that one up easily enough.

And when I say he’s significant, I mean he lives on the edge of the law, so it’s unlikely we’ll be calling in the cops on this one.

“Okay, but I need you to look at this tonight for me. Or first thing in the morning.” I hold up the plastic bag with the card and envelope inside.

She pulls off her disposable gloves, tosses them in the trash, then pulls on a new pair as she walks over. Then takes the bag from me and holds it up to eye level.

“These stalkers are not creative writers, are they?”

I snort.

“Try harder, stalkers.” She shoots me a grin and wanders back over to all her fancy equipment.

I don’t know what it cost to set this up, but it would have been substantial.

“But yes, Ryder, I will help you. Leave it with me and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Think we can get some DNA?” I ask.

She glances up again. “You know the answer to that. If there’s something here, I’ll find it. If not, you’ll need to get the research team to do some digging to find out where the card and envelope could’ve come from. Looks stock standard to me, unfortunately.”

I did know all of that.

“Thanks, gorgeous.” I turn to leave.

“Stop trying to be charming.” She scoffs.

“Never,” I say over my back, and open the door. Then I step back out into the hallway and nearly collide with Aidan.

“Hey.” I stop.

“What’s up?” He uses a towel to wipe his forehead. He’s in a pair of shorts and t-shirt. His tattoo down the side of his thigh on full display.

“Good work out?” I ask, then we both start walking toward his office.

“The usual,” he says, tossing the towel onto his gym bag. Then he rips off his t-shirt and I get an eyeball full of his six-pack and all the rest of his tattoos.

“Sorry, I’m taken.” I smirk, leaning on the doorjamb.

“No, you’re not. Who would put up with your annoying ass?” Aidan shoots me a grin.

“Not Ms. Sinclair, I can tell you that.” I shake my head.

“She a diva?” he asks, pulling on a fresh singlet top.

I want to say yes, but the truth is, I don’t think she is. I hurt her ego by ignoring her at the wedding and then showing up this morning. So, her comments throughout the day were just a dig to gain some of her pride back.

I let her have it and never expected an apology.

Hearing her on the phone with her father completely stripped away any remaining judgment.

“Nah. She’s beautiful and a good person. Fuck it.” I let out a laugh. “I can’t stay on this job, Aidan.”

He sips from his water bottle and watches me. “Why not?”

“Because I’m a red-blooded man, is why not. Plus, there’s shit I can’t—”

“You’re a highly trained operator, Ryder. Jesus, probably more so than Josh and me. Don’t give me that bullshit,” he says and takes another sip.

Fuck.

I push away from the doorjamb.

I wasn’t happy with the client choice to start with, but now I know I need to step away. The situation has changed.

She is in danger.

Of course, I’m highly fucking trained.

But I’m also the wrong person and I’m not explaining why. I can’t. As a US Marine, Aidan will read between the lines.

“When I started, I told Josh no women.” I cross my arms and look him dead in the eye. “Savannah received a threat in the mail tonight. I gave it to Tara for forensic testing.”

“Shit.” He curses and runs a hand over his face.

“We need to move me off this job,” I tell him, then drop my arms. “You need someone else doing this, Aidan. I’m not the right person.”

I turn and walk out.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER SIX

SAVANNAH

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I toss and turn, unable to sleep, and then flop onto my back, staring into the dark. My mind is racing with a million different thoughts. Which is not surprising given the day I’ve had.

I received a threat.

STOP FUCKING NICK MARCIANO OR I’LL EXPOSE YOU

The thing is, I’m not.

Who thinks they have evidence to prove otherwise?

I’m rattled, but not worried because Nick and I have never been sexual. But with AI and clips from our movies, things can be put together to make anything look like...well, anything.

The question most on my mind is why would someone want to do this?

This kind of thinking is a road to insanity.

With tens of millions of fans, it could be anyone.

I sent Michelle a message telling her what happened, and she told me not to worry about it. That these things are part of being a star.

I know that after a few years in the game but can’t help but feel there’s something off with it.

Ryder seemed to agree.

I try to focus on my good news. HUGE news. I’m nominated for a Golden Globe for best actress. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever believe this could be possible.

All I ever wanted to do was act and make it my paid profession. Now look at my life.

I’m so proud of myself.

Then I recall the call with my father and sadness descends over me as I curl up in a ball.

What is his fucking problem? He should be proud of his daughter.

Some people are threatened by others’ achievements in life. Even parents.

Sigh.

Ryder. Like a rock, he took over tonight and told me to have dinner and go to bed.

God, he’s so handsome. Like drop dead gorgeous, melt your panties, and please fuck me so hard I can’t think handsome.

I tried all day to control my body’s reaction, but every time he opened the car door and I had to brush past him, every time he glanced my way—doing his job—and our eyes met, my tummy filled with butterflies.

Despite being rude to him, he was kind when he saw me in tears, and I won’t forget that.

You need someone to protect you.

He takes my protection seriously and after receiving that creepy note tonight, it’s time I did, too.

Perhaps having someone to protect me is a good start. I’m tired of doing this on my own. Some days I want to collapse on someone’s chest and just cry. To not be strong all the time. To not be beautiful and perfect.

And for a moment, when Ryder was talking to me about my dad, I felt myself wanting him to be that person.

Talk about desperate.

He’s my bodyguard. It’s his job to protect me. I pay him. He was just being nice.

I can lust over him, but thinking he’s my friend is just pathetic.

I roll onto my side and slide my hand between my legs. A buzzing sound alerts me to my phone ringing.

I roll over and reach for it.

Ryder.

My chest tightens, wondering if something is wrong, so I swipe and answer. “Hello.”

“Hi,” his deep voice says, and I clench my thighs together.

God, even his voice is sexy over the phone. I swear I could orgasm if he spoke dirty to me right now. I slide my hand back between my legs and inch my way up to my silk sleep shorts.

I shouldn’t.

But I do.

“Savannah,” Ryder says as I nudge them aside.

“Yes.”

“Just letting you know I’ve got our team doing forensics on the note.”

I close my eyes and press my fingers inside my pussy.

“Okay,” I say and even I can hear my voice is different. But god, it feels good.

Naughty.

“You all right?” his timber voice asks.

Jesus.

“Yes.” I need to stop this. “I’m in bed.” Oh god, I shouldn’t have said this.

He goes quiet.

I circle around my clit, imagining that Ryder’s in bed with me. His hand slides inside my shorts and helps himself.

Without apology.

A man like him would take without question.

“You should’ve let it go to voicemail,” he rasps.

“Yes.” I clear my throat and slide two fingers inside.

A little noise escapes by accident.

Shit.

“Savannah,” Ryder says. “Do you feel safe?”

Does he know?

Is he offering to come over and touch me?

Lord, I’m imagining things.

“Yes,” I reply. “Yes.”

I’m not answering him. I’m lost in this lust of touch and his voice.

“I’ll come back,” he says roughly.

“No...yes,” I reply. God, he can’t come back and see me like this. I’d leap on him.

Shit. I feel my orgasm surfacing, my hips lifting off the bed.

“I have to go.” I moan, tossing the phone as I hang up.

Then I rip my shorts off and tug my vibrator out of my drawer.

Oh, god.

A part of me wishes I’d said yes to him coming back. What would he do if he found me?

Would he find me with my legs spread, pleasuring myself, and then climb between them, lapping at my juices?

I plunge the toy inside me and rub my clit eagerly. Desperately.

Would he pull out his cock and slam into me, telling me he is here to protect and please me?

Oh god. I need to come.

I need him to fuck me.

Hard.

Powerfully.

With a dominance I know he possesses.

“Fuck,” I cry as pleasure explodes inside every cell in my body.

I drop the black toy onto the duvet and pant as I slowly drift off to sleep. Dreaming and fantasizing about my bodyguard.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER SEVEN

RYDER

––––––––

What the hell was that? I walk into my bathroom and ask the question over and over.

I was not fucking imagining it. There was lust in Savannah's voice.

Not lust. Arousal.

Did she have someone there when I called?

No. The guards would have texted me if someone arrived. That’s how our system works.

I strip off my shirt and jeans and turn on the shower.

There’s no way.

Stepping under the hot water, I pour the shower wash over my body and soap up.

No fucking way.

I grip my balls and wash them, my cock hardening as I try to convince myself what just happened isn’t just a fucking wet dream of mine.

The image in my head as I hear her rough, almost shuddering voice replaying in my head is like a porno.

My own personal fantasy.

I don’t care that she’s famous. Those green eyes caught my attention the first time I saw her. If she wanted to get on her knees and suck me off while watching me with those long dark lashes, then I wouldn’t say no.

I’d do more than that.

I’d wrap her long, dark hair around my fist and fuck her throat until she was gagging and begging me for her next breath.

Is she touching herself right now?

Jesus fucking Christ.

I stroke my cock, wondering how she does it.

With a toy?

My fucking god.

With her fingers? Fuck me. How wet does she get? Does she like her pussy licked? Does she wish I’d shown up and finished the job?

My hand strokes faster, picturing Savannah with her legs spread, working herself as I am now, and her wet hot glistening cunt needing my cock.

“Fuck,” I cry as come spurts from my head into the shower.

The only question I really need to ask here is why she answered the damn phone.

I know the answer.

She wanted to hear my voice as she came.

And that changes everything.

We both know it.

––––––––

THE NEXT MORNING I’m on my way to Savannah’s when Aidan phones.

I answer. “Ryder St. James.”

“We never finished our chat,” he says.

“Tara won’t have the information back until at least midday,” I say, knowing that’s not what he meant.

“It will be up to Ms. Sinclair if she wants the police involved. But I agree, keeping it tight is the best decision right now.”

“Agreed,” I say. “I’ll get more information from her today about who might have a motive.”

“Find out if she has any enemies. Or who wouldn’t want her with Nick Marciano,” Aidan says.

“You mean, aside from his fifteen million Instagram fans who want to have his baby?” I laugh.

“God that must be weird.”

I recall the phone call with her father and add him to the list.

“Her father is an asshole, but I doubt he’d send it. Could be the girlfriend.” I share my thoughts out loud.

“She has a girlfriend?”

“No, the father’s girl.” I shake my head.

“Shame. That would’ve been a hot fantasy.” He laughs.

I snort but want to punch him. He can get that fucking idea out of his head. Savannah is not his to fantasize ov—

Woah.

That’s not good. She isn’t mine either. She has millions of fans jerking off to her every night, so I’m out of luck. But I know what happened during our call last night and it was not my imagination.

It’s stuck in my mind and my cock has been at half-mast all morning.

Still, Savannah belongs to her fans and if she died on my watch, I’d be one hated man. I already hate myself after watching a woman die. A woman I was responsible for keeping safe.

And it’s a reminder I need to get off this job.

“Aidan—”

“Yeah, I heard you, Ry. Let me look at the roster. I’ll come back to you tomorrow,” he says.

I nod, although he can’t see me.

“I’ll call you if I learn anything important. Oh, and she’s been nominated for a Golden Globe. It’s not public knowledge yet, but I bet there are a handful of people who do. Could be relevant.”

“Could be,” he mutters, then signs off.

I pull into her driveway and nod to our BHS guards. There are two of them. One does an hourly perimeter check, and her cameras are monitored by our team back at headquarters.

“Morning boys.” I grin.

“Ryder.” They smile back.

“Anything interesting happening?” I inquire.

“Nope. Except watching Savannah Sinclair parade around in her bikini before going for a swim an hour ago.” Asher, who is a former Army Ranger, snickers.

I lift my brows.

Is that what they’re doing? Spending their time here perving on her?

I see red and feel my temper rising.

A complete overreaction, but I’m not great at hiding my expression so Asher pales.

“Come on, dude,” he chimes while Cole chuckles silently and walks off to do the perimeter check.

He gives me a nod, which I return.

“Keep your eyes off her.” I punch in the code before I say something inappropriate.

The gates start opening.

I don’t like how territorial I’m feeling about her. It’s more than just sexual chemistry.

Way more.

Fuck it.

As I press the accelerator on my car and start driving up to the house, I let myself recall the last time I was responsible for protecting a woman.

I had to watch her step into view with her baby in her arms. Sounds sweet enough.

It wasn’t.

A man—her Iraqi husband—was wearing a suicide vest and holding a gun to her head. The baby was screaming while she trembled and stared at me, pleading for help.

He waited just enough time for me to take it all in. Her fear. Their deaths. Her punishment for betraying him. Then he detonated the vest and the three of them exploded.

Right in fucking front of me.

She’d trusted me.

Just as Savannah is trusting me.

She shouldn’t and I can’t go through that again.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER EIGHT

SAVANNAH

––––––––

He doesn’t know. There is no way he could know.

I lift my coffee to my lips and sip as Ryder walks into the kitchen. Our eyes lock.

Shit, he knows.

The liquid burns my tongue and I drop the mug, cursing as it splashes on my top.

“Morning.” His voice is thick and sexy.

“Hi.” I reach for a towel and wipe the coffee from my white silk blouse.

It does nothing. I need to get it off fast or it will stain.

“Can you turn around?” I ask.

“What?”

With my fingers, I do the turnaround motion. “I have to strip.”

His eyes widen, but he spins, so I rip off my top and plunge it under the running cold water.

“Where is your team?” he asks.

“Meeting us there,” I say, dabbing the delicate silk.

“How did you sleep?” Ryder asks, and I clench my eyes closed.

He absolutely knows I was pleasuring myself like a horny creep while on the phone with him last night. Damn him.

I glance over my shoulder, well aware I’m standing in my kitchen wearing only a bra and short pink skirt, and find him facing me.

His eyes drift lazily down my body.

I wring the top out and then curse as I realize I left the tea towel on the marble counter behind me. Well, he’s now going to get a good eyeful of my white lacy bra and tits.

If he’s seen my movies, he’s seen them wrapped in lingerie before. As millions have.

So why am I stalling?

Because I touched myself thinking about him. I crave him. We have this unspoken chemistry, and I’ve just ripped my top off.

That’s why.

And why is he still here? He could have left.

I spin around and Ryder’s eyes dart straight to my breasts, then up to my face. For a long second we stare at one another, the air supercharged around us as sparks sizzle.

I know then it’s not just me.

He feels this too.

The water from the top drips down onto my leg and snaps me out of it.

“I need to put this in the wash.” I lift it in the air and head through a door which leads to the laundry room.

I find the stain remover and spray the coffee mark, then drop it into the washer, filling it with laundry powder and turning it on.

When I turn to leave, Ryder is in the doorway.

I swallow.

Deep in his eyes, I see all the desire he’s been hiding. His smirks are gone, and all that’s left is a dominant man forcing himself not to touch me.

He takes a couple of steps and I tug my bottom lip between my teeth.

“We need to talk,” he says roughly.

“Why did you phone last night?” I ask. Those steel blue eyes roam around my face, and this time, I take a step closer to him.

“Why did you answer?” he rasps.

Because I wanted to hear your voice and have you in my bed with me.

“I shouldn’t have.”

He pulls in a sharp breath and dips his eyes to my breasts. I feel my nipples harden.

“Fuck.” Ryder wipes a hand over his face.

Suddenly, I need him to touch me. Badly. My body is still a thrumming pool of need despite coming last night.

But I wasn’t fulfilled. Not like I could be. Not like this man could make me feel.

“Touch me.” I hear the words fall from my lips.

“I can’t,” Ryder growls. “I need you to get dressed.”

I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m never this brazen but I know with my last breath that if we leave this room, the opportunity presenting itself will never happen again.

I reach behind and undo my bra, letting it fall to the floor.

Then I unzip my skirt.

“What are you doing?” His voice gruff.

“I need to change my entire outfit,” I whisper as my skirt slides down my legs.

I step out of it.

“Fucking hell, Savannah,” Ryder growls, taking in my thin white lace thong, which barely covers me.

Aside from that, I’m only wearing a pair of blush heels. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so brazen and sexy in my life.

He could reject me.

He could even laugh.

But he doesn’t. He fights with himself, glaring at me as I close the distance.

“I better put some clothes on then,” I say when I’m right in front of him.

He’s at least a foot taller than me and almost fills the doorway with his broad shoulders and chest. My face arches up and I breathe in his masculine scent as he pants.

When he doesn’t react, my eyes drop, and I start to move.

Ryder’s hand snaps out and catches mine down at our sides.

I still. Waiting.

His eyes drift from mine down to my breasts and I watch his nostrils flare.

“Take your panties off.”

Fucking hell, I nearly come right there and then.

He releases my hand as I slide the lace down my legs and begin to kick off a shoe.

“Leave them on.”

Okay, well, that’s sexy. But Jesus, does he not know how tricky that is? These heels are seven inches long.

Oh.

Ryder lifts me off the floor and the lace flutters to the floor. My eyes fly to his in surprise and he smirks.

Good god, this man is fire.

Next minute, I’m on the washing machine as it vibrates away, and he has his hands on my breasts.

“Spread your legs wide.” Ryder instructs and leans me back. Then his fingers are at my sex and I’m moaning. “Is this what you were doing last night?”

Holy hell.

“Yes,” I whimper as he leans over me. He slides them through my flesh, helping himself to all of me, and then circles my clit.

“You’re soaking wet, Savannah.” Ryder lifts his hand to his mouth and sucks his fingers.

“Oh, Jesus.” I moan, my body now trembling with need.

“Sweet like honey.” He pulls them out. “Tell me what you need. What do you want?”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“No.”

I blink, surprised.

“I’ll fuck you. I’ll lick you until you come.” He pinches my nipple and I groan. “But this must remain between us, or I walk away.”

Neither of us wants this to be public. I can’t have people knowing I’m banging my bodyguard, and his company doesn’t allow their staff to act inappropriately with their clients. I saw it in the small print.

And I’m pretty sure this would qualify.

I’m naked on top of my washing machine while his fingers stroke my pussy.

“Choose,” he demands.

What?

“Do you want me to fuck you or lick you, Savannah?”

Both. I want his mouth on me. I want to feel his cock inside me. I want all of him. Not just once.

I already know this won’t be enough, by the way his expert fingers run through my folds.

I reach out and run mine over the roughness of his jaw and he stiffens.

Why won’t he kiss me?

He’s wanted me since the second we saw one another. I know that now. Ryder is just better at hiding it.

“I want your cock,” I tell him, and his eyes glower and nose flares.

He’s so masculine.

Stepping back, he tugs off his shirt and I see the head of his cock peeking out above his pants.

Fucking hell, that means he’s big.

I’m trying to take all of him in. His huge tanned and tattooed chest, his six-pack, the V leading down to what I know will be heaven.

Good lord, he’s perfect.

Ryder unzips and pulls out his hard thick cock and my mouth waters.

Perfect.

“Play with yourself. I want to watch while I rubber up.” He instructs me, so I reach between my legs and slide my fingers around.

“Fuck, you’re sexy.” He snaps on the condom.

Then he takes over, stepping back between my legs, and tugs my core firmly against his dick.

When I gasp, he grips my neck.

“I fuck hard, Savannah.” Ryder promises, and two of his fingers enter me. “I need to know you can take me.”

I’m not sure I can, but I’m going to do my best.

His mouth is close to mine, teasing me as his fingers fuck me.

“Do it,” I pant.

I need him.

I need him to fill me, fuck me, and make me come so damn hard I’ll never forget.

“Good girl.” He grunts and swaps his fingers for the head of his shaft. “Relax for me.”

Oh hell.

He presses in and I draw in a breath, gripping his thick shoulders. “Yes. Oh god. Yes.”

“Suck in my cock.” He inches in farther as I close my eyes. “Take me in your tight, wet cunt, Savannah.”

Oh, god. I’m not going to lie. It hurts, but I’m not a quitter.

“More.” Ryder pushes, and then pulls back, thrusting once more. I groan, and with his hand still around my throat, his eyes locked with mine. “You like that?”

“Yes.”

“Can you feel me thick and deep inside you? Fucking this pussy?”

“Yes.”

The washing machine changes its vibration and Ryder speeds up. His eyes are intense as his body slaps against mine.

“Look at those tits as I fuck you.” He growls. “Clench my cock. Milk me, sweetheart.”

Slam, slam, slam.

“Is this what your pussy needed last night?” He taunts, watching me with his dark aroused face.

“Yes.”

“Fuck,” he cries. “Did you use your fingers or a toy?”

I wrap my legs tighter around him and feel myself start to get close.

“Both, shit, Ryder, my god. I’m going to come.”

“No,” he says, then pulls out.

What the hell?

––––––––

RYDER

––––––––

I pull out of Savannah’s pussy and lean down. This is only happening once, and I need to taste her.

I had no idea how fucking good she’d feel, but I’m not wasting this opportunity.

I lap her juices and groan.

“Oh fuck,” she cries and out of the corner of my eye I spot a large chair.

This washing machine is getting out of control.

I lick her pink glistening pussy once more, taking what I want from her, then slide my hands under her ass, lifting her.

Then I walk over to the chair as she clings to my shoulders, asking what I’m doing.

Sitting down, I position her over me.

“Sit on my cock,” I order.

“You’re crazy,” she says, gripping me tighter and lowering herself onto my engorged cock once more.

“Yes,” I moan. “Fuck, you feel good.”

She does. Her channel is fucking tight, and I know I’ll be dreaming of her pussy for many nights after this.

“Jesus you’re even bigger like this.” She tries to lift off, but I stop her.

“Don’t think so, sweetheart. Get back down on my cock. You belong to me right now.”

She cries out, but her moans are full of desire and pleasure.

I can’t believe she fucking stripped and offered herself to me. I’ll probably get fired, but right now I don’t goddamn care.

This has to happen.

We had to fuck this out of our systems.

“I warned you,” I growl. “You take me all or none. Now. Hold on.”

Her eyes fly open as I lift her hips and piston my cock in and out. Savannah finds her momentum as my thrusts speed up, her breasts bouncing wildly.

Heat slices down my spine as her lips part. She’s ready, I’m ready. Our bodies dance together creating a delicious friction I knew would be possible the first moment I saw her.

One I want to repeat, and I haven’t ejaculated yet.

I cup her breast, lowering my mouth and sucking her nipple.

She arches and tightens further.

When I feel her tremble, I know it’s time.

“You can come,” I say. “I want to feel your pussy contract around my cock as you come.”

“Yes, yes, oh god, oh god.”

She’s close.

I force my hips up, slamming into her.

“That’s it. Such a naughty girl taking your clothes off because you wanted to be fucked.”

“I’m so naughty.”

“You like being a naughty slut?”

“Yes,” she screams, and fucking hell, my balls tighten and a shock wave spears down my spine.

Come shoots out of me into this forbidden pussy.

Jesus.

I just fucked Savannah Sinclair.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER NINE

RYDER

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Savannah pants against my chest as I tip my head back and curse at the ceiling silently.

I’m not going to fucking regret this, but there will be consequences.

She lifts her head, sits up, and meets my eyes.

The shirt I’d tossed is on the floor, so I reach down.

“What are you doing?” she asks and then lets out an oh when I wrap it around her.

“You aren’t walking through the house naked,” I answer roughly.

Something feels weird. Inside me.

You belong to me.

No, she doesn’t.

“It’s fine. I do it all the time when I’m alone.” She says, but still slides her arms through and wraps the cotton around her as she climbs off my cock.

I don’t want her doing that anymore.

I grip the condom and slide it off, knotting it. When I stand, I guide her back into the kitchen.

“I’ll use your bathroom upstairs and then retrieve my shirt. Go get dressed.” Then I pat her sexy ass.

The cheeky smile she gives me makes me frown. But she dances away before I can gather my words.

Jesus.

I fucked Savannah.

That was not the plan when I walked into the kitchen. Then she ripped her top off. Then (!!) she removed the rest of her clothes, standing before me with her bare breasts and a slither of clothing over her pussy.

I’m not that strong.

Which is a bullshit excuse.

But nevertheless valid, as any man will attest to.

Maybe I let it happen because Aidan is replacing me. Maybe I just wanted to have her once.

What’s done is done.

I just need to get through the day and get off this job. I flush and clean up, then lean against the wall outside her bedroom.

Three minutes later she walks out, then stops.

“Why didn’t you come in?” she asks.

“It’s your bedroom and I’m your bodyguard,” I clarify.

This is as good a time as any to have The Chat.

“You just had your mouth on my vagina.” Savannah frowns.

Christ.

“Nice.” I grab my shirt out of her hands and put it on. As I’m doing up the buttons, I lift my eyes to hers. “That is not happening again. And I’d ask you not to mention it to my bosses.”

I see the flicker in her eyes.

“Will you get fired?” Savannah leans against the door jamb.

No.

“Yes.” I tell her.

It’s possible, but unlikely. Josh is one of my closest friends. As is Aidan now. We see each other less but there’s still a loyalty and friendship there.

Savannah takes a step and places her hands on her chest. “Why wouldn’t you kiss me?”

“That’s not what this was.” I stare down into her green eyes and take her hips in my hands.

Those lips of hers are very fucking kissable, though.

“I’m not asking you to marry me, Ryder.” Savannah laughs. “I just want you to kiss me.”

“Not happening.” I glance past her. “We need to go.”

When she continues to stare up at me with mischief in her eyes, I lift her up and carry her down the damn hall.

It just makes her giggle more as she throws her arms around my neck.

Give me a landmine any day.

This woman is way more lethal.

––––––––

THE MOMENT WE step outside the front door, Savannah changes.

Like a chameleon.

She’s once again a Hollywood starlet and I’m her bodyguard.

I sit in the front seat while she chats on her phone, and I cast my eyes around us. Jack makes random comments about the weather and baseball.

I nod.

And I watch Savannah in the mirror.

I watch as she waves to her fans as we arrive at The Selena Hendrix Show, a daytime talk show, venue.

I watch as she gets her hair and makeup done and changes into a stunning strapless dress and heels that I’m sure she is going to topple over in.

I watch as Gina and Briar race around after her, sending messages and coordinating a million different things and people. Her beauty team sprays and primps and dresses her over the next hour, and before I know it, she’s standing and looking at me as if my opinion counts.

“You look gorgeous,” Briar says, taking a photo. “Instagram?”

“Yes.” Savannah smiles, giving her permission.

Then her eyes swivel to Gina, who slides her hands in her jeans pocket.

“Looks good,” the girl says, but it feels forced. “Do you want a coffee after?”

I wonder if there is still tension from yesterday but don’t pay too much attention. I’m not interested in friendship dramas.

“No, thanks,” Savannah replies.

She barely acknowledges me, and moments later, she steps on stage. Yet again I’m waiting from the sidelines as she becomes every inch the celebrity.

The crowd is instructed to applause, and they go wild.

Savannah is the hottest actress in America right now and from the moment she wakes up to the time she gets home at night, she doesn’t stop.

Except when I fucked her.

You’d never know it happened. Aside from that one look seeking approval for her outfit—which I refused to give—she’s been professional and cool with me.

I don’t like it.

I want her lips red and swollen, parted and begging me to fuck her.

Again.

But it’s a reminder that Savannah Sinclair has far more than me to lose if our secret got out. We both have big motivations to keep our mouths closed.

It would hardly be a good look for her to be fucking her bodyguard.

And that irks me.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I slide it out. Someone shoots me a look and I mouth sorry then swipe the message.

Aidan: No record match from the lab on the note. Probably just a crazy fan.

Ryder: I’ll talk to Savannah tonight about who she suspects.

Aidan: You didn’t do that this morning?

Shit.

No, sorry I was fucking her on the washing machine. My bad.

Ryder: She had something on.

She had me on.

On top of her.

Aidan: Roger that.

The crowd goes absolutely insane as I pocket my phone. I glance over at Gina in question, and she rolls her eyes.

Are these two really friends?

“Lunch with Nick and Savannah in LA. Darina Smith, you are the winner!” Selena, the host, announces.

Darina, the winner in the audience, freezes as her mouth drops open. It looks like she won the damn lottery. Perhaps she feels like she has. Then Darina stands and tears begin to fall down her face as she shakes.

Jesus Christ.

Everyone else is screaming insanely.

“Ugh,” Gina says quietly so only I can hear. “People need to stop believing they’re a couple. They are so dumb.”

I glance down at her. “It’s just PR right?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, but he has a girlfriend.”

Does he?

I hadn’t heard that.

“Who?” I ask Gina. She hushes me, which isn’t required, but I turn my focus back to Savannah, who is smiling but not happy.

Her eyes find me in the shadows, and I take a step out without thinking. I mouth what’s wrong? But the producer notices and finally the host takes control.

“Okay, okay.” Selena waves her hands, calming the crowd. “Stay after the show and we’ll get you more details.” Then she looks back at Savannah. “So, wow.”

“Yes. Wow.” Savannah fakes a smile once more. “Wild.”

What the hell is going on?

“Well, we have a clip of your new movie. Let’s take a look.” Selena says into the camera.

As the video clip plays, our eyes meet one more time and I know she is ready to get offstage.

I’m itching to go to her and find out what’s wrong. I fucking hate it. Which makes no sense, as she is not in any danger.

A few minutes later Savannah stands, waves at the crowd and then walks off set as they go to a commercial break.

“Get me the fuck out of here,” she growls as she passes me and Gina without another word.

I immediately close ranks and move everyone with my outstretched arm as she strides through the hallway down to her dressing room.

Briar and Luis are still there, but everyone else has left.

“Out, out,” Savannah says when she opens the door. They look startled, glancing up from their mobile phones. “Out!”

“What’s wrong?” Briar gasps.

“I need everyone out,” she repeats. “Please.”

Gina stands back but reaches for her bag and doesn’t argue. I guess she knows her friend well.

Briar and Luis grab their bags and give me a concerned look as I step in and check the room.

Unnecessarily but it’s my job.

“Is—” Luis starts but stops when Savannah glares at him.

With my inspection done, I follow them both out the door and pull it closed.

“What happened?” Briar asks as Luis and Gina lurk a foot away.

I shrug and stand guard outside, grinding my teeth together. I want to know if she is all right, too, but it’s none of my fucking business.

“No idea. Head out.” I simply say.

“Let’s go,” Briar says, nudging Luis and Gina with her. “Tell Savannah I’ll call her later.”

I nod as they walk off.

Then I wait.

I wait and wait, but the longer I stand there, the more agitated I get.

Fuck this. Fuck feeling like this and not knowing what’s damn well wrong with her. I face the door, ready to open it, then turn back.

I can’t intrude on her privacy.

The clock ticks some more.

Nope, fuck this. I rip open the door and freeze. Savannah is standing in the middle of the room holding another white note, staring at it.

Naked.

I curse and close the door quickly.

“What’s wrong?” I demand, going to her.

Green eyes lift up, and I can see she’s terrified.

I take the card from her and read it.

NOW I HAVE YOUR DNA BITCH

“My panties are missing.”

Motherfucker.

“Jesus.” I curse and pull her naked body into my arms and hold her until I feel her trembling body calm somewhat.

“You really need to stop being so naked around me,” I rasp into her hair.

She lifts her face from my chest, and I brush her hair off her forehead. My brain reels as I realize someone was in here, took her underwear, and left the note.

There were a lot of people—at least twenty people—inside her dressing room at one point. All coming and going, but all of them people with access and security clearance.

Savannah begins to shiver, and I relax my hold on her. “Put your dress on and cancel the rest of your appointments.”

“I can’t.” She shakes her head. “Unless I’m in the hospital in a coma. Trust me. I can’t.”

Goddamn it.

“Fuck. Okay.” I don’t bother arguing. I’m no expert, but I figure she is locked up tight in contractual agreements and obligations. She’s already implied that once or twice in conversations.

I glance around and realize I still have her in my arms. I take her chin.

“Tonight, we’ll discuss this in more detail. For now, I don’t want you worrying. No one is getting near you. Or past me,” I say. “But you aren’t walking around Los Angeles with no panties on, so we need to stop and get you some.”

She frowns. “My dress is longer than my knees. It’s fine.”

“Not. It’s not,” I growl. “My mouth was on your vagina, as you so boldly put it earlier, and I will not have you flashing it around Hollywood.”

A hint of a smile touches her lips. “Kiss me and I will put panties on.”

I lift a brow, but I want to smile.

God, she’s persistent.

“No.”

But because this might be the last time I get to touch her, I slide my hand down over her bare bottom and cup it.

She lets out a little gasp as I lean close to her lips. “Get dressed.”

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TEN

SAVANNAH

––––––––

Who the hell is leaving me these notes? It’s one thing getting fan mail that’s a little unhinged, but taking my panties and leaving a note saying they’re going to taste me is...

That’s terrifying.

Also, I fucked Ryder.

A lot is going on.

Oh, and that crazy bitch Selena from The Selena Hendrix Show decided to throw me a surprise by giving away a VIP lunch with Nick and me, which wasn’t approved by me or my manager.

I don’t do private events with fans.

I discussed it with Michelle and told her I didn’t feel comfortable.

If I decided to do them, it sure as fuck wouldn’t be something we’d give to Selena fucking Hendrix.

The value of a private lunch with me and Nick is enormous. I’d want to use that opportunity to raise money for charity or bring awareness to an environmental issue.

Not The fucking Selena Hendrix Show.

God, she’s an asshole.

There is no getting out of it. It happened in front of two hundred people, and if we don’t follow through, it will be all over social media.

She trapped me.

My lawyer will be calling them tomorrow once I can catch my breath after reading the stalker note I found in my dressing room.

They took my panties.

How fucking disgusting.

Who the hell is it?

I’ve read about stalkers, and knew it was a possibility, but actually living it is completely different.

My mind is racing, trying to work out who it could be.

If it wasn’t so obvious, I’d think it was Selena. It still could be. But even this is too low for her. She nearly cost me my career. The day I auditioned for the role of Charlotte, she was walking in as I left. For someone much more famous than me, she certainly has it in for me.

One would say she was threatened.

It was only that the hiring team thought I was perfect for the role, which made them call through to my manager to inquire about the porn videos I’d starred in.

The ones which don’t exist.

Bitch.

No one was impressed with her behavior, and when my manager told her we were aware of what she’d done, no apology followed.

I ended up telling Nick halfway through filming the first movie. We’d gotten close, and our media schedules had been distributed, including going on her show as I’d done today. He insisted we do the show together. As a bigger star last year, he had that kind of pull. I didn’t.

This year I thought the entire thing was water under the bridge.

Nope. She’s still a bitch.

How dare she pull that shit? This time I am taking legal action, and she can finally learn not to fuck with me.

So was it her?

Maybe. But was it physically possible? I just can’t see how.

Ryder keeps shooting me looks in the mirror. He has since day one—which was yesterday, I remind myself—but now his glances have a mix of desire and concern in them.

We park across from Macy’s, and he tells Jack to run in and buy me a pair of cotton panties. “Just get one of those packs of three or whatever.”

Jack drags his eyes from Ryder to me in disbelief, and I bite my bottom lip to stop from giggling. Jack is my dad’s age, so he must be so uncomfortable.

“I’d go in but...” I shrug. “He won’t let me.”

“I can’t leave her.” Ryder hands him a twenty-dollar bill, surprising me again. “Go. We have five minutes.”

“Umm...” Jack looks up from the money.

“Extra small please.” I tell him and he climbs out of the car. “Ryder, I can pay for my own panties. The fact I have a twelve-hundred-dollar bra on is proof.”

“The fact that your face is on every billboard in America right now is proof.” He replies and settles back in his seat.

Is it bad that I really want him to kiss me? That my body has been low-level humming all day, wishing he would touch me even though I know he can’t.

That the entire time my team was fluffing around doing hair and makeup, and I was pretending to ignore Ryder, all I wanted was for the room to clear and for him to lift me onto the counter and crush his mouth on mine.

God, I want that.

I’m living in this weird mix of fear about this stalker and lust for Ryder. It’s very confusing.

I fucked my bodyguard.

I’m not sure how to feel about it. Except needy for more. Much more. I’m determined to make him kiss me.

I know I shouldn’t...but he’s the most gorgeous, sexy man I’ve ever seen in my life.

“You know this isn’t necessary. I wouldn’t be flashing my bits around Hollywood, as you put it. I mean, you saw my pussy—it’s not flapping.”

“Jesus, Savannah.” Ryder rubs his hand over his face.

I smirk, knowing I’m getting under his skin.

It was totally on purpose.

“Tonight, we should talk about what happened.”

“No, we shouldn’t,” Ryder replies. “We’ll be focusing on much more relevant matters, such as whoever it is threatening you.”

I feel my phone vibrate on my lap and turn it over. “Hey, Nick.”

“How was cow face?” he asks.

“Well,” I start and then tell him about Selena offering the giveaway to the audience.

“The fuck?” he cries.

“I was put on the spot. I couldn’t say no.” I shake my head as Jack climbs back in and tosses me the Macy’s bag, then we hit the road.

“No way she would’ve pulled that if I was there,” Nick spits.

Hmmm.

Maybe.

He doesn’t know about my stalker yet and I want to tell him, but for some reason I wait.

I catch Ryder watching me in his mirror, and we lock eyes while I keep talking. His eyes are pure sex. Watching them glisten when he slid his cock inside me this morning was intoxicating.

But there was something missing—a lack of intimacy, a coolness. Yes, it was a rough and wild fuck, and what I wanted. What we both needed. But Ryder was removed emotionally.

Perhaps it’s because of his past in the military.

I might want him, but the last thing I need is any rumors about me sleeping with my bodyguard, so I drag my eyes away and focus back on the call.

“I’m going to speak to Michelle and will be speaking to my lawyer. Selena Hendrix has gone too far,” I tell him.

“You have to act. I’ll have my own legal team send something too. Selena is out of line. Who the fuck does she think she is—aside from the biggest daytime talk host?”

Yes, well, there was that.

Still, there would be legal implications for her and the production company, so if she thought Nick and I were going to take this lying down, she’s dreaming.

Then I’m reminded of another concern I have.

“Nick,” I say, “yesterday with Gina. I need you to be clear to her that she isn’t your PA.”

“Babe,” Nick says. “It’s no big deal.”

It is. She’s my assistant and keeps running around after him.

“Tell me you’re not fucking her.”

“You told me not to,” he says, and it’s not an answer. Before I can call him on it, my phone beeps with a second call.

I glance at the screen.

It’s Michelle.

“Gotta run. I’ll see you in New York tomorrow afternoon for the Tonight Show.”

“See you tomorrow, babe,” Nick says.

As I end and take the next call, Ryder’s eyes narrow at me.

He really doesn’t like Nick.

I spend the rest of the drive updating Michelle about The Selena Hendrix Show. We agree the lawyers are best to take the lead on this. But she’s furious on our behalf.

Finally, the day is over, and we arrive home.

“I need to ask you some questions to see if we can identify who is leaving these notes,” Ryder says, following me into the living room.

“I need to eat.” I let out a tired sigh.

We stare at one another, an invisible thread tugging between us. I crave his touch. I want him to walk to me and wrap his arms around me.

To kiss me.

To pleasure me as he did earlier.

I can see in his eyes he desires more but is fighting it. His jaw is taunt, and I watch as his hands curl.

“What happened this morning—”

“Was a one off. I won’t let it happen again,” Ryder says.

“Tell me why you wouldn’t kiss me,” I press.

“Fuck, Savannah, I shouldn’t have even touched you.” He walks right up to me and groans as his hand cups my face.

Then drops away.

“No one needs to know,” I whisper as my breathing speeds up.

Kiss me.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER ELEVEN

RYDER

––––––––

I step back and glance around the room.

As much as I’d love to scoop this beautiful woman up, lay her down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, and fuck her for two hours, I can’t.

I have a job to do.

Savannah Sinclair has a stalker.

Yesterday’s note was a question mark.

Today was a full stop.

Taking her panties and leaving such an obvious message was clear. Someone is obsessed with her. Honestly, I get it. She’s beautiful, charismatic, charming, and funny.

When Savannah walks into a room, all eyes turn on her.

Mine never leave her.

Then again, it’s my job.

At least, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

“You eat. I’ll talk,” I tell her, as I increase the space between us.

“No. I’ll make us dinner and we both eat,” Savannah says.

“That’s not necessary,” I reply.

I need to keep this strictly business. Even if it’s a little late for that.

“Don’t be silly, you need to eat too.”

She has a point, so I only hesitate for a moment before nodding and then follow her into the kitchen.

Savannah kicks off her heels and pulls a few things out of the fridge, including a bottle of wine. Lifting it, she offers me a glass.

Technically, I’m off duty now that she is home, but alcohol equals lowered willpower and I need all I have around this sexy woman.

All of it.

“Come on, Ryder. Chill out. It’s one glass with dinner.” She juts out her hip and I force back my smirk.

She can be so fucking sassy when she wants to be, and I like it way too much.

“Fine. One glass.”

This woman is playing me like a fiddle and I’m here for it.

Goddamn it.

Before long, she’s whipped up a chicken salad and the most delicious, heated bread rolls with lashings of butter.

I sit at the dining table and dig into the salad. “Did you empty the contents of your fridge into this?”

Savannah laughs, swallowing her mouthful and placing her hand over her lips. “I don’t like boring salads.”

“Strawberries.” I hold up my fork.

“Go in salads.” She finishes the sentence I didn’t know was incomplete.

“Apparently. Fuck it's good.” I dive into the bread roll and try to remember what I’m doing here.

This is not a date.

After Savannah ran upstairs to get changed into a pair of denim shorts and a long-sleeved white t-shirt, and I wiped my chin off the floor, Savannah told me the backstory to Selena Hendrix. All the drama.

So far we haven’t got to the purpose of me being here tonight. Although, I’m slowly working my way through the members of her team and getting a handle on the people in her world.

There are a lot of them.

“Kali has been with me since the first movie,” she tells me, sipping her wine.

We’re on our second glass. This wasn’t my plan but getting her to focus and talk while she’s working would never happen.

Tonight, Savannah is relaxed and opening up as if we are two friends having dinner. I’m not her friend. I am her bodyguard.

And the man who fucked her on the washing machine this morning.

The man who wants to flip her over, tug down those Daisy Dukes, and slide my cock inside her pussy again.

Once is a slipup.

Twice is on purpose.

This woman is getting under my skin, and while I should be speeding up the process to get me replaced and confessing that I slept with the client, I don’t know if I want one of the other guys here.

I don’t know if I can go back to the office or another job and ignore the natural instinct in me that wants to protect her.

Didn’t go well last time did it.

Shit. Fucking brain.

“You okay?” Savannah asks.

“What about Ricco and Luis?” I prod, ignoring her question. “Are they new?”

“No. Well, yes. Luis is. Ricco’s old assistant left about a year ago. Then I hired Gina midway through filming the second movie. She’s my best friend.”

She’s already mentioned that.

I watch as her eyes drift away and study her.

Interesting.

The dynamics between the two women are interesting and I need to dig further.

“You didn’t want to hire her?”

She hesitates to answer, playing with her napkin. After a long sigh, Savannah says, “She lost her job. I did feel pressured to offer her a job, but it was the least I could do. Briar needed some help and I think Gina’s doing an okay job. When she’s not offering PA support to fucking Nick.”

I hear the resentment in her voice.

“You think it’s her?” I ask, lifting my brow.

Savannah’s eyes shoot up to mine. “No. God no. She had a crush on Nick, and I told him to stay away from her. I think she’s still hoping he’ll fall in love with her.”

“Like millions of other women,” I state.

“Exactly.” She shrugs. “He doesn’t help. He loves the attention, and it just bugs me.”

Because...she has feelings for Nick herself?

I should ask the question but if she does, she won’t answer me honestly after this morning. If she doesn’t, I’ll know by observing her.

As long as I can keep a neutral point of view about her.

I can.

I think.

“It will pass. When this media tour is over and I start on a new movie, she’ll crush on someone else.”

“Except Gina didn’t seem to like you giving her direction.”

She shakes her head. “We’re friends. It’s difficult.”

Is it?

The way I see it, there’s nothing complicated at all. Gina is her employee and needs to do her job. Or maybe I’m just used to a military environment where people do their fucking job, or someone loses their life.

Or job.

I reflect on what I know about Savannah’s life so far. Her family doesn’t support her and, in fact, believes she should be dishing out her money. Her best friend is taking advantage of her. And her co-star is disrespecting her request to stop behaving in certain ways with her employees.

She has an enormous fan base, and many believe she and Nick are a couple. A woman in a prominent media position has a poisonous and jealous dislike for Savannah.

Last, she’s one of the most desired women in the world.

It could be anyone.

Someone she’s not even aware of.

Often, that can be the case.

“Stalkers aren’t necessarily criminals.” I wipe my mouth with my napkin. “They can go undetected for a long time, if not forever.”

“That’s terrifying,” she says, sitting back in her chair, nursing her wine.

“Which is why you have a bodyguard.” I wink.

“Do you think it’s serious? Should I be worried or just take it in my stride and remember this is part of being in Hollywood?”

I hold her eyes for a long moment, then nod.

“Yes, I think it’s serious. Or at least there’s a strong possibility it could be. If it was just the first note, I would’ve said no, but taking your underwear shows a darker side to this person’s psyche.”

In other words, they are fucked up.

I watch as Savannah begins to unravel. She drops her wineglass on the table and her head falls into her hands.

The urge to go to her, pull her into my arms and tell her I’ll protect her is so damn strong I have to force myself to stay in the chair.

Christ.

If she was a man, I wouldn’t be even thinking about it.

She’s a client. She’s a client.

But reassuring a client is part of my job, so I can voice it at the very least.

“No one is getting past me, Savannah.” I growl softly. “I mean it.”

Her eyes lift and god the vulnerability in them is palpable.

Which must be why I add, “If you didn’t notice, I can’t take my eyes off you.”

Fuck.

Goddamn mouth.

“Because it’s your job.” Savannah's voice is no more than a whisper.

A shiver runs through me. The sun is going down and the light in the room has shifted. It’s more intimate now and I realize I’ve stayed later than I should have.

My jaw twitches as I force back every natural instinct. “Sure. Let’s stick with that, sweetheart.”

She smiles softly, knowing as well as I do that’s bullshit. Then glances away and stands, taking our plates from the table.

“I was a waitress for a long time,” she tells me as I grab the condiments from the middle of the table and follow her into the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah?” I say, glad to move on from that conversation. “I bet you got your ass pinched a time or two.”

Don’t talk about her ass.

Savannah smirks over her shoulder.

God, she’s fucking sexy.

“About a million times. I worked a lot of late shifts.”

“That’s dangerous.” I frown, reaching over her to put the mayonnaise in the fridge.

“Well, I couldn’t afford a bodyguard then.” Savannah turns to me, and I slowly close the fridge, noticing how short she is in bare feet.

And adorable.

“On the bright side, no one was threatening me.” Her eyes lock with mine and they are full of lust.

Ignore it.

“We’ll find them.” I overpromise.

The truth is, we may not. But I make myself a promise right there and then. I’m not going to let any harm come to Savannah Sinclair.

Unlike the last woman I promised that to.

Her eyes roam over me and I stay deathly still. As if I’m lying in the desert under enemy fire, trying to stay alive.

I’m not sure it’s too different.

This woman is a risk to me.

“Well, if you won’t kiss me, then the least you can do is help me load the dishwasher.” Savannah winks.

“I’ll do you one better,” I say, glancing at the stools behind us.

Then I lift her up as she squeals and place her pretty little ass on one of the stools.

“You sit here and write down a list of people you think could want to rattle you while I do clean up.”

Her smile is too fucking sexy as her head swivels and follows me over to the sink.

“Ryder St. James, admit it. You love carrying me around.”

Yeah, I do.

––––––––

AN HOUR LATER, I’m leaning on the counter beside Savannah, and we’ve gone through a long list of people who might have a reason to threaten her.

It’s an emotional task.

One I’ve been through with many clients before.

No one ever wants to believe someone they know, and certainly someone they believe loves them, would do this.

But it happens.

More than people realize.

“I don’t know.” Savannah shakes her head. “My dad’s girlfriend wouldn’t have access to the studio today.”

“People can be paid,” I tell her. “You focus on the who, and we’ll work out the how.”

“It’s not Nick, obviously,” she says, crossing his name off.

It could be.

Babe.

I mentally uncross it. For all we know, he could be setting her up. People do insane things.

Clearly, I don’t like the guy. I don’t like him teasing her. I don’t like him touching her. I don’t...want him near her.

Irrationally.

Also on the list, she’s put Selena Hendrix along with her mom, dad, and sister. There were a few tears as she wrote them, which I ignored and stacked the dishwasher.

Now it’s done.

We have at least twenty people to look into. I plan to send it to the BHS team to dig into key suspect backgrounds and activity for the past few weeks.

Longer if necessary.

I straighten and Savannah spins on her stool. I glance down and Christ, even her painted toes are gorgeous.

That’s not a foot fetish. I just find every inch of this woman sexy as fuck.

I lean my hand on the counter and Savannah runs her eyes up my bare tattooed arm. My shirt came off hours ago, leaving me in a short-sleeved black t-shirt.

“What do your tattoos mean?” she asks.

Huge question.

Her fingers reach out and she sends a shiver right to my damn dick. She runs a circle over the Greek symbol for Delta on the inside of my forearm.

We all got them.

By all I mean the members of my team, which never existed.

Same page?

Good.

“That one there means I have the skills necessary to keep you safe.” I lean in and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Better than most men, sweetheart.”

Crap.

I’m fucking useless at keeping my hands off her.

Those big green eyes lift to mine and she swallows. I can read her damn mind.

Shit.

I shouldn’t be here still.

Two bottles of wine and a sexy woman I had my cock balls deep in twelve hours ago.

“No.” I say, and as I go to move her hand reaches out and grips my t-shirt.

I grab her wrist.

“One kiss. I’ll never ask again,” she purrs.

I groan.

“Savannah, if I kiss you, I’m fucking you. End of story.”

“Okay,” she purrs again and tilts her head.

I shake my head and press my eyes closed, searching for the willpower I used to believe I had a whole lot of.

Maybe it runs out when you get older.

Jesus, I’m only thirty-three.

Or maybe she’s a witch and I’m done for.

“I need to protect you. Fucking you will just distract me.” I attempt to reason with her.

Reasoning with a seductress. Good one.

There are reasons we have these rules, and while I’ve now broken them and will one day confess to Josh, I know they’re necessary.

I clear my head and remember why they are important. I won’t let my cock get in the way of keeping this beautiful woman safe.

The chemistry between us is off the charts. I should’ve known she wasn’t the kind of woman you sleep with and the itch is scratched. The moment I sunk inside her, I knew she would be my cocaine.

Dream pussy.

But the more time I spend with her, it’s becoming clear to me; Savannah Sinclair is not the kind of girl you fuck. She’s the one you fall in love with forever.

The world has.

I don’t doubt there are men in her stardom world who will soon swoop in and steal her heart.

I’m not stupid.

She’s a movie star.

A former Delta operator, now bodyguard, is not exactly the type of man Savannah Sinclair is expected to be associated with romantically.

And I’m not looking for a wife.

I’m wealthy, for reasons that we don’t need to go into, but not in the same league as Savannah or the leading men in the movie industry.

This is her world.

This is what she’s chosen for herself.

I’m not getting involved with a woman I can’t have, can’t be seen with in public, and would have to stand back and watch with other men.

Acting or not.

I’ve had a taste of that today with Nick the Dick.

Her knee brushes my cock.

“Oops,” she says, sucking her finger slowly into her mouth.

“Goddamn it, Savannah.”

My cock hardens as I drop her wrist then grip her face with my hands.

We pant heavily as sparks ignite around us.

The delight in her eyes infuriates me as I pull her off the stool and up against my body.

“If I’m going to kiss you, I’m kissing your pussy,” I ground out. “And I already did that today, so you need to. Go. To. Bed.”

Fuck.

I need air.

I need to think and breathe and get away from this seductress.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TWELVE

SAVANNAH

––––––––

I make Ryder check my upstairs area and bedroom one more time before he leaves.

He accused me of trying to get him into my bedroom, but I felt his hard cock, so I know he wants me just as much as I want him.

What I don’t know is why he’s holding back.

Job rules aside.

No one needs to know.

If I’m fucking you, I can’t protect you.

“Given we fucked in my laundry this morning, I don’t think I would go to the trouble of getting you into my bedroom.” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed while he checks the ensuite bathroom.

Damn, he looks good in his tight jeans and t-shirt.

I don’t think I’ve seen sexier arms. All that roped muscle and, lord, those tattoos have me squeezing my lady bits.

His enormous frame appears in the doorway and blue eyes land on me as my legs dangle over the edge of the bed.

Suddenly I realize that he’s leaving, and I sober, knowing I’ll be alone in the house.

Ryder notices.

“The guards are outside,” he rasps.

I feel bad because I can see he’s fighting with the need to protect me. Emotionally and physically. It's in his nature.

“I know.” I nod, forcing a smile.

“You can call me. And you have the emergency button,” Ryder says, walking over to the side of my bed to find it.

“It’s fine. Today just scared me.” I climb off the bed and stand in front of him.

He’s so tall and big and powerful. I’m not going to lie; I feel safe when he’s with me. Perhaps that’s why I’ve been so cavalier tonight. I don’t want him to leave, and now Ryder probably thinks I’m trying to seduce him.

He’s right.

It’s both.

“We have a big day tomorrow,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets so he doesn’t touch me.

I dip my eyes to stop my smile.

What would it be like to wake up in bed with a man as gorgeous as this?

To have him climb on top of me and make love, knowing I’m loved and protected.

Well, not loved...maybe loved.

Loved would be amazing.

Not Ryder.

Or...anyway, not him.

It can’t be him.

The world I live in now would never accept that.

“Yes, flight leaves at nine.” I nod, meaning the private jet which will take us to New York.

His eyes roam my face, and he takes a step closer as I press my eyes closed. His large, warm palm cups my cheek.

Kiss me.

When I open them, dark hungry eyes gaze down at me. My heart pounds.

Kiss me.

“Go to sleep.” He finally says thickly, and my eyelids flutter as his hand brushes over my dark hair.

Then Ryder walks out of my room.

Fucking hell.

I collapse back on the bed and flop backward as I let out the enormous breath I had no idea I was holding.

How am I going to work alongside this man?

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

RYDER

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I slide my sunglasses over my eyes as I exit the limo and wait for Savannah to climb out. Then follow her to the private jet waiting to take us to New York.

She looks stunning in a navy dress which hugs her every curve, with her long dark hair twisted down her back. Her lips have a peach tint to them which I’m trying to ignore and today her lashes are thick and dark.

Still a seductress.

She’s also nervous. I can tell because she hasn’t once asked me to kiss her today.

One kiss. I’ll never ask again.

Pretty little liar.

I expected her to ask me when I arrived at her house this morning. When she didn’t, I wanted to kick my own ass.

It’s better if she doesn’t...but I wanted her to.

I write the reaction off to a lack of sleep. I lay awake for hours thinking about how I fucked my client on a damn washing machine and what that says about me.

Not the sexual act—that was hot as fuck—but Josh is one of my closest friends. I’ve breached our employment contract, and while I might not have cared in the moment or even for a few hours after, it’s starting to weigh on my mind.

That he slept with Cassy is different.

It’s his company, and she ended up being his wife.

That’s not going to happen here. The lust between Savannah and me is pure chemistry. Raw, hot, and dark.

It's fucking amazing.

I could become addicted to this desire and to fucking her all night.

I think she could too.

Except where I would want to possess her, she’d soon lose interest. Savannah has millions of men all around the world desiring her.

Just to be clear, I’m not insecure. I’m extremely confident in my capacity to pleasure her or any woman. But I know enough about the opposite sex to know it’s never just physical.

She has the world at her fingertips right now. Powerful and interesting people will tempt her, and the public won’t accept her settling for someone like me.

Not that I’m looking to settle down. But I’m also not looking for a lover I have to hide. I don’t share. If I am with someone, you bet the world knows she’s mine.

I’m possessive and make no apologies for it.

There’s been only one woman of importance in my past. Our careers came between us after five years together. Delta team demanded too much secrecy and the need to disappear at any moment. Then Suzie was promoted at the hospital she worked in as a doctor. We were like ships in the night for the last twelve months of our relationship. So I moved out, and we parted amicably.

It was only when I returned from the mission that changed me that I ended up in Suzie’s arms and bed one last time.

She doesn’t know the details. I couldn’t tell her and didn’t want to relive it.

I needed to not think.

Not remember.

But I do remember and yet again, I’m aware that it would be best if someone else was walking onto this plane with Savannah.

Yet here I am.

I rang Aidan this morning and told him to keep Marshall on his client and that I’d continue.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yup. Given the circumstances and that I’m up on the details now, it’s just easier.”

“Easier for who? I may not know what your trigger is, but I know you, Ryder. You don’t walk away from a responsibility, so whatever happened in the past, if it’s going to put her at risk, you need to reconsider.”

“It won’t,” I said firmly.

“What changed your mind?”

She did.

“As I said, whoever’s threatening her has acted twice that we know of and it’s likely to be someone close to her. These cases can be complicated. I’ve already become familiar with a lot of people in her world, so because this is both a protective and investigative job, I think it’s more productive if I stay on it.”

Bullshit.

I’ve been with her for three days. Aidan’s silence tells me he’s thinking the same thing.

“Fine. We’ll catch up on Monday when Josh is back and reassess.”

“Roger that,” I replied.

The entire drive to Savannah’s house, my jaw had been clenched imagining never seeing her again if I stepped away from the job.

It got me so wound up I had to snap myself out of it.

So yeah, when I walked into the house I wanted her to ask me to kiss her and I was going to deliver.

But she didn’t.

And I’m becoming more pissed with every tick of the clock. Pissed with myself for wanting to feel her lips on mine. Pissed that I want to see her mouth gasping my name as I fill her with my needy cock.

Pissed that I have got invested in a woman who is in danger...again.

Albeit differently than the first time.

Do I have PTSD from that moment in Iraq? Fuck yes, I do. Seeing a woman and her child that I was responsible for protecting explode into a million pieces of flesh and blood.

Because I failed.

I will never get over that.

Hence messaging Savannah's guards twice last night to check there were no concerns. Despite them updating the app and that I could log in and watch the cameras from my mobile phone.

In total, I had three hours sleep.

By six I was chugging down coffee. I don’t drink a lot of it, but this morning I had three cups. So I was tired and wired, expecting her sass and a demand to kiss her.

Nothing.

I want to tell her I took my cock in hand a dozen times last night and stroked, remembering how sweet and tight her pussy was. That I wish I could kiss her, but it would take us down a path I don’t know I can risk.

That if I made her mine emotionally, I would never let her go.

But I won’t.

Because I don’t want to see the look in her eyes when she can’t tell me that I’m not the kind of man she wants.

So I don’t.

Instead, I watch her cute, tight ass walk up the stairs to the aircraft—as her bodyguard. Not as the man who can lay his hand on her flesh and guide her to her seat.

On his lap.

Possessively.

If she were mine, I’d tell anyone who even thinks of getting past me to hurt her. They are fucking dreaming. That I would kill them because they got within a few feet.

I will anyway.

Whoever is tormenting her, I will find out and stop them. That I can do for her.

Then I need to walk away and let Marshall take over. I’m not going to fail another woman, especially not Savannah.

But I can’t stay on this job long term and torment myself.

Savannah sits on one of the white leather seats and removes her sunglasses, placing her handbag on the seat beside her. Briar leans down and says something to her. Savannah nods. Then Briar, Gina, and the team all find seats on the craft as if this is just another day in the office for them, and I suppose it is.

I study them all as I put my bag down.

Nothing stands out, so I sit across the aisle from Savannah, facing in her direction. Her eyes find mine for a moment, but a flight attendant steps between us.

“Would you like a drink before takeoff, Ms. Sinclair?”

“Mineral water and a green tea, please,” she says softly.

“Of course. Lunch will be served an hour after we are in the air.” The flight attendant smiles, then another crew member comes around with bottles of water for the rest of us.

Her eyes find mine again as I chug down half the bottle.

“You can order a coffee if you want.” Her voice is quiet. Everyone around us is getting settled and not paying attention.

“Not my first time on a private jet.” I wink at her. “I know the drill.”

She nods and reaches into her bag to pull out a small cardigan.

I narrow my eyes.

Something isn’t right.

She’s not her bouncy self this morning.

Fuck this.

I stand and move over the aisle to sit directly across from her.

“What’s wrong?” The aircraft begins to move, and her eyes shoot outside. I lean forward. “Are you a nervous flier?”

Savannah nods.

That I can do something about. I move once more to sit beside her, her eyes following mine. I smile down at her and place my hand on the armrest next to hers.

“Just don’t damage any nerves.” My lips quirk.

“I’m fin—”

The craft picks up speed on the runway and the tail begins to wobble. Her hand grabs mine and Jesus fucking Christ, no one should ever call women weak. Those nails of hers almost draw blood.

It’s almost ten minutes after we’re in the air when the craft has leveled out that she relaxes.

“I suppose you think I’m stupid. You’ve probably jumped out of airplanes.”

“A few times.” I smirk. “I don’t recommend it in that outfit, though.”

She chuckles but her eyes find mine and I see concern in them, which is sweet as hell. “Did you ever get scared?”

Her question floors me.

I’m thirty-three. No one has ever asked me that. Not my mom, certainly not my dad, and not even Suzie.

“Ah...” I glance out the window as my entire military career flashes before my eyes.

The training in the army, rising in the ranks, watching my first person die. Shooting a human for the first time.

Killing for the first time.

Two different things.

Seeing humanity at its worst and coming to grips with what that meant about me.

Being invited to join the Delta team, also known as the Combat Applications Group (CAG), Task Force Green, or simply “the Unit,” and almost killing myself during the training to qualify.

Then understanding that the team doesn’t officially exist despite reporting directly to the Joint Special Operations Command.

The tasks we did were so off book there’s no record. We existed on the fringes of government, undertaking tasks for the FBI, CIA, and army—hell even the president—but officially there is no such thing as Delta.

The United States government denies any knowledge of it, which makes your resume a little empty.

But was I scared?

Without realizing I’m doing it, I lift her hand and run my thumb over her knuckles.

“If you’re not scared, you’re dead, Savannah,” I reply darkly.

“I’m glad you’re not dead.” She smiles at me.

“Yeah, me too.” I wink.

I look past us and Luis, the assistant hair stylist, is watching our hands.

Shit.

I drop it and pat her hand.

“I need to catch some zees before we land,” I say, leaning my head back against the headrest and reclining the seat. Then close my eyes.

“Me too. I barely slept.” She rustles through her handbag as I open one eye, watching her. Then she grabs a blanket and places it over me, and my fucking heart does this little flip thing.

Goddamn her.

Next thing I know, she reclines her seat and rolls onto her side watching me.

“Savannah,” I warn, lifting my eyes around the aircraft.

“I don’t care. Just let me not care for a minute.” She closes her eyes.

Fuck.

But the sound of her breathing and her warmth nearby lulls me into a deep sleep for the entire flight. It’s only when we start to descend that I wake.

I stretch and glance around at the team, studying them further. Savannah is on the phone walking back from the back of the plane, and I watch Gina watching her friend.

I’m a guy, but that is not the look I’d expect from my BFF.

I frown.

She’s climbing up my list, but I’m not sure what her motive is, if she’s capable, or is just a jealous friend.

We finally land in New York and Briar directs everyone on the plans for the next few hours while we wait for the doors to be opened. Then we debark and load into the waiting cars below.  

I jump into the SUV with Savannah, Briar, and Gina, then we head toward Manhattan.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SAVANNAH

––––––––

God, I love New York.

There’s something about this place. The vibe, the buzz, the enormity. The fans are different somehow and so is the media.

They give us a little more space, but Manhattan is more compact that LA, so it still feels intense.

Ryder is amazing, keeping me in his personal space and guiding me to where I need to go. He’s this huge, gorgeous, muscular man who watches me with an intensity that’s mixed with desire.

Perhaps others notice, but then again, he’s not the only man looking at me that way.

What I do notice is that everyone else gets a very different Ryder than I do. He’s intimidating, threatening, and demands attention.

People move.

They stay back.

My lady bits clench as I observe his personal power and the way he protects me. It’s his job, I know, but after having his mouth between my legs, I find it a little hard to just see him as my bodyguard.

Despite him refusing to kiss me.

I still want him to. I’m just not going to ask him again. Then he held my hand on the jet while I was nervous, and my stupid little heart fluttered.

We check our bags at the hotel, and my team and I prepare for me to be on the Tonight Show.

I don’t know where Ryder is, but two of the Black Hawke Security team came with us, so they are stationed outside the door.

All I know is he’ll be back in an hour.

“What happened yesterday?” Briar asks as she leans her hip against the desk.

I’m nibbling on some carrots and celery.

Ryder warned me not to tell anyone about the stalker notes, because it could be someone I know. Which is incredibly uncomfortable, as it makes me distrust everyone.

So I stick to what I can tell her.

“Selena didn’t get the promo approved before putting me on the spot yesterday. I was furious. I overreacted.”

“You hid it well.” She shakes her head. “Man, that woman is nuts.”

Briar has been a great assistant for the past few years. She needs no guidance and just gets shit done. I really hope it’s not her.

I’m almost positive it’s not. I can’t see why she would. There’s no motive that I can see.

We had a private talk when I employed Gina, and I shared that I felt a responsibility to help my friend. She took her under her wing and taught her.

I was so grateful.

Now I’m not sure if the two of them get along. Enough to do their job, but I can’t help but feel Gina is a disruptor to my team.

I suppose I’m not dealing with it, because she’s the only person in my life who isn’t—outwardly—hating me for being successful.

Unlike my family.

“Actress, remember.” I smile and crunch on another carrot.

What I wouldn’t do for a plate of nachos right now, but when you are about to go on TV, the last thing you need is a few extra pounds for everyone to talk about for the next week.

Briar chuckles. “Good point. Luis freaked out.”

“Did he?”

Oh, no. I am not proud of how I reacted. I don’t consider myself a diva, but it can’t have been a good look in hindsight.

She nods. “Kept asking what could have happened and what Ryder would do.”

I frown. “What did you tell him?”

Luis works for Ricco and is so quiet I barely speak to him. He’s all starry-eyed most of the time. It’s still weird that people react like that when...I’m just me.

“That you were just a dramatic Hollywood star.” Briar smirks.

I laugh. “Good answer. Maybe it’s true.”

She shrugs. “We can all be dramatic, I guess, and you have a lot of shit to deal with in this new fame.”

“And that’s why I love you, Briar,” I whisper.

She sees much more than anyone else—except my bodyguard and manager—and is someone I can rely on.

I realize, as I munch the carrot, that I do share a lot of things with her.

Maybe I shouldn’t? Ugh, I hate second guessing everyone.

But while I have her attention, and everyone is distracted, I take the time to talk to her.

“And Gina? How did she react?” I ask.

Her eyes drift away.

I wait.

“I think she just went home,” Briar says diplomatically.

Of course, she’s not going to say anything bad about my friend. I feel bad about putting her on the spot.

But then I realize something else. Gina never messaged me to ask how I was. Then again, I did snap and ask everyone to get out. Still, wouldn’t a true friend check in to see if you are okay?

It’s becoming clearer every day that I am her boss now and not a friend. I probably have more of a friendship with Briar than I do with Gina.

Speak of the devil.

She walks into the room looking a little disheveled and with a grin on her face.

“Hey,” I call out.

“Hi,” Gina says and plonks down onto the bed. “What have I missed?”

Briar stares at her for a moment. “Did you get those documents printed for me?”

Gina leaps up. “Shit. I will go do that now.”

So what was she doing?

Briar doesn’t look at me, but I can see the judgment as she bites her bottom lip to stop from saying something and picks up her tablet.

“Everything going okay?” I finally ask.

“Uh, huh. Yup,” Briar says, nodding but still not meeting my eyes.

God. I need to deal with this.

“Okay, so are we going with the nude dress or the black?” My stylist, Ellie, asks, holding up both of them.

“Can we normalize calling them tan instead of nude? What even is a nude dress?” Briar snorts.

“This.” Ellie wiggles the dress and laughs.

“Black,” I reply quickly as my phone rings. “Hi Nick.”

“Are we doing dinner after the show?”

“Sure. Are we meeting anyone else?” I ask both him and Briar.

She shakes her head as Nick says no.

“Tomorrow you have the E-News interview and lunch with Dario and Melinda,” Briar whispers.

Dario and Melinda, or Delinda, as they’re known in the media, are the latest American sweethearts. I met them last year at the Grammys and we immediately became friends.

When I told my mom and sister, Ivy, over dinner the following week, they both rolled their eyes at me.

“People like that aren’t real friends.” Mom told me. “You should spend more time with Gina outside of work.”

“I see her every day.” I shook my head.

“Well, maybe if you hung out socially, you’d meet more friends and be closer. Maybe she feels taken advantage of?” Ivy said.

I had dropped my fork.

“I’ve been on set for six months making a movie. Do you think I can just take a day off? It doesn’t work like that.” I snapped. “And Gina is earning twice what she did as a corporate assistant.”

More than Briar, which I now regret.

She held her hands up, glancing at Mom. “I’m just saying. You’re earning way more than her, so it’s got to be uncomfortable.”

“Did Gina she say that?”

Ivy shrugged.

“Ivy. Did Gina say that?” I demanded.

“She said you don’t let her date Hollywood men.”

Oh, my god.

“For a reason. They would just use her.”

“You sound jealous to me.” Ivy shrugged again.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Ivy.” I tossed my napkin on the table.

“Savannah. Stop it. Don’t come into my home with your Hollywood superstar routine and think you can bully your sister around.” Mom slammed her hand on the table.

“What? Are you kidding me?” I had pushed my plate away. “They’re talking crap behind my back, and you expect me to be okay with it?”

“Well, are they wrong?” She lifted a brow. “You are a multi-millionaire. Gina works very hard for you. Maybe you could show her some respect.”

My brows shot to the roof of my head.

“Respect? I gave her a job when she lost hers. She—” I pushed my chair back and zipped my lips.

I couldn’t tell them she wasn’t doing a very good job or had a crush on Nick that was bordering on inappropriate—not that he’d think so—and that I’d only intervened to save her from being hurt.

Perhaps I crossed the line and should have just let her live and learn.

I was trying to be a friend.

I like Nick as a fellow actor, but I wouldn’t want any of my friends sleeping with him. He goes through more women than I do tampons.

“She?” Ivy prompted.

“Forget it. I tried to do the right thing and now none of you are happy. Still.”

“Maybe she feels like she has to stay. You could have just helped her out financially. You could have helped a few people out, but you haven’t,” Ivy said.

Wow.

Every time we got together, it always ended the same way. On the topic of money. I’d had a lot of guilt to start with, but after some very good advice from Michelle and my costars, they all said the same thing: wait.

Wait until you give any of your money away.

Time has a way of showing people’s true colors.

The truth was the same people demanding money from me were the ones who’d told me growing up I was a daydreamer with no talent.

So fuck you was never far from the tip of my tongue. The more they expected it and asked for it, the more I dug my heels in.

“Fuck that, you owe nobody nothing,” Nick had said.

“But you bought your mom a house,” I said to him.

“Because she put me through acting school and every day encouraged me to follow my dreams,” he said. “Very different from your experience.”

“They’ll hate me.” I sighed.

“Then they don’t love you.” He’d wrapped his arm around me and let me cry on his shoulder that day during the filming of the second movie. “Love doesn’t require payment.”

For all his faults, Nick was a supportive friend.

“I’m leaving.” I’d said to my mom and sister that day, then grabbed my bag and walked out the door.

I haven’t spoken to my mom and sister since. Mom ignored my call earlier in the week when I rang to tell her about the Golden Globes nomination. But she’d know by now. The announcement came out this morning.

Surprise, surprise, no text or call to congratulate me.

“Do you want to join Dario, Melinda, and me for lunch tomorrow?” I ask Nick.

“I can’t. I’m catching up with a cousin in the Hamptons.” He tells me, then I hear him mumble yes on my way. “Got to go. See you in an hour at the Tonight Show.”

He hangs up as I turn to see Ryder step into the room. I catch myself before I let out some inappropriate sexual groan.

It’s just under my skin.

Good lord, he’s so handsome I can barely handle it.

He’s changed since I last saw him.

My eyes run down the length of him and take in the black designer suit which fits him like a glove—which is a miracle given the breadth of his shoulders. Underneath, he wears a black shirt.

I spot a heavy watch on his wrist.

Handsome isn’t a strong enough word.

“Jesus, he’s hot,” Briar whispers, saying what’s on my mind.

I nod slowly.

Everyone in the room is thinking the same thing. Even the men, I’m sure of it.

Ryder tugs on his shirt cuffs and his eyes find mine, then simmer like a slow burning flame. I’m certain this man is going to be the death of me.

If only he would damn well kiss me.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RYDER

––––––––

Well, this is fucking torture. Watching Nick and Savannah together without the camera on them is one thing. In front of one...I want to kill him.

He keeps touching her.

Smiling at her.

Teasing her.

And, yeah, I know he’s kissed her. I may have watched their first movie on my phone while having a dinner break earlier.

Bad move.

I know it's acting, but Savannah was naked underneath him. His hand was on her breast. His mouth was on hers.

Facts.

Fucking facts.

Now I’m standing on the side of the stage watching Nick and Savannah be interviewed by Jimmy Stone, the Tonight Show host, and they’re laughing and flirting playfully.

The worst part is she looks like she’s having the time of her life.

“Let’s play a game,” Jimmy says.

“Ooh, I like games.” Savannah purrs and winks at Nick.

The audience laughs.

I roll my eyes.

“She does.” Nick leans his arm along the sofa behind her.

Dick.

“Well, this is all about how well you know each other.” Jimmy says, lifting a big white card and tapping it on the table.

“Oh, god.” Nick groans and drops his head into her neck.

Really? Is that fucking necessary?

I shuffle my feet and adjust my jaw.

“I’m going to be terrible at this,” he adds.

“You won’t.” Savannah pats his knee.

Un-fucking-necessary!

“Okay, first question. What is each other’s favorite food?”

“Ooh, ooh. Japanese. Sushi. Anything Japanese.” Savannah bounces, excited to know the answer.

They grin at each other, and he nods.

“Yes!” She punches her hand in the air.

“Nick?”

“Hmmm...” He rubs his jaw.

He’d be rubbing his jaw for a different reason if

I was allowed a minute with him.

“Sav’s a nibbler.” He winks at the crowd. “So I’m going to say...anything in a buffet.”

“What? No. Oh, maybe. I do like nibbling.” She thinks about it, as the crowd laughs.

I tune out the rest, so I don’t go to prison for life for killing a celebrity while cameras are filming me.

“They are so cute together,” Briar says from beside me.

I lift my brow and glance down at her. “It’s acting.”

She lifts her shoulder. “Some of it. They are close.”

Are they just?

“Not that close.” Gina mutters on the other side of Briar, and we both look at her.

Ten minutes later, Briar, Gina, and I follow Savannah and Nick through the corridors to their changing rooms. They stop outside hers and finish their conversation.

I would usually stop a few feet away, but I move closer.

Nick’s eyes lift to mine and without looking away, he leans in and kisses her cheek. “See you at dinner, babe.”

Only when he straightens does he glance away from me, then wink at Gina.

Brave man.

Few would to that to me. It almost felt like a dare, but all it did was put him way more on my radar.

“I’ll be an hour.” Savannah tells him and I step between them to open the door and check the room before anyone goes in.

Briar and Savannah wait until I nod.

I glance around and Gina has disappeared.

“Well, that was so much more fun than stupid Selena’s show,” she says, flopping down onto the sofa.

“You were both amazing. It was brilliant,” Briar says and starts packing things up around her.

“Really?”

“Yes. Those questions were hilarious.” Briar laughs.

I walk to the door. I haven’t spotted any notes, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any.

“I’ll wait outside. Let me know if you need me.” I say roughly as Savannah lifts her face to mine.

“Okay.” I open the door and she stops me. “Ryder. What did you think?”

I turn back to face her.

What do I think?

Why is she asking me that?

Out of the corner of my eye I see Briar has frozen and is watching me, waiting for my answer and studying the two of us.

“I think this is a very different world from mine.” My eyes roam her face, down over her sexy body in the hot as hell black dress and realize that while I never expected to fuck her twice, knowing I will never get the chance to do it again bothers me.

It more than bothers me.

“That’s not an answer.”

I watch her a moment longer, then shake my head. “Yes, it is. You don’t need any more adorers, Ms. Sinclair.”

Then I step outside and lean against the wall.

I’m her bodyguard.

That’s all.

After I find out who is threatening her, Marshall can take over. I can’t get further involved with Savannah.

There is no place for me in her world.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SAVANNAH

––––––––

“He might be ten times hotter than George, but he’s grumpy as hell.” Briar says and I push off the sofa and head to the chair to start removing the layers of makeup I have on.

“Yeah, poor George,” I say, referring to my old bodyguard.

He collapsed one day, and while George was a little older than Ryder, he seemed in excellent health. I’m no medical doctor, but it surprised us all.

As for Ryder’s mood, I don’t understand what happened between the jet and when he returned to the room.

Something has. He’s cold and distant.

I hate it.

“What are you doing tonight while we’re in the Big Apple?” I ask Briar through the mirror. “Oh, where has Gina gone?”

I was hoping to invite Gina for a drink before dinner with Nick to relax and chat as friends. To give her the opportunity outside our employee-employer relationship to chat freely.

I glance around as Briar pulls her bag over her shoulder. “She said she had plans. The rest of us are going to a show. I better get going so I can shower.” She glances at her phone screen. “Do you need me before eight in the morning?”

I shake my head.

“No.” Then I have a thought. “Is Gina flying home commercial with the rest of you tomorrow?”

Briar shakes her head.

Because I’m spending the rest of the day with friends in New York after the show in the morning, I asked Briar to fly everyone home to start their weekend early.

They don’t need to wait around for me.  

I don’t know what made me ask, but I did. Now I have no idea how she is getting home.

“Oh, is she planning to flying home with us?”

Shit.

“Me, I mean.” I correct.

Not us.

Ryder and I are not an us.

“She didn’t say. When I asked, she got...um, annoyed with me.” Briar chews her lip.

“Okay. Go have fun tonight.” I force a smile and when she closes the door, I stare in the mirror. My smile fades and sadness washes over me.

I pick up my phone and there are no missed calls from my family. None. A tear falls down my face as I realize Gina hasn’t said congratulations to me about the nomination either.

Nothing.

Not one single word.

Jimmy made a big fuss about our nominations tonight on the show and it was fun, but it’s not the same. He’s paid to do it. Michelle, who sent me an enormous bouquet of flowers congratulating me, is also paid. She’s my manager.

Ditto the producers of the movie who sent a large cake.

These are my colleagues, not my family.

They understand how important this is and I’m grateful they are acknowledging it and celebrating it with me.

But I want one person who loves me to hug me and say, Girl, you did it. Oh, my fucking god.

Getting nominated for a Golden Globe is an honor and enormous achievement for an actor. This could be the only time it happens. Few ever get nominated. Even fewer win.

Listen, I can understand my family being so critical when I was younger. They are working-class people, so seeing their daughter being a dreamer rather than having a safe career must have seemed crazy to them.

I could have failed.

But I knew in my heart this was what I wanted to do. All I wanted to do. I had to back myself, even when I was told I was a fool.

How I found the belief and resilience I will never know. Perhaps if I’d still been trying at thirty-something, I might’ve given up, but that didn’t happen.

I didn’t just dream, I also took action. I took risks; I practiced my art and kept believing it was possible.

I did.

It paid off.

So why can’t my family be happy for me? Maybe then I might share some of my wealth with them, but who in their goddamn mind would give money to anyone who is being abusive?

Seems like a toxic trait to me.

I wipe the tears away, then start second guessing myself. If I gave them money, I bet they’d suddenly and magically start being lovely.

Is that what I need to do?

Pay off Mom’s mortgage. Clear my sister’s student debt. And get my dad’s girlfriend new boobs.

Jesus.

I drop my head into my hands. I just want them to love and care for me. I’m not paying for their support and affection. Tears leak through my fingers as my pity party continues.

I hate crying about them.

I hate feeling so alone in my success.

I lift my head and wipe my eyes, letting out a teary laugh at my panda eyes. Then, as I always do, I take a deep breath and carry on.

Alone.

I reach for the cotton wipes and makeup remover and start the process of turning back into Savannah Sinclair, the woman, not the actress.

After I’ve reapplied my own makeup and pinned up my hair, I get changed.

I haven’t spent much time in New York. Before becoming famous I’d never been here, so I’m excited to go out tonight.

Sliding the matching apple green jacket over my pantsuit, I reach for my purse. Then, with one last look in the mirror, I step outside.

Ryder is leaning against the opposite wall with one leg lifted and his arms crossed.

God, he looks so handsome.

And grumpy.

The door clicks behind me, and I walk over to him. He drops his foot to the floor and straightens his suit.

“Ready?”

I nod, but don’t move as he stares down at me. I wish he would pull me into his arms and kiss me.

He’s your bodyguard.

Stop it.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Yes. Let’s go.” He moves, his arm reaching behind me, but he doesn’t touch me.

I hide my disappointment, which has no place existing between us, and make my way through the building.

I just need a drink or two or three.

That will make today better.

I’m done being sad.

––––––––

THE SERVER PULLS my chair out, and I thank her. Then slide into my seat as she places the napkin over my lap and waits.

“I ordered us a bottle of wine.” Nick says, as Ryder moves into the shadow, looking every bit the badass bodyguard he is in his gorgeous black suit and dark glasses.

Can he even see in those things?

I figure he must be able to.

But I can’t see his eyes and I hate it.

He said about three words to me on the way to Jean-Georges Restaurant in Manhattan and then made a call back to the Black Hawke security office.

They’ve made no headway on the stalker notes. The paper and pen used were standard materials, and the handwriting is not on any police databases.

“You told the police?” I asked Ryder.

“No.”

He gave no more information. I’m not sure how that works, but I do know the stalker is still out there and I have no idea when I’ll receive another one.

It’s unnerving.

I’m trying not to worry about it, but it’s easier when Ryder is not so cold. I’m thankful to have his protection. I just wish he’d tell me what has upset him.

Or if he regrets what we did.

“Babe?” Nick prompts.

“Oh, sorry. Thank you.” I glance up and smile, then the server fills my glass.

“The Lucien Crochet 2021 vintage, madam,” the server says. “Would you like to order?”

“Excellent choice.” I say, sipping the Sauvignon Blanc from Sancerre and then rest my arm on the table, relaxing.

“Give us a few minutes.” Nick says, tipping his head. “You look tired.”

I sip my wine again. “I am. Aren’t you?”

He shrugs and sips his own glass. “I’m used to the circus during a media tour and thrive on it, if I’m honest.”

“I noticed.” I smile.

“I remind myself how blessed I am, and that it might be the last time.” Nick says, taking a long sip of his wine.

“You’re right.” I sigh. “It’s not all of this”—I wave my hand out indicating the invisible celebrity status we both hold—“that’s draining me, it’s more the personal side of things.”

“Your dad still telling you that you have no talent?” Nick asks, surprised. When I nod, he adds, “Did he not see the Golden Globe nomination announcement this morning?”

I sigh and lift the glass to my lips, taking a long sip.

“No idea. Not one person outside this new world of mine has said congratulations. Not one.”

“That’s fucked up. What about your mom and sister, Ivy?”

I shake my head. Then I add, “No, not even Gina.”

Nick sips his drink thoughtfully, watching me. “How close are you?”

I thought we were best friends. I thought we were as close as two friends should be. But life has been so busy, and I employed her.

I messed it up.

And I need to fix it.

But now I’m not sure we are friends, and my heart just feels sad about it.

“I suppose she just works for me now.” I smile sadly.

“Not everyone is a best friend for life. People come and go,” Nick says, straightening his utensils. “I’m your friend and fellow nominee, so focus on those who do care about you.”

I smile, but it feels fake.

Not because he isn’t being a friend, but because he kind of missed the point. There are people in my life I love who don’t seem to love me.

It hurts.

It really hurts.

And, as my eyes dart over to Ryder, I realize that he’s doing the same thing. Closing me out.

He shouldn’t matter.

But he does.

God, I slept with him once and he won’t even kiss me. Am I that desperate to be loved and accepted?

The guy is my bodyguard. A hot bodyguard, yes, but seriously, he’s just a guy who wanted to fuck Savannah Sinclair.

I’m such a fool.

“Come on. Let’s celebrate in style like the fucking rich movie stars we are.” Nick waves out and our server appears immediately. “Oysters. Your best champagne. Lobster.”

I giggle.

“Make that two bottles. And every other stupidly priced thing on your menu,” Nick adds.

“What are you doing?” I keep laughing.

“Enjoying our success. We should have choppered here.”

“I’m staying two blocks away.” I choke on my wine and cough.

“Exactly. Golden Globe nominees do not drive. We helicopter everywhere from now on!” He winks at me.

I almost reach over and kiss him. This is what I need. Not because we’re spending an insane amount of money—we are—but because we are celebrating.

Celebrating our amazing achievement despite what my family has said or thought or judged.

Nick has given me something tonight no one else in my life has: a place to celebrate and not feel guilty.

Even more importantly, I let myself.

Over the next few hours, plate after plate, bottle after bottle arrives at our table. Nick makes me laugh all evening and I even force myself to ignore Ryder, who is watching from the shadows.

I know he’s unhappy, but I can’t do anything about it if he won’t talk to me.

So fuck him too.

Fuck him for turning off and...whatever. I know he owes me nothing, but I feel...things I shouldn’t.

Nick and I laugh at the hilarious things that happened on set and gossip like little drunken teenagers.

I need this.

Almost as much as I need Ryder to kiss me.

But I know now it isn’t going to happen. He’s made it clear.

Message received by Mr. Bodyguard, I think drunkenly.

We crossed the line. Now I simply need him to protect me and find whoever is sending these notes.

Nothing more.

For a second, I reflect on the note.

NOW I HAVE YOUR DNA

It’s weird. I haven’t slept with Nick. I’m tempted to ask him about it, but the BHS team has been adamant I keep the situation private for now.

I think it’s a fan with a crush on Nick.

So that narrows it down to one hundred million people.

More.

So while the threat is baseless—because what on earth are they planning to do with my DNA—and even if I had slept with Nick...well, so what?

The public would be thrilled.

“Honestly, it would be good PR,” Michelle reminded me.

“True,” I’d replied.

To which Ryder said, “You’ve both missed the point. If this person is unhinged, the media will be the least of our worries.”

He was right. It’s the crazy and unpredictable nature of the person leaving the notes that is worrying. I feel like running away from everything tonight.

To escape.

But the exquisite champagne, Nick’s wonderful company, and way too many oysters are a good start.

Maybe he is a true friend?

There’s a bond between a leading man and lady that’s hard to describe. You share something unique, when it’s this successful, that only the two of you understand.

“Tell the truth. Do you get nervous during intimacy scenes?” I ask, even though we’ve discussed it before. “You’ve done way more than me. Does it get easier?”

“Depends who it’s with.” He stretches out his leg. “And the team around you.”

“True. Our intimacy team was amazing.”

“They were.” Nick agrees and licks the Belgium chocolate from the back of his spoon. “I was looking forward to our scenes.” He says, placing the spoon on the plate and dabbing his mouth with his napkin.

“You were?” I ask, surprised.

He tosses his napkin on the plate and laughs. “Yes, Savannah Sinclair. You’re a beautiful, sexy woman. Kissing you wasn’t horrible.”

I feel my cheeks warm.

That wasn’t what I was expecting him to say.

It’s almost...inappropriate.

“Well, it was acting.”

“It’s still kissing.” Nick holds my gaze. “My mouth was on yours.”

I shiver.

His naked body was on top of mine, too. Even if we were surrounded by twenty people and four cameras.

I’m not unaware of how hot Nick is. He’s a Hollywood heartthrob.

But this conversation feels like it’s fueled with oysters and alcohol, and I’m not sure it should go too much further.

“I was nervous,” I say. “You’re Nick Marciano. My god. I thought I was going to bite you or something.”

He tosses his head back and laughs. I giggle, happy to have broken that awkward tension.

He leans in and says, “Spoiler alert. If you had, I would’ve liked it.”

And...now it’s back.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

RYDER

––––––––

I’m trying to recall what the jail term for shooting a celebrity between the eyes is while he’s dining in a Manhattan restaurant. And where I’d like to spend my final years if I can escape American soil.

I think Columbia could be nice.

It’s a dangerous place, but then so is the woman sitting several feet from me laughing with the celebrity I’d like to kill.

Nick has touched Savannah seven times this evening. Seven unnecessary times.

I’ve watched as she’s opened up to him and expressed how unhappy she’s feeling. I hate that he’s the one consoling her and making her smile.

I’m trying really hard to remember I’m simply her bodyguard.

That’s all.

One day she’s going to be on a date and I’m going to watch her fall in love. Right in front of me.

Well, fuck that.

What is it with this woman? I don’t give a shit that she’s a celebrity. She could have been some random woman attending a wedding. From the moment I saw her...

She doesn’t understand. I cannot kiss her. I cannot be with her.

And by the looks of things, she doesn’t care.

She’s already moved on.

My focus needs to be on keeping her safe and working with the Black Hawke team to see if we can identify who this stalker might be.

The latest note regarding her DNA was fucked up. The offender took her panties. So far, we have no match on fingerprints or handwriting.

Our tech guys hacked the police database so we could keep the information out of the media. There is always a leak when it comes to high-profile clients. Someone like Savannah is worth too much.

The media pays good money which would put some cop’s kids through college.

None of us expected the note to return any information, but it was worth a shot. Still, it was a disappointment.

At this point, I’d like to find out who it is and then get off this job. Liar, you’d lose your mind if you weren’t with her every day.

Fucking hell.

Aidan’s advice was to keep monitoring it and wait for the team to get back to us on the background and activity checks they’re doing on her team.

Gina is someone I’m watching, even if it does just seem like she is a jealous ex-friend with a crush on a man who is way out of her league.

In saying that, I followed Gina this afternoon, and she went to Nick’s room.

Did he invite her? Are they sleeping together?

Or was she delivering something for Savannah?

I just don’t know.

It’s easy to make assumptions, but I’ll piece it all together eventually.

Does that make Gina guilty if she is sleeping with Nick? No. In fact, if she is, then—and as a man, I can almost certainly confirm he won’t be interested in her for long because I’ve watched their dynamics—she has no motivation to blackmail Savannah.

Although she hasn’t asked for anything yet.

Just threatened.

If it’s her.

Luis is an interesting one. Far too quiet for my liking. He lurks in the shadows. He’s nervous around me.

Then there is Nick. It could be him.

Just because it doesn’t make sense doesn’t mean it’s not him. He could be scaring her...driving her into his arms. If Savannah has been telling the truth, and she hasn’t slept with her co-star, then I’m watching a man who is keen to change that status.

Has she lied?

I grind my back teeth and Savannah pushes her chair back and stands. I follow her through the restaurant to the restrooms. When we hit the hallway, she turns.

“You can stay here. I’m fine.” Her voice is soft and a little sad, despite laughing just moments ago. I walk right up to her, and her face lifts in question.

“What’s going on?” I ask roughly.

“I’m going to the restroom,” Savannah says and starts to turn her head toward the door to indicate it, but my hand cups her face.

She frowns and those green globes of hers are confused but wild. She’s a little drunk. More than just a little after two bottles of champagne.

“You going to kiss me, bodyguard?” she purrs.

Jesus.

“Or are you too scared?”

I lift my brow and feel my body demand that I take her. Fuck her. Kiss whatever part of her delectable body she wants.

“No, ma’am,” I gruff.

“No, you won’t kiss me, or no, you aren’t scared?” she asks and juts out her hip.

“Both,” I growl deeper.

She wobbles a little bit, and my hands steady her hips. I hold her like she’s a bomb about to explode.

She might be.

Or perhaps I am.

“You like touching me.” Savannah smiles.

Goddamn her.

“So does your date,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Are you jealous?” She grins, her eyes lighting up.

“I am your bodyguard,” I ground out, reminding us both.

A man steps out of the men’s restroom, and I take a step back. When he passes, Savannah presses against me and flattens her hands on my chest. “Come inside with me and make me come.”

Jesus Christ.

“Savannah, you need to get back out to your date. Then I’m taking you home.” I close my eyes and then open them, because yeah, angry sex and fucking her up against the restroom sink sound perfect right now.

She slumps, rejected, like a little girl. “He’s the only one who gets me. The only one who cares.”

What?

Savannah spins and pushes into the restroom.

The only one who cares? Nick? Fuck that.

He is trying to get into your panties, you beautiful little idiot.

I use the restroom at the same time and find her walking down the hallway when I return. She glances over her shoulder but ignores me and returns to the table.

Before she sits down, she says, “You can go if you like. Nick’s bodyguard is here. He can see us home.”

Us?

The fuck is she doing?

“Absolutely. Head home man,” Nick says, leaning back in his chair and winking at me.

Wow. Pretty sure the sentence would be like fifteen years. Maybe twenty-five.

I’m going to google it.

I’m young. I’m a former Delta operator. I’ll survive in a maximum-security prison.

Hell, I could fucking escape one.

It would be worth it.

I’ve never liked his acting, anyway.

Lies. I do, but I hate that he thinks he can touch Savannah and worse, that she’s letting him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I say, taking a few steps away and crossing my arms.

Savannah sits down and sneers at me, then claps her hands. “More champagne.”

––––––––

TWO HOURS LATER we leave. Instead of going separate ways, Nick insists he walk Savannah back to her hotel room.

Which is my job.

But that’s not the point. Instead of climbing into the bullet-fucking-proof vehicles, she’s looped her arm through his and they’re wandering along the streets of Manhattan, causing a huge stir.

Savannah Sinclair and Nick Marciano.

Nick’s guard and I share frustrated looks, then do our best to keep them safe while fans surround them and ask for photos and autographs.

It begins to get out of hand.

“Savannah. We’re not equipped for this. We need four more men.” I lean into her ear. “I can’t protect you out here.”

She should have fucking warned me. I have two BHS men in New York, but they are in their hotel rooms because we didn’t need them.

I could call for backup but I’m hoping she will get in the damn car.

“Please stand back. Get back.” I hear Nick’s guard grunting.

Nick sends a smirk this way. “You’ve got this. Right, big man?”

I don’t react.

If this cunt thinks he can rattle me when I’ve seen things that would make his little manicured toes curl, he’s got another thing coming.

The crowd continues to get bigger and out of control, despite it being almost midnight. But this is the city that never sleeps.

Nick leans in and kisses Savannah’s cheek for a photo and I’m done.

I wave out to the driver, and he climbs out and opens the door while I nudge Nick out of the way and lift Savannah over my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” she cries, wrapping her arms around my neck as I carry her to the car.

That’s more like it.

“The hell man!” Nick follows.

“Get in.” I say, and his guard physically pushes him as people close in on us.

“Fucking hell.” The guy grunts and I slap his back.

“Good job, man. See you back at the hotel.” I say and he climbs into Nick's vehicle, giving me a nod.

Nick and Savannah settle into the back like two drunk teenagers, and the last thing I see before closing the door is Nick wrapping his arm around her.

I’m going to kill him.

––––––––

SAVANNAH

––––––––

“THAT WAS SO much fun. I almost felt normal.” I giggle as we walk down the corridor to my penthouse suite.

“Normal with hundreds of fans screaming and taking selfies with you?” Nick laughs, his hand sliding down my back.

“Just walking down the road, not caring. I know we got ambushed, but it would’ve been worse in LA.”

I hear a mumble behind me.

Ryder.

He’s furious with us. Nick has already told me I need to replace him. I don’t want to replace Ryder. I want him to kiss me.

I’m hurt that he won’t.

Clearly he just wanted a notch on his bedpost called I fucked Savannah Sinclair and now he’s just doing his job. He doesn’t care.

Only Nick cares.

I realize I’m drunk and that might not be true, but it feels like it is right at this moment.

“Let me take you somewhere we aren’t recognized, then we can wander around, swim, vacation, and no one will care who we are.”

I turn as we stop outside my door.

“Really, where?” I ask, having to look up because he’s closer than I expected.

Has Nick always been this tall?

“I’ll do a sweep,” Ryder says, stepping between us and knocking Nick.

“Dude, come on!” Nick cries.

Ryder turns, lifts a brow, and looks at me. “Stay there.”

“Who is this guy?” Nick asks me.

“My bodyguard.” I shrug and giggle. “Now tell me where this place is that no one will recognize us.”

“Tons of places.” He cups my face.

What is he doing?

“Say you’ll come away with me and I’ll surprise you.” His thumb brushes over my lips.

“Nick...” I’m suddenly not okay with this.

“Invite me in,” he says and my mouth parts.

“All clear,” Ryder says, stopping right—and I mean right—in front of us.

It’s like your father showing up in the doorway threatening your boyfriend. His dark and deadly eyes are locked on Nick. Then they turn on me.

“Say goodbye,” he orders me.

“Seriously dude, can you not see what is happening here?” Nick says, annoyed.

Ryder doesn’t glance away.

If it was any other member of my staff, I’d be pissed, but I’ve had way too much champagne and my brain is fuzzy. Plus, Nick was making me uncomfortable, so I don’t mind the interruption.

Still, Ryder shouldn’t be doing this.

Neither should Nick.

Say goodbye.

“I should go,” I say, dragging my eyes away from his beautiful blue globes and back to Nick’s. “Call me when you’re back in LA.”

Nick purses his lips and glares at Ryder.

Ryder is still looking at me.

Leaning down, Nick kisses my cheek, shoots Ryder another furious glare, and brushes his hand over my hip as he steps away.

I watch him as he walks down the hallway, then turn to face the music.

“What was that?” I ground out.

“Funny thing. I was about to ask you the same fucking question.” Ryder growls, tugs me inside, and reaches over my head to close the door.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

RYDER

––––––––

“You can’t do that. You’re my bodyguard, not my father.”

“Sweetheart, fathers don’t fuck...shit, that sounded better in my head. Whatever. I’ve never acted like your father.”

Do I need to remind her about the washing machine?

“Jealous boyfriend then,” Savannah snaps.

“I’m not your boyfriend,” I grunt.

“Clearly. Boyfriends kiss their girlfriends!” she cries and starts to walk past me.

I grab her wrist and spin her around.

“Is that what this is all about? Because I haven’t fucking kissed you?” I growl.

Was all of this an act to get my attention and show me that another man would love to have his mouth on hers?

Like I don’t already know.

“Is it?” I growl as she stares at me. I roughly grab her neck. “Answer me!”

Damn her.

She licks her lips, and I force back my groan. All it would take is for me to slam my mouth down on hers, rip open her top, and those perfect nipples would be between my teeth.

“Savannah,” I warn.

“No,” she whispers raggedly.

“Liar,” I say, because I’m an asshole and I want her to say yes.

I want her to beg me. I want to slam my cock inside her and remind her she is mine and not anyone else’s.

She’s not.

But it’s what I want.

“Then kiss me Ryder. Kiss me like you mean it and you want me. Like I’m the only woman you have ever desired,” she cries.

My mouth crashes down on hers, bruising her, claiming her, owning her. I hear her moan and don’t care.

I hear her purse drop and don’t care.

I scoop her up as my tongue dominates hers and carry her through the penthouse. Then she slides down my body as I release her legs and we stand there, consuming one another like hungry animals.

My arms hold her against my body, my cock hard and eager against her middle.

Savannah slides her hands through my hair, and I know we won’t stop.

I release her mouth.

Gasping for breath, we stare at one another while I try to think.

“One chance. One chance to tell me to leave or I’m fucking you all night.” I growl.

The edges of her lips curl as her eyes sparkle. “Please do.”

I rip open her top, then tug down her pantsuit as she makes delicious sounds of shock and surprise.

Then I slap her ass.

“Panties and bra off and onto the bed. You better be wide and wet for me by the time I’m undressed.”

I’ve never seen anyone move so fast.

I almost smile.

But I’m too fucking horny.

I kick off my shoes, toss my black jacket and pants to the floor, and tear off my shirt. I’m commando and my cock is hard and erect.

I reach for the condom as I slide out of my pants and stroke my cock as I put it on. Then watch the sexiest woman alive spread herself out on the sheets like she’s a buffet.

For me.

She’s my buffet.

And I’m going to eat every single inch of her.

With the rubber snapped on, I crawl between her legs, and Savannah removes her hand from where she was circling her flesh.

“I like kissing you,” Savannah says.

“I like fucking you.” I smirk.

She’s so sexual. I love how confident she is. Yet her insecurities are there in the shadows, making her real despite her star power.

I lean down, lift my eyes to her pretty green globes and lick her sweet pussy.

Then suck.

When I slide my fingers inside her, she starts to unravel.

“Sweet and soaking,” I mumble, biting her clit.

“Oh, god,” she cries.

I grab both her thighs, hold them up and spread them open as I lean in and eat more of her. My tongue moves fast, sinking inside her sex and then sucking on her flesh.

“Ryder. Fuck. Oh god.” Savannah moans.

“Come on my face,” I growl as I keep sucking and lapping. “Give me all of your creamy pussy.”

Her body lifts, trying to both fight me and get more of me.

“That's my naughty girl. Your pussy is begging to be filled with my cock.”

My tongue circles her entrance, and I speed up the taunting and teasing, knowing she’s so close. I need to see her fall apart.

Because of me.

No other man.

“Ohshitohshitohshit,” Savannah cries, and I feel her body explode.

Smiling, proud as fuck, as she trembles and arches around the pleasure, I lower her ass to the bed and climb over her.

My tongue slides around one nipple and then the other as my cock slaps against her moist pussy. It jolts. I need inside her.

Right fucking now.

I lift my head and position my cock at her entrance as her big, needy eyes glisten back at me. When she wraps her arms around my neck, I drop my mouth to hers and claim her once again.

God, why did I wait? I love kissing this woman. I could do this for hours and not give a single fuck what was going on around us.

Which was why I didn’t.

Because the need to completely possess and own her is so overwhelming, I know there will be consequences for taking all of her.

But tonight I am.  

Tomorrow is another day.

“Fuck me Ryder,” Savannah begs

“Oh baby, I’m going to.” I smirk and nudge the head of my thick cock inside. “And you are going to scream so everyone in New York City can hear my name.”

“Mmmffph, oh god,” she cries, arching.

“Relax,” I rasp, pressing in farther. She’s tight. Her muscles contracted from her orgasm. Just as I wanted her. Tight, wet, and fucking orgasmic.

Another push and I’m almost there.

“Christ, you feel like...mmph.”

I almost laugh. She’s lost the ability to speak and I’m proud as hell. With one last effort, I’m balls deep and she’s losing control, clawing at me as she wraps her legs around my body.

“Move. Move Ryder. Fuck. Move.”

Slowly, I drag my cock back out and then slam into her.

“Shit!” Savannah cries.

I do it again, this time a little faster.

Then again.

Then again.

Straightening, I lift her hips. “You like it hard, sweetheart?”

Slam.

“Yes.” She tosses her head.

“You like me fucking you. Thrusting into your pussy.”

Bang.

“Yes, god.” Her arms are trying to reach me, but she can’t.

“You going to keep this naughty pussy empty for me so I can fill it?” I growl.

What am I saying?

“Yes, yes.”

“So I can lick you.”

Stop talking.

“So I can finger fuck you wherever we are,” I add and make a note to punch myself in the face after this.

“Yes, yes,” she cries.

I slide out and spin her onto her knees, pushing her hair to one side and then twirling it around my fist. I can feel my cock leaking into the rubber.

I’m going to blow soon.

“You gonna let me fuck you on your knees when we fly home tomorrow? While everyone is out in the cabin listening to you scream.”

No. We are not doing that.

“God, yes.” Savannah continues and presses back into my cock to take more.

Slam.

Slam.

Slam.

God, I’m so close.

“And are you going to suck me off at the end of each shift like a good little actress?”

What is wrong with me?

My seed rushes through my cock and explodes. My back arches as I thrust over and over into her willing and compliant hot body.

“Holy fuck.”

“Fuck, oh fuck, Savannah.” I cry.

The last of my orgasm shudders through me as I pull her up against my body and my mouth slides down her throat.

Mine.

That’s the only word I hear.

And it has no place in my life.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER NINETEEN

SAVANNAH

––––––––

I’m not thinking.

Only feeling. Because I don’t want this to end.

After Ryder thoroughly fucked me, we had a shower and made love—sorry, fucked—in there.

Then we realized we were hungry, so we ordered room service and now we’re sitting out on the balcony overlooking Manhattan while I suck his cock from my knees.

God, he’s gorgeous.

Sitting with his legs spread open, and me working his long hard cock with my mouth, he looks every bit the powerful man he is.

“Sweetheart, fuck, that’s it,” he says, his hand on the back of my head. “My naughty actress.”

I feel myself getting wet again.

Again.

I’m constantly wet and aroused. How can I not? Naked, this man is a god. With a scattering of tattoos over his olive skin and his dark blonde curls and blue eyes, I’m his sexual slave.

And happy to be.

“Keep going. I’m going to come,” Ryder groans. “Yes, fuck, yes. Take me down your throat.”

I start to gag as he pushes himself farther down my throat. I feel the heat of his come as he pulls back and releases the rest on my chin and breasts.

My needy eyes find his.

He smirks slowly. “You want more cock, baby?”

I nod, swallowing and wiping my mouth.

Like his sex slave.

Stroking his cock, he tugs me up. “Give me a few minutes.”

He has no off switch.

I climb on his lap, and he cups one of my breasts as I kiss him. I expect him to pull away because I taste of him, but he doesn’t.

Of course he doesn’t.

This man is a god. And all mine. For now.

I know it’s not forever, but...

I can’t help wishing he could be. I’ve never felt so safe. Never felt so cherished. So thoroughly ravished.

But that’s not what this is for either of us, so I simply relax into his arms and relish every second.

“Why were you sad tonight?” he asks, his voice rough.

“When?” I ask

“At dinner.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I shake my head. I don’t want to return to reality. I want to stay in this sex haze, ignoring life.

Ryder grabs my face. “Tell me. I want to know. If you can tell...Savannah, I want you to talk to me.”

“Nick is my friend,” I say, frowning.

“I am your lover. And bodyguard,” he says. “And you need to tell your friend not to touch you. Next time, I will break his arm.”

I gasp. “Ryder.”

“I don’t share, Savannah. If I’m fucking you, no other man touches you.”

“Is that what this is?” I ask.

He lifts his brows and smirks as his fingers snake around my ass and then enter the tight, puckered hole.

I jump.

His mouth takes one of my nipples and sucks hard, but I can see his smirk.

“What does it feel like?” He removes his finger from my ass, wiping it on the towel beside us.

“Jesus, fine.” I half laugh. “Yes, we’re lovers. But—”

“Don’t ask questions that neither of us can answer. Tell me why you were upset.”

I lean against his chest and sigh.

I might have known Ryder for less than a week, but he is persistent and demanding. It’s better to just answer him than fight him.

“You heard my dad on the phone the other day.” I begin. “My entire family is...well, they’re not supportive.”

“Because they thought you’d be a starving artist forever.”

I nod.

“Which they were clearly wrong about. So what’s the problem?” Ryder asks, his fingers sliding through my hair and tucking it over my ear.

I love the way he touches me. Even the simple act feels divine. As does the muscular wall I’m lying against.

Every inch of him is cut, solid, and strong.

So strong I feel in a constant state of arousal.

I lift my face and meet his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m being unreasonable. I just hoped they would call to say congratulations today for my nomination.”

“That’s not unreasonable at all. They fucking should.” He cups my face and frowns. “Did they not say a word?”

I shake my head.

“None of those flowers were from them?”

I lay my head back on his chest in shame. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Jesus,” Ryder mutters and wraps his arms around me. “What about Gina?”

“No. She hasn’t even said anything to me.” I feel the sadness creeping back, but I don’t want to be sad when I’m with him.

“Ryder?”

“Hmm mm,” he answers.

“If I were your girl, how would you celebrate with me?” I ask, closing my eyes and going into my imagination.

“I’m not, sweetheart.”

“Please. Just pretend.”

He goes quiet and I feel him pull in a deep breath underneath me. Then, as he lets it out, he starts. “No flowers. Everyone has sent you flowers. I’d scoop you up and swing you around, telling you how fucking incredible you are.”

I smile against his chest.

“Then I’d carry you into our bathroom and pour you a bath and lift you into it.” Ryder says as his fingers drift down the side of my body. “It’s full of rose petals and shit.”

I giggle.

“And I’d pour you a glass of your favorite champagne and while you’re sipping on it, I’d prepare the Cheetos.”

“Cheetos?” I laugh, lifting my head.

His deep blue eyes meet mine. “I saw the bag in your trash can. You can be the fancy celebrity with everyone else, but I know you nibble on Cheetos.”

I try to hold back my smile but fail.

He grins at me.

My fingers go to his dimples as my eyes roam his face. “You are so handsome. How are you not a model?”

He grips my wrist with just the right tension. “Because, sweetheart, I was fighting for our country instead. Killing the bad guys.”

“Did you?” I ask softly.

“Yes,” he answers after a moment.

“Thank you.”

His eyes dart away.

“What?” I ask, feeling his body tense.

“I fucking hate it when people say that. It’s bullshit. No one means it. No one really knows what it’s like to willingly head into gunfire or enemy territory. Or watch a wom—”

I know my face has paled; I can feel it.

I want to cry and hold him and take away all the horrible things he’s seen and done. But he’s right. While we might think we mean it, do we really?

I mean, really?

“God, Ryder.” I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him like I imagine a mom hugs their child.

Which is weird given we are both naked.

And smell like sex.

“It’s fine.” His hands grip my waist. “I shouldn’t have said that. Sometimes...”

I relax and sit back, feeling his soft cock underneath me. “Sometimes?”

“Some memories just hit harder.” Ryder runs his hand through his hair and gives me a sad smile.

“Tell me.” I run my fingers across his tattoos on his pecs and lift my eyes. “Were you going to say a woman?”

His eyes dart away, and I see the ghosts within them.

“You don’t want to hear this.” Those blue globes lock with mine. “I don’t want the darkness of what I’ve seen to touch your soul.”

I glance down, feeling like a stupid, spoiled princess. Boohoo, my daddy didn’t call me. This man has risked his life for years to protect US citizens.

God, I’m pathetic.

“Well, I am grateful. Very. For you and every person in the military who protects us. I might not think it every single minute of every day, but without men like you, we wouldn’t live the life we do now.”

He nods.

“Thank you. The hardest part is the politics. We are fighting wars. None of us really know who the good guys and bad guys are.” He shakes his head. “Don’t get me wrong, all civilians are innocent. All of them. On every bit of soil on earth.”

“So, how do you know?”

“Yeah, you don’t some days.” He runs his hand through his hair again. “We’ve seen a lot of things that don’t line up with what we’re told or what you see in the news.”

I listen, letting him talk.

“The brain wants to put things in little buckets. They are bad. We are good. It isn’t that simple. History is what we are taught. The question is, have we been told everything?”

“Or the truth?” I say.

“Exactly.”

“So you left?” I ask.

“No. I’m a proud American and soldier. I’m not a politician and that’s where things need to change. I left when I failed a mission and knew I was no longer capable of being an effective operator.”

Failed? I can’t imagine Ryder failing at anything.

I wish he’d tell me so I could understand him. Know him better.

His hand lifts and cups my face again as he looks deep into my soul.

“A woman died because of me.” The pain on his face is palpable.

“Oh, baby,” I place my hand over his. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

He leans in and kisses me hard, staying there for a long moment. Then his eyes find mine. “It was, and I will live with it for the rest of my life.”

We stay like that for a while longer, just being and kissing and touching, and I feel a closeness with him I’m not sure I’ve ever shared with anyone.

I might not have got the whole story, but I know Ryder hasn’t told many people what he shared with me tonight.

Eventually mother nature calls and I climb off his lap. He slaps it as I walk away, and I smirk over my shoulder.

When I return, with a robe around me, I stop to take in a bouquet that arrived while we were out today. It’s beautiful with dozens of pink roses. I grab the card and head outside, curling up on Ryder’s lap again as he sips a glass of water.

“Spread your legs. I want to play with this pink pussy of yours some more.” He opens my robe and slides his hand between my legs as I rip open the envelope.

Maybe I’m a fool.

I thought it might be from my mom. She always liked pink roses and therefore thought I did too. I don’t dislike them; I just favor white roses over any other color.

She won’t know that, though.

They aren’t from her. They are from my stalker.

I gasp as I read the horrifying message.

HELLO LITTLE SLUT, IT’S TIME TO STOP FUCKING MY MAN.

Ryder slides his fingers inside me and cups my breast, unaware why I’m reacting. Or rather, what I’m reacting to.

“Stop, stop,” I say, wriggling and climbing off him.

“What’s wrong?” He growls, standing abruptly. His hard cock hangs between us.

He takes the note out of my hand and curses.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TWENTY

RYDER

––––––––

I sit opposite Savannah on the jet and watch her as we fly back to California. It’s just the two of us as her team headed back on a commercial flight this morning while I accompanied her to another media jaunt and lunch with friends.

I can’t wait to get her home.

I don’t trust anyone.

It was only because we’d fucked like rabbits that I fell asleep for a few hours. I woke at six and lay awake for an hour before Savannah murmured in her sleep.

“I’ve got to go.” I said and began to move my arm out from under her.

“Stay. Warm,” she mumbled.

I smiled, but I needed to shower and go interrogate the management about the flowers and note. Then call the BHS office.

“I’ll see you after breakfast.” I kissed her nose.

Then those damn green eyes flickered open and yet again, I was under her spell.

“I don’t want to go home. I want to stay here with you like this forever,” she said, and damn if I didn’t want that too.

But it couldn’t happen.

Surely she knew that.

“Sweetheart, you don’t belong to me. As much as I want to kill every man who looks at you, you know you’re not really mine.” I told her, brushing my fingers over her forehead.

“What if I am?”

I smiled sadly and kissed her nose.

She wasn’t.

“I need to go do my job. Don’t leave the room,” I tell her. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Then I dressed and left without looking back, because yeah, Savannah Sinclair sure felt like she belonged to me.

If I thought yesterday was difficult watching Savannah perform in her world, then I know it’s going to be a nightmare after the night be spent together.

Last night was different. We got vulnerable. I told Savannah things I haven’t even told Josh and Aidan.

She opened up to me.

Now I’m back to pretending I’m just her bodyguard. Invisible and in the shadows while her eyes are elsewhere, and men are ogling her constantly.

Jesus.

And if that’s not enough to make a red-blooded man like me almost lose my shit, her stalker has struck again.

HELLO LITTLE SLUT, IT’S TIME TO STOP FUCKING MY MAN.

While I was eating breakfast in my room, I rang Aidan.

“Let me get Josh on this call,” he said.

“He’s on his honeymoon.”

“Yeah, but he’s been texting. This client was handed to us through his father-in-law, so he wants to stay in the loop.” Aidan said as he pushed some buttons.

This client.

I can’t think of her as just a client now, and that’s a problem.

The phone clicks to connect us with Josh.

“This better be good. I’m on my third Mai Tai.” Josh said, sounding happy and relaxed.

“Fourth sweetie,” Cassy said in the background.

I’d smirked.

“Put your bikini top back on,” Josh growled.

“It’s not a video call for gods sakes.”

“Can we hurry up? I have ten minutes,” I’d injected.

“They can’t see me silly.” Cassy giggled.

Oh, my god.

“Josh,” Aidan said firmly.

“Honeymoon boys. Honeymoon,” Josh replied. “This better be good.”

“You said that. Are you sure it’s not your tenth?” I laughed, unable to help myself.

“Is someone dead?” Josh asked.

“Not yet.” I roll my eyes, wondering how long it would take to fly over there and snuff them out.

Annoying, happy romantic people were...annoying.

Sweetheart, you don’t belong to me.

“Talk,” Josh ordered.

“Savannah Sinclair has a stalker, as you know. Three notes so far. All on the same card type. No prints. No DNA.” I summarize fast for the lovebird.

“They’re smart,” he said.

“The hotel knows nothing about the flowers, so he or she had them put in here themselves,” Aidan shared.

What?

He must’ve got through to the manager while I showered. I’d waited thirty minutes for him to arrive but had run out of time.

“Fuck,” I cursed.

“Do you think it’s someone in her team?” Josh asked.

I shake my head, even though I’m not certain. “I’m not sure. If not, it’s someone they trusted and let in. A few people had access to her room.”

I could ring Briar to ask, but it could also be her.

“Good point,” Aidan said.

“Does anyone in her team know this is happening?” Josh asked.

“No. We’ve kept this tight,” Aidan replied. “No cops. No media. Only her manager.”

I let out a sigh.

“So, what do we have in place right now?” Josh slurped his drink.

“Ryder on her personal detail. Two men on her property. The occasional extra backup, depending on her activities.” Aidan’s voice was muffled, as if resting his phone on his shoulder.

They both go quiet.

“You better served back in the office looking into this, Ry?” Josh asked.

No.

Fuck no.

“Marshall can take over. We have two new guys starting Monday, so I can shuffle bodies,” Aidan said.

I ground my teeth.

Savannah might not be mine, but the idea of not being near her...I realized my feelings were not appropriate here, but today was not the day to be talking about walking away from her.

Or tomorrow.

“I’d rather stay on point. I can study behaviors and pick up body language and nuances of her team and other people in her world that Savannah may be unaware of,” I said after a moment.

“Which Marshall can do. He’s a former Green Beret.” Josh slurped again.

And a flirt.

“No.”

I hadn’t meant to just spit that out, and I didn’t have a decent argument to go alongside it. Marshall was a powerful and skilled member of the team. I’d work in the field with him any day.

But did I want his six foot three, buffed-up body near Savannah? No, I did fucking not.

The two men went silent.

“Got something to tell us there, Ry?” Josh drawled.

Yeah, I fucked the client.

Twice.

I’d have to tell them eventually, but not today.

“I’m the right man for the job. Until that changes, we stay with the plan.” I spooned the last of my breakfast into my mouth, then dropped my fork on the plate. “I’ll be back in California late tonight.”

“Wait, where are you?” Josh inquired.

“Manhattan. Savannah was on the Tonight Show last night.” I walked over to my overnight bag and tossed my things inside, then checked my watch. “I have to go.”

“Let’s meet on Monday when I get back. Meanwhile, induct Marshall so you have backup if things turn ugly,” Josh said.

“Good call,” Aidan added. “We all remember what happened with Cassy.”

That wasn’t happening.

While no one blames Josh, Cassy being kidnapped by the same stalker who escaped his prison cell was on all of us. We’d all been in the hotel, along with the Barrett Security team, when the sociopath took her.

But fuck, they were right. I would need a break at some point. And while I was feeling all kinds of territorial to keep Savannah safe and find the perpetrator, I had to work as a team.

When I returned to Savannah’s room, Gina was walking along the hallway. She saw me and gave me a small wave.

“Good night?” I asked, taking in her sexy outfit which I’d put money on being the same one she wore the night before.

“Yes,” she replied and kept walking.

“Gina,” I called out, and she stopped. “How long have you known Savannah?”

“Oh”—she fidgeted with her dress—“I started working for her six months ago.”

“But you knew each other before that?”

She nodded.

“You went to high school together,” I added, and she nodded once again.

“Were you roommates after that?”

“No.” Gina shook her head. “Just, you know. We stayed in touch and then she asked me to work for her.”

I nodded, indicating I was done with the conversation. She gave me a smile and then walked off.

Interesting.

Gina had a very different take on their relationship. Or so she said. Which could be convenient if she had an ulterior motive. Or it was simply her truth.

Had she been in Nick’s room again? He was in the direction she’d been coming from, but without evidence it meant nothing.

I shake myself out of my daze and focus back on Savannah, who’s reading a book as we fly through the sky. An idea comes to mind, and I pull out my phone, checking her schedule.

I can only see her business activities. She might not add her personal appointments to this calendar, so I’m forced to ask her. Which means it won’t be a surprise.

Still, I think it will make her happy.

“Savannah,” I say quietly, and her green eyes lift to mine with a sparkle. That I put there. “What are you doing on Saturday?”

Her mouth opens. “Um. Nothing. I was going to sleep all day. Do yoga I suppose.”

I climb out of my seat and sit in the one beside her. She drops her book on her lap and watches me.  

“Keep your calendar clear.” I smile, lifting her hand and kissing her fingers.

“What are you up to?” she whispers.

“Maybe I’m joining you in bed.”

Her lips stretch into a smile, then they fade. “What happened to Sweetheart, you don’t belong to me?” She asks softly, but her tone is mocking.

“You know I can’t change that.”

Hell, the fact that I’m even here is fighting my own instinct to run and put Marshall on her detail. For all I know, I’m the wrong person to be protecting her.

The last woman died.

But I’m a selfish man and I want her. I want as much of her as I can get before I need to walk away.

“I know. You know, Ryder, I never knew celebrity would come with such a price.” Savannah says, tucking her legs up under her.

Then she surprises me and lays her head on my shoulder. We snooze the rest of the way back to California.

Her hand tucked inside mine.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

SAVANNAH

––––––––

I finally got a message from my sister.

And wish I hadn’t.

Congratulations on the nomination, Blister. You’ve really hit it big time. You know it would be nice if you helped Mom and Dad out.

Blister.

It’s what we used to call each other when we were kids. Instead of sister. Blister One and Blister Two.

I was number one, of course, because I was older. Which we also used to fight about.

I miss how close we were.

Maybe I should just give them all some money... but then it just feels like I’m paying them to be my family and love me.

I pace the house all Saturday morning, cursing and slamming doors and muttering to myself. Eventually I reply.

Maybe it would be nice if you all just loved me instead of asking for money all the time.

I toss the phone on the bed and drop my face into my hands.

I should be happy.

Goddamn them.

Ryder is going to be here in an hour, and I want to enjoy my time with him. Not burden him with my family drama. I wish I could ring Gina and tell her about him, but I can’t. I can’t just pretend we are friends and that she doesn’t work for me.

That something has changed between us.

I don’t trust her.

I nearly told Briar when she rang early this morning. I just want to talk to someone. My heart feels so sad that after achieving my dream, I don’t have anyone in my life to share all of this with.

Why? Why fucking not?

Should I have stayed working in the diner and played it small so everyone could accept me? Because that’s what it’s looking like.

Either that or pay up.

Frankly, it disgusts me.

My own mother and father see me as a cash cow. They haven’t expressed a single moment of pride or found it inside themselves to stop thinking about themselves and say Savannah, this is absolutely amazing darling. I am so happy for you.

You know, like normal fucking people.

And this is going to sound nuts, but in some ways I can handle my family being useless. It hurts, but they have always been like this.

What I find the most heartbreaking is that I have no one to talk to about Ryder.

Not Gina. Not my sister.

I want to tell them how complicated it is. How Ryder makes me feel alive, scared, and happy. How hard it is to pretend he barely exists when we are in public. How I feel his eyes on me constantly and not just because it’s his job.

I want to smile and dance around the house, giggling at how many times he made me orgasm yesterday. The way he picks me up in his strong arms and how his silly winks fill my tummy with butterflies.

How, when Ryder’s body is close to mine, guiding me when we’re out in public, I want to turn and press myself into him and feel his mouth on mine. To hear his gruff, deep voice say Sweetheart, keep walking. Or I’ll scoop you up and drag you home and fuck you.

I’d never say no to him.

God, I like him. I like him A LOT.  

More than I should.

More than I can.

Sweetheart you don’t belong to me.

“Ughhhh.” I let out the loud guttural groan and walk into my bathroom, stripping off my yoga clothes.

I turn on the shower and all seven of the jets begin spraying hot water. I love this bathroom. It was one of the features I loved most about the house. Which seems dumb given it’s a ten-bedroom mansion with views of the Hollywood Hills.

But I’m a Cancerian and I love water.

Give me a hot tub, bath, shower, ocean, lake... you get the idea. I am one happy little water sign.

So when Ryder said he’d pour me a bath with rose petals to celebrate my nomination, my heart did a little dance.

How does he just get me?

How does he have the ability to make my sex weep and my heart do cartwheels at the same time?

What does Ryder have planned for today?

If he really is planning to spend the day in my bed, then I have some shaving and primping to do.

Every other time has been sporadic, but today I’ve had all day to overthink everything. Namely, that he’s the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on and how perfect his body is.

How mine isn’t.

I actually googled how to look twenty pounds lighter in twelve hours. Then I mentally slapped myself because I’m a size four and that’s just disrespecting women around the world.

And insecure as fuck.

But Ryder.

Ryder St. James. The man is a god and I want to be perfect for him. I want him to tell me that I am his sweetheart, and I don’t give a fuck what the world thinks.

But the truth is, it's outside of both our controls.

Would I want the world to know I’m sleeping with my bodyguard? No.

Ryder understands this, even though we’ve never discussed it. So we pretend and he reminds me when I lose myself in him.

It’s getting harder though.

I don’t want him walking behind me. I want him holding my hand and right beside me. I want him to kiss me in public and to be able to press my hand to his chest and proudly show the world the man I lo...

Like.

A lot.

For however long this bubble of exquisite lustful chemistry lasts between us. God, I hope I don’t fall in love with him.

I know I could. It would be so damn easy.

So I have to be careful.

I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a large teal-green bath towel, drying off. When I walk into my bedroom, my phone beeps.

It’s my sister again.

I swipe reluctantly, then immediately regret it.

If it wasn’t for them, you wouldn’t be so successful.

I sit up. Is she fucking kidding me right now? Neither of my parents believed in my dream. I paid for acting classes. I worked in the diner and did double shifts while going to audition after audition, missing dinner and being told we ate it because you didn’t come home on time.

I toss my phone on the bed, feeling physically ill.

Fuck my family.

Maybe I’ll deposit money into their bank accounts and tell them to stay the hell away from me. This is not the behavior of a loving family.

Actions speak louder than words and all that.

I don’t want to be upset when Ryder arrives, and I don’t have a clue what I should be wearing—if anything at all—so I tune my family out completely.

Ugh.

Today, it’s just about Ryder and no one else.

Let’s face it, if anything on earth can take my mind off my entire life, it's sexy Ryder St. James.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

RYDER

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I pull up outside Savannah's front door and rest my arm on the steering wheel. The tattoos on my arm remind me of where I’ve come from and who she is.

A movie star.

One of the most popular women in the world right now.

Last night, I turned on the TV to stop thinking about her, and twenty minutes later her movie was promoted. Images of her beautiful face filled the screen, and I just shook my head.

Well, that and did finger guns at Nick’s face.

Then I got obsessed, wondering if the two of them have slept together. I don’t think so, but for a moment I had to tamper down my fury.

If I have my way, he will never touch her for real again.

Today I’m not worried about him.

I’ve made plans.

For a moment, doubts plow through me. I know Savannah is as sexually needy for me as I am for her, but I might have gone too far with my plans. We aren’t dating.

I don’t even know why I’ve done it, only that... fuck, I just wanted to. I want to see her smile and feel seen and appreciated.

Cared for.

Climbing out, I slide my sunglasses onto my head and stride toward the front door.

I knock.

“You have a key,” Savannah says when she opens the door. Heat fills her eyes as they roam the length of my body.

I step in.

Close the door and take her in my arms.

“I know,” I say before my mouth takes hers as I tip her backward.

Goddamn, she tastes incredible.

And looks sexy as hell.

It took seconds for me to appreciate the blue jeans and a crisp white cotton shirt which is unbuttoned to the bottom of her white lacy bra before stealing her lips.

“You smell nice,” she purrs up at me when I lift my lips off hers.

I let out a growl in response and notice her feet are bare. How am I turned on by her little toes?

But I am.

I slide my fingers through her long dark hair, which is freshly washed and falling around her shoulders in big waves.

A fresh spring scent has me leaning into her neck as my cock thickens.

“Are you ready to leave?” I ask before I start tearing her clothes off.

We straighten and my hands go to her hips.

“I thought you were joining me in bed?” She runs her hands up my bare forearms and I watch how she studies them. Then her eyes lift to mine.

“I’ve made plans.”

God, I’m like a caveman. Grabbing her. Grunting. No more than five-word sentences.

Savannah blinks.

“We will be in private,” I say to reassure her.

Again, five fucking words.

“Where are we going?”

I reach for her ass and tug her against me. Then with my mouth on hers, I growl softly. “It’s a surprise. Get your damn bag or I’ll carry you out to my car.”

She breaks out into a huge smile.

Then runs upstairs.

Fuck, I nearly chase her.

––––––––

I OPEN THE passenger door of my black F-TYPE Jaguar and Savannah climbs in.

“Nice car,” she says and shoots me a sexy grin as I close the door.

It will be a miracle if I don’t pull over and make her suck my cock before we get to our destination.

Miracle? Or shame if I don’t?

Damn her for being a famous actress.

I climb in and start the engine. It roars and I slide it into drive, then circle the driveway and wave to the BHS guys at the gate as we exit.

“So can you give me a hint?” Savannah asks.

“No.” Then I ask, “How was your day?”

I love that I’m in control. Usually, her schedule dominates her life. My life. Today I’m surprising her and she has to surrender completely to me. In more ways than one when I get her naked.

“It was fine. No one ever surprises me. I guess it's lucky you’re my bodyguard, so I know I’m safe with you.”

I frown as I face the road.

I’m not her fucking bodyguard today. Today was supposed to be about us. What was I fucking thinking? God, I’m a damn idiot. She just sees me as her employee.

I grit my teeth, but the words fall out anyway. “Yeah, you know, this was a mistake. I should take you home.” I steer the car over and look for a turn.

“What?” she cries. “Ryder. No.”

“I’m a fucking idiot,” I mutter, completely losing control of my emotions.

She grabs my arm. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you home.” I pull into a road and then a driveway and shove the car into reverse.

“Stop!” she cries. I spin my head and look at her. “What did I say?”

The tension in the cab of the car is thick. I’m dizzy and can’t get clear on what the hell I’m doing. I’m never this emotional. I need to get a hold of myself.

“Nothing.” I rub my forehead. “This. Fuck. Savannah, I’m sorry. I need to take you home.”

“But I don’t want to go home,” Savannah says, and I hear the emotion in her voice. “I want to go with you.”

The car starts moving as I press the gas and she unlocks her door, then begins to climb out.

“Stop. What are you doing?” I press the brake.

The door slams behind her.

The fuck?

I scramble to open my door and tear out of the car then whip around the back to find her standing on the sidewalk with her arms crossed.

The first thing I do is survey the surroundings looking for danger. Like a bear. Or the media who somehow has a psychic who predicted Savannah Sinclair was going to climb out of my car on this very street.

In other words, I’ve fucking lost it.

I plant my hands on my hips. “What the hell, Savannah. Get in the car.”

“Nope.” She shakes her head.

I narrow my eyes. “Get. In. The Car.”

“No.” She starts to walk off.

I watch her while my mouth falls open. Then glance between my brand-new Jaguar as it rumbles in the driveway, keys in the fucking ignition, and the woman striding away.

“Savannah!” I yell.

She keeps walking.

Jesus.

“I’m not going home. So you either take me to whatever we are doing, or I’m going for a walk.”

I sprint after her.

Fuck the car.

I stop in front of her, and she abruptly stops. “Walk off like that again and I will—”

“Spank me?” She blinks innocently.

I dip my shoulder and toss her over my body, then stomp back to the vehicle. A few people are watching, and I swear to god we are going to have our photos on social media within the hour.

“Sit. Stay.” I say as I slam the door.

When I climb back in, she smiles at me.

“Two rules...” I glare at her as I put the gearstick back in reverse and start moving out onto the road. “One: today I am not your bodyguard.”

Her eyes sparkle.

“Two: take off like that again and I will quit.”

Savannah glances away, but her voice is emotional when she says, “Please don’t do that.”

Jesus.

This woman.

I press the gas, and we start moving. Then I reach over and take her hand.

Damn her.

Twenty minutes later, I turn into a driveway and push the button in my car to shut the gates.

She stares at the house then at me. “This is your home.”

“Yes.”

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

SAVANNAH

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Ryder leads me to the front door. He doesn’t hold my hand, but he walks beside me. Something we can’t do on any normal day. Those ten or twelve steps are stupidly enjoyable.

I smile up at him as he opens the front door, and he winks.

Welcome back butterflies.

His home is large. Bigger than I would’ve imagined, and I realize he’s a reasonably wealthy man. Or has inherited it.

It’s not a mansion, but at a guess I’d say it’s a five- or six-bedroom home, which in Los Angeles is worth a stupid amount of money. Plus, he’s only twenty minutes from Hollywood Hills so, yeah, the math is mathing.

Ryder is rich.

The white double story house is classic looking and in good condition. Despite the size, the word modest comes to mind. It’s not flashy. It’s homely, I realize as we step inside.

Wooden floors and a large plush white mat meet me. A black jacket hangs on a hook, with a pair of running shoes sitting on the floor underneath it.

A meow sounds out and my eyes widen.

I crouch as a black kitten comes zooming around the corner.

“Oh, my goodness,” I say as it climbs onto my jeans and up my chest.

“Hey Max,” Ryder says, tossing his keys on a side table. “I see you’re as loyal as ever.”

I stand, lifting Max. “He’s adorable. How old?”

“Seven months,” Ryder says, scratching Max’s head.

“Meow,” Max squeaks and begins purring as loud as an engine. I giggle, falling in love with him immediately.

“The neighbor's kids look after him when I’m not here.” Ryder tells me as Max jumps from mine into his arms and climbs up onto his shoulder. “Come on in.”

He wanders ahead of me through the house with the kitten on his shoulder.

Is he for real?

My heart cannot take this level of sexy adorableness. Am I being set up?

Today Ryder is wearing dark gray jeans and a black shirt with rolled-up sleeves. With his tattoos on display and his wispy dark blonde hair, he’s already a walking sex god.

Add a kitten and I’m pretty sure I just got pregnant on the spot.

This man has no idea how he impacts me.

Or maybe he does.

I was not going to let him take me home. I realized my comment had upset him a second too late, but arguing with a man like Ryder is impossible. So I had to do something to disrupt him. Putting myself in a not really vulnerable position is the only thing that stops him in his tracks.

Today he might not be my bodyguard, but whether he likes it or not, it’s in his blood. I cannot imagine a time when he’d not protect me.

“Off you go. I have a special guest.” He drops Max to the floor, and the feline runs off to a cat tower and starts scratching at it.

I smile and hope he comes back to play.

“He’s so cute.” I sigh. “I always wanted a cat.”

“You never had a cat?” Ryder asks.

I shake my head. “No pets.”

He watches me for a moment, then reaches out his hand. I go to him, ignoring everything around me, although I’m aware of the two sofas and the simply decorated open plan living area.

“Confession,” Ryder says. “I’m fucking nervous.”

“What?” I laugh. “Why?”

“Shit, I don’t know. This might be slightly inappropriate.”

“I enjoy being inappropriate with you.” I grin, stepping even closer and laying my hands on his pecs.

God, they’re divine.

He shakes his head. “If this feels weird, I can take you home.”

“Okay, now I’m nervous.” I glance around him. “I’m not into sex parties or anything like that.”

He chuckles. “Sweetheart I told you I don’t share.”

I love it when he calls me sweetheart.

I take his face. “Don’t be nervous. Seeing you and meeting Max has already made my day a billion times happier.”

His eyes roam my face and it’s so strange to see him uncomfortable.

“There were so many things I wanted to do, but we can’t be out in public, and I had half a day to set it up. So. Shit. Come with me Savannah Sinclair.” Ryder says and leads me farther into the house.

Now I’m nervous.

He opens the double doors leading out to the back of the house and I stop dead. My mouth falls open as he lifts the glass dome off a large cake, and my eyes drift around, taking in everything else.

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” he says, lifting a bunch of white and gold flowers into my arms and then pops the top off a bottle of Cristal champagne.

––––––––

“RYDER,” I EXCLAIM, taking in the rose petals on the ground leading to the hot tub, which is bubbling away.

The cake is two tiers and on top it says “Congratulations Golden Globe nominee.” Max leaps up and tries to lick the cream cheese topping and we both swat him away, laughing.

No one has ever done anything like this for me.

I glance around and, as the sun is dipping in the sky, the fairy lights begin to sparkle, making the setting look romantic and special.

Like I’m special.

Not to millions of people...just to one.

“This is as close to what I promised you in NYC as I could get,” Ryder says, handing me a glass of the gold bubbles. “Just no Cheetos.”

I place the beautiful flowers down and swallow back my tears. I’m so overwhelmed I’m struggling to take it all in.

“I don’t have my bikini.”

“Part of my plan.” He smirks.

“Of course it is.” I giggle, then we undress and climb into the hot tub and sit grinning at one another.

“I can’t believe you did all this.” I take the champagne glass from him again.

He holds his up in a toast. “To one of this year’s Golden Globe best actress nominees. And to many more.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, and tears prick my eyes as our glasses clink.

“Now you can cry,” Ryder says.

So I do.

––––––––

RYDER

––––––––

HOW FUCKING NEGLECTFUL have her friends and family been?

Their loss. My gain.

If I could keep her.

Which I can’t.

This weekend I’m going to show Savannah just how special she is. Not because she is a movie star. Because she’s a beautiful person inside and out and deserves to have people celebrating her.

Tears fall down her face and I want to get in my car and drive to her parents’ houses and shoot the fuckers.

“No one has ever done anything like this for me, Ryder. This is...”

“Crazy?”

“Amazing.” Savannah shakes her head, taking in the fairy lights and playing with a rose petal on the edge of the hot tub.

Honestly, if those fucking things get in the filter it’s going to be an absolute nightmare to sort. But I knew she’d love it.

I stand up and reach for the pieces of cake I sliced, and hand one to her as I splash back down in the water.

“Is this vanilla cream cake?” she asks, slicing her finger through the icing and licking her fingers.

My cock twitches. She’s already naked, her nipples slipping in and out of the water. I’m trying to behave. I want to celebrate before devouring her. Which is part two of her treat.

Who am I joking? It’s a treat for me too.

“Yup.”

“You even color themed everything in white and gold.”

I shrug. “I might be a soldier, but I have other skills.”

She giggles and Max leaps up onto the edge.

“Dude. We talked about this. Remember what happened last time?” I say, holding my fork out to stop him falling.

Lick.

Savannah laughs some more.

This.

This is why I put today together for her. To see her smile. To see her happy. To see the joy in her eyes as it damn well should be.

To hear that laugh.

She’s incredible. What she’s achieved is remarkable, something few people will ever do. Why the fuck are people in her world not reminding her of that every single day?

Even if you take away her success and career, Savannah has a heart of gold. She’s vulnerable and kind, and her lack of confidence is endearing. Even if I would like to see her grow out of it.

The cream from my fork gets all over Max's black whiskers, and he tightrope-walks around the edge of the tub.

If he falls in again, I’m not saving him.

Lies.

Savannah slides her empty plate onto the wooden ledge and glides through the water to sit beside me. I get rid of my plate. Then lift her onto my lap as she wraps her legs around me.

“Better.” I growl as her mouth drops to mine.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

RYDER

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“Tell me you’re wet enough.” I say as my cock presses against her entrance.

“I am,” Savannah replies, and lifts herself, then takes half of me inside her.

“Fuck,” I grunt, gripping her hips.

“How does this feel like the first time, every single time?” She gasps as her nails dig into my shoulders.

It does.

I don’t know how, but it goddamn does. Nothing feels as good as her.

I lift Savannah and thrust my hips up as I simultaneously pull her down on me. The effect takes me deep inside and we both cry out.

“Ryder, my god.”

“Jesus, sweetheart.” I growl. Then I do it again and again, water sloshing around us.

Max has disappeared.

Smart cat.

“Ride my cock,” I demand, cupping one of her breasts and gazing up into her face. “Savannah, ride me and show me how much you love fucking.”

Her pussy clamps around me and she’s like a cowgirl, bouncing up and down my shaft.

“So much. God, you have the best cock ever.”

Fuck, she’s sexy. Her breasts are bouncing, and I spread my thighs, watching this beautiful woman pleasure herself on me.

“Thick, hard, and long,” she continues. “I could fuck you every day and never get enough.”

“I’ll fuck you every day.” I growl, not focusing on what I’m saying. “You will get on your knees and suck my cock when we get home and then I will fold you over and enter you.”

“Oh god,” she cries tightening around me.

“Like a good little movie star, I will finger you until you are wet enough, then fuck you hard, making you come on my cock.”

“Ryder.” Savannah trembles, reaching for me.

“That’s it. Cream on my cock,” I tell her.

I’m aware I don’t have a condom on, and so I grit my teeth, holding back my orgasm. She bounces harder and I jam her down on my cock, then jut up into her rapidly as she falls apart.

How I stop I don’t know.

But panting, I lift her out and carry her inside. I place her sexy and compliant body on my sofa, then open a drawer and rubber up.

Dripping wet, I climb back between her legs and enter her.

“Fucking. Hell.” I groan.

Then finish off what we started.

As I explode inside her, my head thrusts back and I have a fleeting moment of thought which I try to ignore.

But it pushes through, and I have to acknowledge it. I could die happy if she’s the only woman I fuck for the rest of my life.

More than happy.

When our eyes meet, everything is different.

Everything has changed.

“Ry.” Savannah reaches for me, and I drop my mouth to hers.

Our kiss isn’t urgent, it’s deep, it’s connection, it’s lazy, and it says all the things we can’t.

That we just fucking can’t.

––––––––

SAVANNAH LIES ON my arm as the TV flickers in my bedroom. We made...sex...a few more times and then decided pizza in bed sounded perfect.

Max agreed.

He’s curled up on the other side of her, purring like an idiot.

I’m the other idiot.

And smiling bigger than I ever remember.

“This is the funniest movie.” Savannah giggles into my chest as Adam Sandler does something in Hawaii with Drew Barrymore.

“Never seen it,” I say.

I haven’t, and I still haven’t. I’m paying attention to every inch of the naked body lying next to me. I’m aware of every move, every touch, every giggle.

And answering all her questions, apparently.

“Do you normally watch TV in bed?” Savannah asks.

“No.”

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Meat,” I say and laugh as she glances up at me in disbelief.

I kiss her mouth.

She folds over on top of me, receiving an unhappy meow from Max, and circles my tattoos on my pecs.

I want her to keep touching me forever.

“Are you going to get in trouble for sleeping with me?”

“Only if you tell them,” I growl playfully.

“I won’t.” She smiles softly. “How long has it been since you left the service?”

“Two years.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Not when I have your naked body on top of me.”

“Do you like your job?” Savannah continues her questions.

“Savannah. Am I under interrogation?” I nip at her bottom lip.

She settles back beside me. “I just want to know you. We can’t talk when we’re working, so this is like speed dating, but we aren’t dating.”

I sigh silently.

We can’t do a lot of things.

She’s right, this isn’t a date. And it reminds me why I brought her here—aside from the benefit of being able to ravish her in my bed for hours—the lack of celebration by her friends and family.

“Aside from Gina, do you have any other friends?” I ask, and Savannah goes quiet. I lift her face and she tries to pull away.

“Don’t.”

I slide down the bed and roll on my side, so she has to face me. “Tell me. What’s going on?”

“They just...clearly Gina isn’t a friend anymore,” she says, and her cheeks are pink.

She’s embarrassed.

I’m almost relieved to hear her say that after my conversation with Gina in the hallway of the Dufort Hotel.

“She hasn’t wished me congratulations or asked to catch up outside of work. Maybe I should’ve made the effort.”

“Is she your only friend?”

I’m partly concerned and also curious in case I need to consider them for the investigation.

Savannah shrugs. “I never was the kind of person who had a big group of friends, and I spent all my time on my art and working at the diner.”

“Or not trusting people because of the way your family treated you.”

She stares at me. Then nods. “I don’t understand why they are like they are.”

“Because they’re assholes,” I mutter.

“They want money. Many actors share their financial gains, and I would be happy to if I felt they loved me,” Savannah says. “But I’m not sure they do.”

I didn’t want to comment, but it certainly didn’t look like love to me.

My parents were kind and caring people. They encouraged us growing up, and I never questioned if they loved me. My brother is a mechanic with a wife and two kids. They live in Colorado near my folks.

So to me it’s black and white.

But love is complex. People are broken. They might love her but not know how.

I’d know how to love her properly.

Not an option.

“You don’t give money to people who are abusing you, Savannah. No matter what their surname is.”

She nods sadly.

“Growing up, they didn’t believe in me. I get it. I’m sure it’s a nightmare learning your kid thinks she can be a movie star instead of pursuing a solid career. But they were cruel.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, you heard Dad on the phone. He’d tell me I was talentless and make fun of me in front of his friends. They’d all laugh.”

Watching the pain on her face, I do a mental check on my weapons cabinet. One skillful slice of my best knife would resolve that fucker.

But her wounds will last forever.

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Savannah, the entire world is acknowledging your talent. As did you. That’s why you kept going and reached this level of success.” I brush the hair off her face. “You don’t need me to tell you.”

“I want to hear it.”

“No. You want to hear them say it. I could tell you a thousand times and it wouldn’t change the pain you feel.”

Her eyes drop to my chest.

“You are right. They should have encouraged me, guided me, and taught me to become a whole person so I could take on the world.”

“That’s the ideal scenario.” I nod.

“But I did it in spite of them.”

“That a girl.” I smile.

“I know many others have had a much worse upbringing than I had. I don’t mean to sound selfish.”

Fuck that.

“Hey. Emotional abuse is invisible. Not less than.” I take her chin. “And narcissists are brilliant at making you feel like your feelings aren’t justified. So I’m calling bullshit on that. It’s not a competition in life to see who is the worst off and only that person can justify their pain.”

I watch the wheels of her pretty little mind working.

“Some days I don’t know how I got here. I really don’t. I dug deep within myself to keep going, almost because I knew I needed to do it to survive. And then some of it was luck.”

I smile. “I don’t believe in luck.”

Savannah throws her leg over mine. “Why not?”

“I’ve seen too many things. Luck wasn’t present in those people’s lives. Not for a single second.”

Her green eyes trace my face, looking for more information.

“Tell me about the woman who died,” she finally says. “Did you love her?”

I shake my head.

“No. She was an informant.” I frown. “I can’t tell you too much.”

“I understand.”

I lick my lip as my mind ticks, going back to that time.

“She trusted me. What she was doing was extremely dangerous, and I told her we would protect her. Which was fucking stupid.”

“But you meant it.”

“Yes,” I meet her eyes. “I meant it and if I could go back in time, I would still mean it. The choice wasn’t mine, but there were things I could have foreseen.”

“Because you’re psychic?”

I shake my head. “Don’t. I know what you are doing. She was my informant. I worked with her every few days for nearly three months. She was a mother and a daughter. An aunt. She loved her family and hated the world she lived in.”

With her help, we could have uncovered a terrorist cell and saved thousands of lives. But that never happened.

I don’t know how she was found out, and I never will. I’ve gone over every communication we had and searched for the moment I fucked up.

I haven’t found it.

That hasn’t changed how I feel. 

“I couldn’t tell her much about my life, but she knew a little bit. It’s necessary to gain their trust. So she thought we were friends and...you know the brain is complex. I cared about her. You can’t not after getting that close to someone over months and months. Unless you’re a sociopath.”

“You couldn’t. You’re a good man, Ryder.” Savannah runs her fingers over my skin.

“I’m not that good. I’ve killed. You need to remember that.”

“To protect. To stay alive.”

Killing is killing.

It does the same thing to your soul.

Taking a life is far more impactful than people know. All these randoms walking around armed, they have no fucking idea what they have in their hands. Not really.

I spent years watching children in the Middle East walking around with machine guns, playing. But they aren’t toys.

No gun is a toy.

Whether you rationalize it for war or protection.

It is designed to kill.

The fucking end.

How many people could look at themselves in the mirror every day if they killed someone?

It’s easy to say you could.

The reality is far different.

“For reasons I can’t share, I turned up at our meeting place just days before the mission was going to take place, and...”

I roll onto my back.

Fuck.

It’s hard to think about let alone talk about, but now I’m back there watching it happen like a movie in my mind.

Worse few seconds of my life.

The horror on her face. The pleading in her eyes. The knowledge that there was nothing I could do and that I may have betrayed her.

I didn’t.

But I never got the chance to tell her because in seconds everyone was screaming, and I knew he was going to detonate.

“He had a suicide vest on and a gun held at her temple. She was holding her little girl in her arms.”

Aleaha Mahdi and her daughter Saarah.

“Oh, god.” Savannah's hand flies to her mouth.

What the fuck am I doing? I can’t talk about this, and no one needs to relive it with me. I brought Savannah here to celebrate, not load my war wounds on her.

I turn my head and see tears have filled her eyes. I reach out and pull her against my chest, rolling us so I can hold her tightly.

“Enough.” I reach for the remote and turn the TV off as her tears leak onto the tattoos I burned into my skin so I’d never forget.

We fall asleep in each other’s arms, our pains somehow less heavy because we shared them tonight.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

SAVANNAH

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We pull into my driveway and sadness fills me. I don’t want to be home. Which is not a feeling I’m used to.

I love my home.

Buying it was a dream come true after growing up in an unhappy home and then being a poor struggling actor for years.

Now, I want Ryder to turn the car around and drive me back to his place so I can snuggle up on the sofa with him and Max and hide from the world.

It was the perfect weekend.

The hot tub, the cake, the flowers, the champagne. Max. Who is cheeky and boisterous and sleeps like the dead as kittens do.

And Ryder.

The most handsome and kindest man in the world. Also the most skilled lover in the world.

He’s surprisingly sensitive and caring.

Protective.

Sexy.

Perfect.

And my bodyguard.

We both know this can’t continue, but the longer it does—and god it’s only been a week—the more my feelings grow from simply lust to something way deeper.

He took me to the Black Hawke Security offices today so we could work out together in the gym—that cake was not hitting my hips—and I loved seeing where he worked.

There were only a few people in the office and two guys in the gym who soon left when Ryder glared at them.

Afterward, I sat at his desk and spun around on his chair. Then he closed the door and stalked over to me like I was his prey.

I was.

He lifted me up and placed me on his desk, stripped off my lycra shorts and licked my pussy until I almost stabbed him with my long nails.

“Do I need to trim those like I do Max’s?” He asked, rubbing his shoulders afterward.

“Do I need to purr?” I teased.

“Sweetheart, I’ll make you purr,” Ryder said in response and slid his cock inside me.

Holy hell. I had purred. And I was still purring a few hours later.

Now I wanted to whimper because he’s dropping me off and leaving.

What did I think was going to happen? We’d move in together, or Ryder would want to stay here with me for the night.

He can’t. Everyone would notice.

“I’ll get your bag,” he says, opening the door and going around to the trunk while I climb out.

I open the front door and Ryder drops the bag inside, then closes it behind him.

“Are you leaving?” I ask pathetically.

“I don’t want to,” he says, taking my hips and kissing me.

But he has to.

Two BHS guards at the gates saw him come in and are expecting him to leave. When I’m home, he’s not required.

“Thank you,” I say, resting my face on his chest. “For last night. For today. I love Max.”

“He loves you,” Ryder's rough voice rumbles.

“Can I keep him?” I ask cheekily, lifting my face and smiling. I don’t mean it and he knows that, but I suppose I’m just trying to delay the moment he leaves.

God, maybe I like this man far more than I realize.

How can I not?

His deep blue eyes hold mine, and I can see how much he wants to stay. It’s not just physical anymore. The things we shared last night have changed everything.

Waking up, we immediately made love and spent the morning in a slow domestic lull. We showered. We ate breakfast. We sipped coffee while listening to the birds. We watched Max fail as he tried to catch them and laughed.

Then curled up and watched a movie together.

It was perfect.

Just like him.

“No. Then I don’t have him or you.” He taps my nose. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ryder kisses me once more, then walks out the door. I remain standing in the lobby with my fingers on my lips for a long moment.

No, then I don’t have him or you.

He has no idea how much those words mean. Way more than they should.

Beep beep.

I pull out my phone.

Go to bed. Ry

Smiling, I pick up my bag and walk upstairs.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

RYDER

––––––––

Savannah doesn’t need me until midday as she’s not leaving the house, so I’m meeting with Josh and Aidan this morning to debrief them on her stalker situation, as promised.

“So no more notes?” Josh asks, his ankle resting on his knee.

He’s tanned as fuck from his honeymoon and looks happy. I’m happy for him but feeling a little triggered because my feelings for Savannah after seeing her in my bed with Max—the little kitty whore—are stronger than I anticipated.

I should have known. Nothing about Savannah Sinclair is ever simple.

I shouldn’t have taken her home. I shouldn’t have woke up with her in my arms. I shouldn’t have tucked her up against me on the sofa and imagined spending my weekends with her for...

Ever.

Because that doesn’t feel like it would be horrible. I could lie and say having her body on tap twenty-four seven is what I want, but that’s a lie.

I want her giggles.

I want her little fingers sliding over my skin and asking me all her inquisitive questions. I want her caring eyes gazing into mine and to feel vulnerable enough to show her my pain.

And to be the man who tells her she doesn’t need to hurt anymore. That I will celebrate her every win. I will fly her anywhere and everywhere and throw stupid rose petals into my hot tub filter, so it blows the fuck up...then buy a new one.

Because who cares?

She is way more important.

Why the hell doesn’t anyone else see that?

Fucks me off. It fucks me off that I see it and I can’t have her. And that we are both skirting around the subject and just accepting it.

Because we can’t do anything else.

What I can do is protect her. That’s why I’m in her life. Not to damn well fall in love with her. Or lose my mind, which...it feels like I’m doing.

I let out a breath and shake my head in answer to Josh’s question.

“No more. Just the three so far,” I reply as Aidan drops down onto one of the boardroom chairs with a coffee and slides mine over to me.

“’Sup?” Marshall walks in. “Jesus, you’re tanned.”

“No tan lines either.” Josh smirks.

“Except from where your wife was lying over you,” Marshall stupidly says, thinking he’s clever.

Aidan and I lift our eyes to Josh.

Yup, he’s going to lose it.

“Think of my wife naked on top of me again and I’ll rip your balls off.” Josh glares back.

Marshall stills and glances back and forth between us, looking a little ill.

I smirk at him, because watching him get fucked up is one of my favorite past times.

I like Marshall. I do.

But he’s a Green Beret and confident as fuck.

So yeah, any time he gets taken down a peg or two is a good day.

“If it helps, she was wearing a bikini in my head.”

Aidan groans and I chuckle.

“How did you survive this long, man?” Josh shakes his head.

“Charm?” Marshall asks.

“Nope,” we all say simultaneously.

“Jesus. Drag the whiteboard over,” Aidan tells him, trying to save his life. “We need to map out who was with her, where she was, and when the notes arrived.”

I’ve done it in my head and mulled it over, but I’m not sure I can find a consistent pattern.

There will be one.

Unless it's random, which it could be.

“Who do we think are the main suspects?” Marshall asks.

“Nick,” I say without hesitation, although I’m well aware I’m a little biased. Still, pays to be careful and interrogating him could be fun. “It could also be a couple of the members in her team.”

“Names,” Josh says.

“Luis, her assistant stylist. He’s besotted.” I shrug, because so am I. “Her PA, Briar. She has access. The talk show host, Selena Hendrix. There is no love lost between them and the woman has already acted dirty.”

“Which also means it could also be unlikely,” Aidan says, but nods at Marshall who is standing at the whiteboard with a marker. “Put them all down. We need to eliminate them once we prove there is no motive or have evidence they couldn’t have been the offender.”

Selena is a long shot, but I wasn’t going to leave her out.

“And”—I sip my coffee—“her family has been demanding money from her. She’s refused because of some toxic family history. So motive, but they don’t have access to her changing rooms or the cash to be paying someone.”

I’ve gone over this so many times in my head. They do have motive, but not the means. Around and around I’ve played this.

It might be worth one of our team going to visit them, but I’ll need to tell Savannah and I know it will upset her.

“Who we talking?” Aidan asks.

“All of them. Mother, father, sister.” I spin my coffee cup on the table. “It’s super fucked up.”

Josh watches me across the table.

“Did you bring her into the BHS offices for a workout yesterday?”

I nod.

He waits.

I don’t answer.

“So three instances in one week. Nothing before then?” Marshall hums as he holds the marker pen against his cheek and stares at the whiteboard.

“What happened to her previous bodyguard?” I ask.

Jack, Savannah’s driver, said he’d worked for her for over two years and, as expected, was sad the guy had passed away.

I just couldn’t remember what from.

I hadn’t paid attention.

Perhaps I should have.

“He had a heart attack...” Josh’s voice trails off and he turns to Aidan.

“I’ll see if there was an autopsy done,” he says darkly.

My eyes dart between them, and I push away from the table as dots start to connect.

It’s still a theory, but my heart is thumping and all I can think of is that Savannah is in the house alone with her team. It might be an overreaction because of my personal relationship with her, but I’m not fucking losing another woman under my protection.

Not again.

“Fuck. Are we thinking this person is dangerous?” Aidan asks as I stand as I pull out my phone.

“I’m not waiting to find out.”

“Go with him,” Josh demands as I stride out of the office without another word..

“Ryder. My car,” Adian yells, jogging behind me.

“Answer damn it!” I yell when Savannah doesn’t pick up her phone.

“I want a team together right now.” We hear Josh yell as the elevator door opens.

“On it.” Marshall starts barking out stuff.

We step in and I punch the buttons four times, but Josh tosses two bulletproof vests in. Aidan snatches them out of the air.

“Stay alive.” Josh tells us and the door closes.

I hang up my second attempt at calling Savannah and let out a curse.

“Call the guards,” Aidan says. “And stay cool. It’s just a theory, Ryder.”

Yeah, it could be.

But he wasn’t in the Middle East when I watched a woman and child explode into tiny pieces of flesh, so I’m just fine preparing for the worst and being proven wrong.

“She’s received three threats, and it’s possible her bodyguard was murdered. So it's more than a theory Aidan.” I grunt.

“Tap into the police lab database and see if there was an autopsy done on Savannah Sinclair’s previous bodyguard.” Aidan barks into his phone. “George...fuck, I don’t know his surname. Josh has it. This is a priority.”

I’m not paying attention to his call. I’m going through the list of suspects, wondering if it really could be one of her team or Nick.

Nick seems unlikely...

Unfortunately.

“Put this on.” Aidan holds up the vest and I slide it on over my dark gray t-shirt as we step out of the elevator and walk over to Aidan’s SUV.

Once my ass is in his passenger seat, I try her again.

Pick up, damn you, Savannah.

Then I try the guards.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

SAVANNAH

––––––––

One thing I love about my home, aside from my amazing shower, is my beautiful office.

It’s spacious, with a view out across one section of my yard where I can sit and stare at the beautiful old trees and blue sky. Inside, one wall is lined with bookcases full of books, photos, art, and things I’ve taken from the movie sets I’ve worked on.

Along with my glass desk, there’re two sofas, a meeting table, armchairs, and a couple of ottomans. Plus a lot of bright cushions. So there're enough places for visitors to find a comfortable spot to sit.

I don’t spend a lot of time here, mostly because when I’m making a film I’m always on set, but today the entire team is here.

When I’m not filming, my life is full of meetings, media, and preparing for events, so I usually meet with Briar and Gina to go over the month ahead.

Today is special.

We needed everyone because at the top of the agenda is the Golden Globes. Preparing for the night as a nominated actor is a huge deal. There’s a lot to prepare.

“Okay, everyone, let’s start,” I say, rallying them out of their weekend gossip as I sit down in my favorite spot on the cream sofa and cross my legs.

Today I’m wearing a pair of white Dolce & Gabbana pants with a fitted powder blue cashmere short sleeve knit top. My shoe slips off my heel and wobbles as I bounce my leg and then flip it back.

“Those are beautiful.” Briar admires the white Prada flats.

“They were a gift from Nick,” I tell her. “How he knew my size, I’ll never know.”

“Wardrobe department.” Gina shrugs from one of the seats opposite me. “Obviously.”

I force back my reaction because that last bit was sharp. I’m feeling quite sensitive to her at the moment but need to accept my part in what’s happened to our friendship.

Or rather how it’s changed.

Friendship isn’t something one can demand, and maybe we just grew apart when I wasn’t looking. I’ve certainly been distracted by the whirlwind of my career.

“Good point.” I laugh awkwardly, but she doesn’t laugh or smile.

I glance at Briar and she’s staring at Gina.

It might be good that I’ve acknowledged we aren’t close friends anymore, but I haven’t really faced how disruptive Gina is in the team.

I don’t want to lose Briar. She’s far too valuable to me.

I was hoping to chat with Gina in New York, but she was barely around. I make a mental note to set up a coffee with her this week and talk.

Like a real talk.

It’s time to discuss her leaving my team. It’s awkward, and she’s not contributing.

Ryder asked me if she was sleeping with Nick. I said I didn’t think so, but it’s possible. The way he came on to me in New York was inappropriate, but I’ve written it off to the fact he was drunk.

Plus, we’ve done a lot of intimate scenes together and while it’s just acting, we’ve crossed a personal boundary with each other that normal people don’t.

Things can get blurred when your barriers are down. Not that I would have slept with him. Nick is a gorgeous man, but I don’t want anyone touching me except Ryder.

Who reminds me that I’m not his.

Which hurt.

But it’s true.

My life sometimes doesn’t feel like it’s mine. I never expected to feel like this. If anyone found out I was sleeping with Ryder—my bodyguard—it would be front page news.

Which is messed up.

The fans would go crazy. I can see the headline now. Is Savannah Sinclair sleeping her way through her bodyguards?

There’s no end to the things they will make up to get clicks, likes, shares, and sell stories.

My career is too new. My reputation in its infancy, too new to survive something like that. Unlike normal people, I have to really think about this. I don’t want to be known as the actress who has a thousand lovers.

Ryder could lose interest in a month. I see the way women watch him.

How can I be sure he’s interested in me and not Savannah, the movie star?

I suppose him claiming I’m not his tells me everything I need to know. This is just sex. It’s great sex, but my feels are clearly a lot more complicated than his.

Plus, let’s face it. He’s not the kind of man who wants to stand beside me on the red carpet. I know this isn’t the life Ryder wants.

But the idea of him not being in my life, even after one week and one amazing weekend, feels extremely sad.

More than sad.

I’d be stupid to romanticize whatever this is between us. But then the image of waking to find Ryder watching me with those blue hungry eyes of his reminds me how my heart fluttered. I twisted my head and kissed the powerful bicep lying under me and found myself hard up against him as he ravished my mouth.

Then kissed his way down my body until he found the star tattoo on my ankle and asked me about it. He teased me for saying it hurt, indicating his ripped godlike body, which is covered in some serious ink.

“Stay like that.” I smirked, grabbing my phone as he held his arms out. “Completely naked and seriously hot.”

I took a photo.

“Delete.” He demanded, falling on top of me.

“No. I’m making it my screensaver.” I giggled. “On. My. Laptop.”

He grabbed the phone, laughing, and kissed me stupid again.

I am stupid when it comes to Ryder.

And I still have the photo.

I am falling for him and there’s not much I can do about it. I mean, god, he went to so much effort to make me feel special and celebrate my nomination. How is a girl not supposed to fall in love with a man like that?

It’s a serious question.

Then I find out he has a kitten.

I’m not that strong.

It’s been less than twenty-four hours and I miss his touch. I miss his blue eyes, cheeky smirk, and the way my body craves his touch.

I miss how my body trembles the moment he kisses me, knowing the pleasure that’s about to come.

The feel of his mouth on mine.

His large dominant hands as they splay across my back.

I clear my throat and focus back on my team.

“So, Golden Globes,” Briar says. “Round of applause for our esteemed leader and her amazing nomination.”

The room starts clapping and I bow my head.

“Thank you, everyone.” I smile and glance at everyone individually. “Don’t think for a moment I could have done this without each and every single one of you. This nomination is for all of us. And so is the awards night.”

Everyone murmurs their thanks. I can see they are thrilled to be acknowledged.

“Will we be attending?” Luis asks.

“Not on the red carpet or the event, but the crews have their own party,” Ricco tells him.

His young, hopeful face drops.

I’ve been trying not to look at anyone as a potential suspect responsible for the threats, but it’s difficult. With Ryder not here, I’m feeling a little vulnerable, which is a horrible feeling, as these people are my team.

I rely on them.

I trust them.

“Unless you have a date.” Gina smirks at Luis.

Huh? I’m sorry. Does she think she’s attending the Golden Globes? Who with?

I’m startled by her comment.

“Who with? Ryan Gosling?” Someone taunts, voicing my question. “Wishful thinking.”

“He’s married.” Gina sneers while others giggle. “Duh.”

I sip my coffee to hide my displeasure. I really do not like the way she is with the team. God, have I been that busy and distracted that I haven’t seen how she interacts?

Yes, is the answer.

I gaze around and watch how many of them stare at the phones or simply look uncomfortable.

“Briar and I will make sure it’s an amazing night, and don’t forget there is a wide range of after-parties to attend. So get excited.” I clap.

Luis smiles and his face lights up.

“Now, let’s dive into the preparation. First, the dress.”

“Harry Winston and Chanel, Prada, Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana, Louis Vuitton, and Karen Walker have all messaged.” Briar says, tapping on her screen.

Wow.

“Send them to me and Ellie. We are meeting tomorrow to go over what I’m wearing,” I tell her, referring to my stylist.

“You’ll need to make a decision quickly,” Ellie says. “As you say, we only have a month, and your dress will dictate the colors the rest of the team needs to plan your makeup and hair.”

“Please.” Kali nods.

“I know what I want already,” I say, my mind drifting into my imagination. “Old school movie star with a modern twist, but...not too overly made up. More natural beauty.”

Kali whistles. “You do love to challenge me, Savannah.”

I grin at her.

“You guys are the best in the business. I have faith.” I glance down at my top. “I’m thinking powder blue. It’s a hot color this season and I really love it.”

It also reminds me of Ryder’s beautiful eyes. No one will know its meaning except me.

Not even him.

Will he still be my bodyguard in a month?

For all I know, he’s already thinking he needs to be taken off my security detail because of our relationship.

Then I’ll never see him again.

“It’s a gorgeous color on you,” Ellie says, taking notes. “I can see Dolce & Gabbana making a stunning gown for you. With pockets.”

The entire room nods, singing with pockets as I giggle.

Briar and I grin at each other. It’s an ongoing joke that I hate leaving my mobile phone with her even when I go on stage.

“Make sure you update Nick’s team, Briar.” I say, tapping my chin. “He’ll need to be kept in the loop on colors.”

“He doesn’t need to know,” Gina says, and my eyes shoot to hers in surprise. “This isn’t the media tour, so you don’t need to match.”

Is she serious right now? That’s not her call to make.

And none of her business.

She’s crossed the line in front of my team. Luckily I’m an actress and can hide my growing fury. But I give her the benefit of the doubt, given she doesn’t know the business, and explain.

“Nick asked me to be his date, so we’ll be attending together. Therefore his team will want and appreciate the information.”

Despite what happened between us in New York, when he messaged me last night over text, I said yes. We’re both single—technically—so going along together will tease the media and keep us in the spotlight. Which keeps the movie in front of minds and increase ticket sales.

Gina glares at me, her eyes dark and angry. Then she surprises everyone by climbing to her feet and saying, “Excuse me.”

Then walks out of the room.

Everyone is silent for a moment, watching me.

“Let’s continue. Ricco, let’s set a date for early next week to discuss hair and do some practice styles.” I indicate to Briar and the two of them tap on their devices.

For the next half hour, we go through the rest of the plans without a hitch.

Gina never returns.

––––––––

“OKAY, THANKS EVERYONE,” I say, standing to walk over to my desk as the team collects their things and shuffles out the door.

“You okay?” Briar says from the doorway.

I lift my head.

She glances behind her and then closes the door.

“Listen, I know this is completely crossing the line, but I’m worried,” Briar shares.

Now I’m concerned.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Not me. You.”

Oh.

Shit.

Does she know about Ryder?

“What do you mean?” I wrap my arms around my middle.

“Savannah, Gina is being a bitch. Not just to you, but to everyone. Including me.” She shakes her head. “I’ve put up with it because I love working for you... I like you. And I hate seeing her treat you this way.”

My heart wobbles and not for the first time. I wonder if we are becoming friends. Then I stop myself because I don’t want to appear needy.

But I’m embarrassed, as Briar knows Gina was my friend and her behavior today was horrible.

“I’m sorry I haven’t noticed how bad it is. I’m going to speak to her.” I uncross my arms and slide my hands into my pockets, relaxing my shoulders. “Thank you for speaking up. And caring.”

“Well, let’s face it. I’m saving her life.” Briar giggles. “Ryder looked like he wanted to shoot her a few times last week.”

I feel my face heat. “Yeah, he’s...protective.”

She smiles at me but doesn’t say anything.

Shit, I’m almost certain she knows.

“It’s his job I guess,” Briar adds.

I nod. “Yes.”

She waits for me to expand, but I can’t. It’s way too much of a risk to tell anyone what is going on between us.

I guess I don’t trust easily.

“But he can’t go around shooting the people working for me.” I grin. “Even if they’re a pain in the ass.”

“I hope it’s okay I said something,” Briar says as she turns around and grips the door handle.

“I’m glad you did. And Briar, I love working with you, too.”

We share a warm smile, and she walks out.

“See you tomorrow.”

Wow. That was surprising, but actually my chest is feeling all warm and happy. Someone cared enough to ask if I was okay.

You know, like a friend would.

It’s becoming so clear to me that I’ve clung to these people in my world—Gina and my family—hoping they would treat me with love and kindness.

They never will.

They don’t have it in them.

I wrap my cardigan around myself and walk to the glass windows. Perhaps it’s time to let new people into my life and leave the past behind me.

I’m twenty-eight and just beginning my life. Both Ryder and Briar have shown me more kindness in the past few days than my family or my former best friend.

It’s time to move on.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and search for Gina’s number.

Then call her.

I freeze when I hear it ringing behind me.

“Looking for me?” she asks.

I turn and find a gun pointed in my face.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

GINA

––––––––

“What are you doing?” Savannah gasps.

“I’m going to shoot you. What the fuck does it look like?”

Christ, I fucking hate her.

How could I have been friends with this cow?

From the moment she did the audition for the first Memories of Us movie, she’s turned into a narcissist.

Everything is now about her.

I thought it would be a flop. It wasn’t. Then the money started rolling in and she kept every single dollar for herself.

Listen, I know her family were assholes to her growing up. But blood is thicker than water and all that. It’s completely unfair she has this much money and stands by watching her mom pay a mortgage.

And her sister struggle with a student debt.

I am now closer to Ivy than Savannah, and both of us agree she is greedy and selfish.

“I never thought she had any talent, but you believed in her. If anyone deserves to share in her riches, you do.” Her mom said to me one day when I was over for lunch. “What have you got? Nothing.”

It got me thinking.

I laid awake night after night stewing about it as Savannah swanned around America, all over the TV. Every social media page in the fucking universe showed her face.

Then one day, I came up with a plan.

I told her I’d lost my job and sobbed while she consoled me. I felt a little bad for lying.

Okay, no I didn’t.

Not when I heard she’d earned twelve million dollars for the first movie, and that doesn’t include the franchise shares she’d been offered.

I know that because she told me when she was negotiating the deal.

So it’s a lot. More than we expected because the movie was wildly and unexpectedly popular.

They’ve turned her into a fucking Barbie doll now.

Yet Savannah still hasn’t shared a single dollar with her family or her best friend. Me. So when I told Ivy she’d employed me, we were hoping it would help us manipulate her into sharing some of her wealth.

So far I’ve failed.

Working for her only exacerbated my feelings. I’m now her fucking employee. She bosses me around telling me what to do, but soon after starting I realized I didn’t care about the money all that much.

I had met Nick.

Nick Marciano. The Italian stallion...and let me tell you, yes, he is.

The day I was introduced to him, I fell in love. Right there on the spot. I know half of America is in love with him, but I mean real, genuine, romantic love. The way he smiled at me, right into my eyes, I just melted.

It started with flirting, and then he’d lean in and whisper things in my ear when no one was looking.

When we were filming on location, I waited for him to make a more serious move.

To kiss me.

Or invite me to his trailer.

Yes, he flirted with others on the set, but with us, it was different.

I hated watching him act with Savannah, and Nick knew it. He’d pat my bottom between takes and say don’t be jealous, I bet you’re way better in bed. Like he’d actually fucked her.

I began to get furious, wondering if they had. The media goes on and on about it, driving me insane. Nick refuses to tell me if he has.

Which means he has.

God, I fucking hate her. But I might have forgiven her for sleeping with him. I mean, he’s gorgeous, so I don’t blame her. That was before he met me, obviously.

Except she went and crossed the line.

Nick finally invited me to his trailer the last night on location. I was waiting for everyone to go to bed when I overheard Savannah talking to him outside.

“Nick, stay away from Gina,” she’d said. “Go find someone else to play with.”

“Fine. Don’t sleep with Gina. Got it.”

Why? Why did she have to wreck this for me?

I saw red.

Savannah is the single most selfish cunt in the world, and I decided there and then I was going to destroy her. She’s rich and famous—that’s what she wanted. Why couldn’t she let me have the one thing I wanted?

Nick.

I ended up going to his trailer that night and he tried to get me to leave, but well, I ripped my top off and had no bra on underneath, so he tugged me inside and we made love.

Mostly.

He came on my tits, and I sucked his cock. Then he finger fucked me until I came.

It was amazing.

When he told me we couldn’t do it again, I cried. I didn’t think it was possible, but I hated her more. I knew he was falling in love with me, but because of what Savannah said to him, he was pushing me away.

I promised myself Nick would be mine and if I had to kill her, I would.

But that seemed extreme.

So I worked on my relationship with Nick. Soon after returning home, the movie wrapped. Nick and I continued to mess around, but he’d never penetrate me. Until he did, I knew he wouldn’t fall completely in love with me.

Why? Because of her.

So she left me with no damn option.

I began warning her, leaving notes. Threatening and scaring her.

It was quite fun, just quietly.

Actually, let me backtrack. The first time I tried, I got caught. Fucking George. He found me walking into her office one day and confronted me.

“What are you up to, Gina?” George asked. He was always watching me with a side eye.

“Just dropping off some...” Fuck, I hadn’t been prepared to answer any questions. I knew she was with her yoga instructor for the next hour, so I was hoping to just slip inside and leave the note.

“Why are you still here?” George crossed his arms and lifted a brow at me.

I waved the folded note at him. “Just leaving my friend a little note.”

I’d fucked up. There was no way he could know it was me. My entire plan was ruined. Unless...I knew I had to make some tough decisions, but it would be worth it when Nick and I were finally married.

“Listen, I just need to go in there. I’ll be one minute,” I said, pushing past him.

George stepped in front of me and, uncrossing his arms, went all Incredible Hulk on me, filling the doorway.

I feigned fright, pulled out my personal taser, shoving it into his chest, and he crumpled to the floor.

I can’t tell you how perfectly this worked out. I was expecting him to be incapacitated while I worked out how to get rid of him.

Instead, he had a fucking heart attack. Right there on the spot.

Talk about good luck.

Well, except it messed up my plans. I had to wait to drop the first threat for another week or so. Leaving the note that day would’ve raised suspicions. So I simply went into the lounge and curled up with a book.

When Savannah and her yoga instructor came out and found me, we all chatted for a while.

“Just need you to approve these social images,” I told Savannah. “Hope it's okay that I waited.”

“Of course,” she said, sitting down beside me and scrolling on my laptop looking at the Instagram feed I’d laid out.

Meanwhile, George is crossing the rainbow bridge or whatever.

“These look great. Just check with Briar on that blue. I don’t think that is the right brand color.”

I mentally rolled my eyes.

Briar is the teacher’s pet.

“Sure. Okay, I better go. I have a tennis lesson tonight.” I leaped up and stuffed my laptop into my bag.

“Thanks, Gina,” Savannah said, standing. “Where’s George?” she asked, looking around.

I shrugged. “Haven’t seen him. Did he go home?”

She’d frowned. “No. We were heading out after my yoga session.”

“Sorry, I haven’t seen him,” I said, then left.

I heard her scream as I was closing the front door.

And smiled.

With George out of the way, I was able to kick off my plan. I’d left three notes with some great threats and figured they were working.

Last week in New York, Nick invited me back to his room after he’d had dinner with Savannah. He was drunk and horny.

For me.

It was everything I could have dreamed of. I finally got to feel his beautiful cock inside me. I told him I loved him, to which he replied, I love your pussy.

So cheeky.

Today I was planning to resign because my life is now going to be with Nick. I spent all weekend dreaming about how this would unfold. How she would finally see us together as a couple and realize I don’t need her.

Or her money.

Or job.

Nick said he’d take me to the Golden Globes as his date. Well, sure honey, were his actual words, but he’s a man of his word.

I’ve been so excited.

Some might say cocky. But I deserve this. I’ve been patient and treated like a slave in this job.

But Savannah, the cunt, has manipulated him once again. This morning she told the team Nick had invited her to be his date at the Golden Globes.

I almost pulled my gun out of my purse right there and fucking then.

What the actual fuck?

She can’t have him.

He’s mine.

So, I have to kill her.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

RYDER

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“Open the gates!” I yell at the guards.

“I can’t,” Asher says. “They’ve been locked down.”

I press the remote again and toss it across the dashboard. Who the hell knows how to lock gates like this?

Who the fuck is it?

“Calm down,” Aidan growls and climbs out of the car.

I follow him.

“What have we got?” he asks as I grab the bars of the ornate black gates and peer up at the house. You can’t see all that much from the road, but my mind is going insane.

No flames.

That’s good.

No sounds of gunshots.

Good.

“Her team was just here ten or fifteen minutes ago. All of them left except for Gina,” one of the guards says.

Gina?

No fucking way. Jesus Christ, it’s her!

It seemed way too obvious. Because they’d been friends, I saw her as nothing more than jealous and obsessed with Nick Marciano.

Jesus.

I run my hand over my hair and shake my head.

After years of friendship, she is so obsessed with the guy that she does this?

Clearly, she’s a lunatic.

I assumed she was sleeping with him in New York and was simply hiding it from Savannah, who doesn’t want her staff fucking her co-star.

Not that she has a right to dictate that.

But Gina has been disrespectful and showing signs she resented her friend.

But murder?

Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. We don’t know what they are doing in there, and the gates might just be malfunctioning. And Savannah just may not be answering her phone.

My gut says otherwise.

Behind us, three more cars pull up and about five Black Hawke Security guys climb out. Including Marshall.

“Can we override it?” I ask, lifting my phone to my ear and trying Savannah’s number again.

Still no answer.

“Fuck.” I curse and pocket it.

“Let me try,” Brody, one of the tech guys, says. He pulls out some tools and gets to work.

“What do we think is going on here?” Marshall asks, his hands on his hips.

“Nothing good,” Aidan says. “Do we call the cops yet?”

There hasn’t been an incident yet, so we’re a little premature.

“No.”

I watch Aidan rub his jaw and pace along the front of the gate while I survey the property.

I can get in there.

I grip the sides of my bulletproof vest and start formulating a plan. I do a weapons check—gun, knife, smoke canister—and then run my hand over my head.

When I turn to speak, Aidan shakes his head. “No. Whatever you are thinking, let’s wait to get these gates open and then call the cops.”

I clench my teeth.

“No. I’m not waiting. Don’t ask me to do that.”

“Fucking hell, you’re sleeping with her. With Savannah Sinclair. Christ.” Aidan throws his head back.

“Lower your voice,” I growl quietly.

“Jesus.” He rubs his face.

Marshall glances at us, but I don’t know if he heard.

“Aidan, this can’t get out.” I tug him farther away. The fact that I’ve breached my employment contract should be the most important thing on my mind.

It’s not.

I know how important it is to Savannah for this to remain confidential and away from the public. Then again, none of it will matter if she’s dead.

How unhinged is Gina?

If she was responsible for George’s death, and we might never know, then she is very dangerous.

She was so obvious and yet, it seemed way too obvious.

“I’ve got to get in there. You know I’m the right person to do this.” I grunt. “Nothing could be happening inside. In which case, I’ll call back and tell you all to disappear. If not, I can handle a twenty-something psycho.”

“Not if you are fucking the woman she might be trying to harm.” Aidan shakes his head. “Marshall or I will go. You know I’m right.”

I rub my head and slam my arm down.

I cannot stand back and let another woman under my protection get hurt. If they are having lunch, then I’ll happily hang my head in shame.

But my instincts are screaming.

“Listen. I’m her bodyguard. I’m going. Let’s face it, Josh is going to fire me, anyway.” I shake my head. “Don’t try to stop me, Aid—”

Then we hear a gunshot.

Not again!

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CHAPTER THIRTY

SAVANNAH

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“Shoot me? Why? What the hell have I done to you?” I cry. “I thought you were my friend.”

Gina snorts.

I feel my body trembling as I go into shock. I’ve never had a gun waved at me before. Fear like I’ve never felt before rushes through me, making me dizzy but strangely super aware.

But I’m also confused.

I knew our friendship was breaking down, but this...this is way beyond what I can comprehend right now.

“Get down on your knees,” Gina yells.

“What?” I ask, holding my arms up and visibly shuddering.

“Bitch, I want you to kneel before me while I shoot you.”

“Gina, stop. Let’s talk.” My phone drops from my hand and bounces away.

Ryder.

Oh, my god.

If he were here, he’d help me, but he’s not arriving for another few hours. I’m completely unprotected while my former best friend holds a gun at me.

Am I going to die today?

Is this it? Is this my life? Over because I hired my friend to help me?

Will I never see Italy or Spain or New Zealand? Or fall in love? Or swim in the Black Sea? Or give birth and be a mommy? Or...any other dreams I have?

Will I never see Ryder again?

Oh, god. His words, the story he told me of his time in the Middle East, and how the woman died on his watch. This will haunt him if it happens again.

A tear slides down my face as I imagine him spending the rest of his life feeling guilty for my death.

But I also don’t want to die for me.

I have so much more to live for.

“You’ve treated me like a slave for months, Savannah. Now it’s my turn.” Gina waves the gun and I drop to my knees.

“A slave? I gave you a job.” I cry, even though I know I should shut up.

“We were trying to get your money, you fucking stupid bitch.” Gina laughs, and there’s madness in her eyes.

“What?”

“Your entire family hates you.” She spits.

Literally.

Spit shoots out of her mouth.

“All you had to do was share your wealth and stay away from Nick.” She takes a few steps closer and little noises escape me.

“Nick?” I squeak as I process her words.

My family hates me.

I knew they didn’t love me, but to viciously hate me is another thing.

Did they all plan this?

Have they sent her to kill me?

I’m confused and terrified.

I don’t know what to believe, but all that matters is I stay alive.

“I know you got the notes.” Gina laughs, then pushes her arm out, the gun waving uncontrollably.

Jesus.

I tremble, watching the gun.

“But you didn’t listen. You had to tease Nick with your”—she waves the gun at my body—“superstardom shit. Well, newsflash, he doesn’t want you. He loves me.”

Oh god.

“Gina, he doesn’t love you. Please. I tried to protect you.” I cry, pleading with her. “He sleeps with a lot of people. I wanted to protect you from heartache when I could see how much you liked him.”

Now I’m starting to see that she is not the sound-minded person I once thought she was.

The gun is a good giveaway.

“He asked me to go as his date to the Globes. Not YOU!” she screams. “He loves me! Not fucking you.”

I cover my head with my arms as she waves the gun at me wildly, spit going everywhere.

“Gina, stop!”

Then the gun goes off.

––––––––

RYDER

––––––––

I scramble up the wall, Aidan and Marshall giving me a boost, and then I’m over it and dropping to the ground.

Not again.

Out of habit, even though I know psycho Gina doesn’t have an army with her, I glance around and check the area.

Then I start running toward the house.

Savannah, I’m coming, sweetheart.

I can’t lose her. I can’t fucking lose her.

The cops have been called, along with an ambulance. I can already hear sirens in the distance. But time is not on our side if she has been shot.

We still can’t get the gates open.

I run like a madman, looking at every window on the front of the house—they’re closed—and start heading around the back.

Please have the French doors open, sweetheart.

She often does when she’s at home, but I know she had her team here for a meeting and there’s a chance they won’t be.

I could smash the window.

But if that gunshot wasn’t lethal, the next one might be if Gina thinks she’s under attack.

I open the side gate as quietly as I can, then make my way along the back of the house. Crouching, I stare into the living area.

Nothing. Fuck it.

Crunch.

I spin, pointing my gun.

“Put it down,” Aidan says.

“What are you doing?” I grunt in a whisper.

“Backing you up, asshole,” he replies, nodding his head for me to keep going.

I turn back and shuffle past the glass doors.

“And no one is getting fired, so you better be at work tomorrow,” he adds.

I almost smile. Almost...but Savannah could be lying in a pool of her own blood.

I try the handle and it’s unlocked. I hold my hand up, and Aidan stops. Slowly, I open it and we both step in.

After a moment, I turn to him. He waves that he’s going upstairs. I nod and point down the hall. He nods back and we head off in separate directions.

Savannah’s house is a mansion, so it’s large. Ten bedrooms and three stories. It’s a vast area to canvas with just the two of us, but I know if Aidan is here, more of the men will be backing us up soon.

Especially after a shot was let off.

Quietly, I creep down the hall, my gun pointing at the floorboards.

Then I hear the voices.

An icy chill rushes through me as I head in that direction.

Please be fucking alive.

I can’t lose her. I know it’s not just about losing another charge. I know I’m falling in love with Savannah Sinclair.

I just hope she’s still alive so I can tell her.

Even if I only get to watch her from the sidelines for the rest of her life.

I need to tell her I love her.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

SAVANNAH

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Pain blasts across my chest.

Gina is screaming above me, but I can’t focus on what she’s saying. I feel the life force leaving my body and can smell the coppery scent of my blood.

I know it’s mine.

My parents' faces flash before me, their judgmental expressions. My sister sneers. The desperation I’ve lived with for so long to be loved and accepted by them.

My career is a fleeting flash of lights, cameras, and adoration I don’t deserve—not that much—along with the lonely nights in my beautiful big home.

Then I see Ryder.

Lying with his arms wrapped around me, affection rich in his beautiful blue eyes; his arousal hard up again me.

I don’t regret anything we did. Not a single second of it.

I realize the moments with him have been the happiest of my life.

That I don’t care what anyone thinks.

My family sent Gina to kill me.

Or if they didn’t but knew how crazy she was, they didn’t stop her or warn me.

Both are just about as bad as each other.

How could someone hate me so much? She will go to prison, I realize, as I feel my life slipping away.

She’s destroyed her life.

She’s taken mine from me.

I close my eyes, succumbing to the pain, blocking out her ranting.

God how I could have loved you.

Goodbye Ryder.

Then I let go.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

RYDER

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“Oh, god, oh, god, oh god. Savannah!” I hear Gina screaming through the door. “Don’t you fucking die on me, you bitch!”

I have to get in there.

Gina is armed and the next bullet could hit me. But that’s why I have the vest on, so if I have to take one in the arm or leg, then so be it.

It’s my head that is the issue.

This is the problem with rookies. They’re a fucking terrible shot, so they’ll either miss the spot between my eyes. Or get it accidentally.

My only option is to burst in there and surprise her.

Nothing like fucking with fate on a Monday morning.

Unfortunately, we acted so quickly we didn’t comms up. So I can’t talk to Aidan. With two floors to search, he won’t be down here in time to create a distraction for me.

I could text him, but if Savannah is bleeding out, I need to move right fucking now.

“That bullet went off accidentally. If I’m going to fucking kill you, bitch, it has to be on purpose. Sit up!!! Sit up!!!”

Jesus.

I count to three, crouching, and reach up to slowly turn the handle.

Gina continues to scream like a lunatic.

I nudge it open and peek in as it swings wide.

Fuck!

My chest clenches when I see the scene inside. Savannah is lying in a pool of blood and could very well be dead. Gina is standing over her screaming, shaking, and waving the gun.

You motherfucker!

One way or another, I’m going to make sure her life is short.

I hope she does both of us a favor and tries to fucking shoot me.

“Nick was mine. If you’d just left him alone, you cunt. You fucking cunt.” Gina screams.

I stand and walk through the door with my gun raised and pointed at her head.

“Drop the gun and put your hands up.” I yell slowly and clearly.

“Do not turn around. Do not point your gun at me or I will shoot you.”

Please do.

Gina whips around in surprise, her gun wobbling everywhere as she finds me.

“Gun on the ground!” I yell this time, my voice the darkest I’ve ever heard it.

“You. You!” Gina replies, waving the weapon in the air as she turns back to Savannah. “You can’t save her. She’s dead.”

“You better fucking hope that’s not true.” I growl as I start to lose control of my emotions.

One bullet.

There is no one here to see it and I would not regret this death if she’s killed the woman I love.

Not for a single fucking second.

I feel Aidan arrive behind me.

“Put the gun down Gina or we both will shoot.” Aidan says in a much calmer voice than mine.

“She was trying to take Nick from me.” She screams as if we’d drop our weapons and be like, oh, really, please go ahead and shoot the living fuck out of her then.

Stupid bitch.

“I’m going to count to three,” Aidan says, moving around me and getting closer to her. “If the gun is not on the ground, we will disarm you.”

Aka shoot you.

“But she—”

“One.” He growls, his hands tight around his gun.

I’m ready to blow her fucking brains out, but my eyes drop to Savannah. Sweetheart. Please be alive.

“Two.” Aidan counts.

“No!” Gina yells and lifts her weapon. “She needs—”

Bang.

Aidan shoots her in the shoulder and the gun goes flying as Gina screams and falls to the ground.

Diving across the floor, I kick the weapon away while Aidan tackles her. I secure the gun and slide it into the back of my black cargo pants as I hear an ambulance siren close by.

They must have got the gates open.

Then I race over to Savannah and place my fingers at her pulse.

Not again.

Please, I cannot lose her. Not Savannah. I should’ve fucking been here this morning. We knew there was a risk, and that it could be one of her team.

What was I thinking?

I’ve failed her.

Even if she does live.

“Security panel on the front door.” I scream at Aidan just in case I’m wrong about the gates. I turn to Savannah and put pressure on her wound. “Open the gates.”

With Gina secured with plastic ties—a standard in our vests—he races out the door.

She tries to get to her feet, and I raise my gun. And point it at her head.

Gina freezes.

“Please. Do me a favor and do something stupid so I can kill you.” I sneer.

“You love her,” Gina says, surprised.

“You didn’t.” I shake my head. “You were supposed to be her friend.”

Next minute, the room is filled with police and medical people. I stand back and watch as Savannah is put on a stretcher, an oxygen mask on her face, and she’s wheeled away from me.

Aidan speaks to the detective.

I walk over and hand them Gina’s gun.

“I know you need a statement from me, but I need to go with her,” I tell the detective.

He glances at Aidan, and I can tell they know one another. In fact, I recognize him, so we’ve probably dealt with him before.

Who knows? I can’t fucking think. I just need to be with Savannah.

Adian nods.

“Go. We’ll get your statement tomorrow. You were the shooter, correct?” The detective asks.

“No. He arrived first. I unarmed her,” Aidan says.

“Got it. Go.” The detective nods his head toward the door and I’m through it one second later.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

AIDAN

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And this is why love is too damn crazy for me to be bothered with. Even dating is a pain in my ass. Imagine if I met someone like Gina who lost her damn mind and shot someone. Or had my girl kidnapped like Josh experienced.

Clearly, Ryder is in love with Savannah. God knows how it’s going to work out. She’s the biggest movie star in the world. This isn’t a Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner fucking movie.

I don’t want to see my friend with a broken heart, but I suspect it’s coming. Whichever way it works out.

There was a lot of blood.

If Savannah lives, I’m not sure there is a happily ever after for them. God, I wish he’d kept his distance and not fallen in love with her.

Or maybe I’m projecting.

Maybe it’s me who wishes I’d not let someone into my heart long ago.

A long time ago. Ten years.  

Enough time to have gotten over her. But apparently becoming a US Marine and serving my country, starting a business and dating what feels like three hundred women still hasn’t put enough space between us.

I still see her beautiful face when I’m thrusting into a woman. Trust me, I know how fucked up that is.

I’m not sure I believe in love anymore.

Yet...

Maybe I’m as fucked up as Gina, not being able to let her go.

“That should be enough for now,” Detective Stewart says, flipping his notebook closed. “So this is Savannah Sinclair’s house, huh?”

I shake my head. “She might be dead, dude.”

“God imagine. Like some kind of Marilyn Monroe tragedy.”

Fucking dickhead.

“I’ll send Ryder down to the station in the morning.” I say, glancing around. I spot Savannah’s phone and walk over, lifting it off the charger.

I see Ryder’s twelve missed calls.

Then I see one from Briar.

Jesus, that’s freaky.

“Okay, I’m out of here,” I say, glancing around at the police crime scene team. “My team will secure the property and stay until you leave.”

I call Marshall over and give him instructions.

“Make sure the guys monitor everything.”

“Got it.” Marshall nods and takes over. He has a body holster over his black shirt with the arms rolled up.

I stride through the mansion and out the front door, then freeze.

Is this a joke?

What the fuck is going on?

I stare as the woman before me wraps her arms around her middle and rants at the police officer.

“No ma’am. I can’t give you any further information at this point,” the policeman says.

“Ugh,” she grunts, and drops her arms and she spins away.

When she sees me, she, too, freezes.

Her mouth drops open as we stand staring at one another for a long moment.

“Hello, Briar,” I rasp.

“Aidan,” she whispers.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

RYDER

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My eyes dip as I drop my chin to my chest. These hospital chairs are uncomfortable as hell, but I’m not moving.

I’m not going anywhere.

Savannah has been out of surgery for three hours and the nurses and doctors are in and out every thirty minutes.

She was shot in the upper chest, but it missed any important bits, including her heart.

Thank fuck.

I feel like it got mine instead.

Gina, the fucking waste of a human being, will be locked up for most of her adult life.

I make no apologies.

I meant what I said to Gina. She should have loved her friend.

For someone so famous, all Savannah ever wanted was her family and friends to love her. Well, as it turns out, I do. I think I knew it from the moment I saw her. I’ve just been fighting it.

Chances are I’ll be doing it from the sidelines but I’m okay with that if it means she wakes the hell up and lives.

After all, I failed her.

I should’ve insisted that I be at the house this morning when she had her team meeting. With a number of her team listed as suspects of the threats she’s been receiving, I shouldn’t have left her alone.

Savannah said she was safe at home. That it was a team meeting. Asking what could happen with everyone there and her guards out front?

Well, we know the fucking answer to that now, don’t we?

She could get shot by an insane former best friend. A sociopath.

And it wasn’t her call. I was in charge of protecting her.

And I failed.

I hear a noise and my eyes shoot open.

“Fucking hell,” I whisper, rubbing my face. “I could have shot you.”

Josh smirks. “You wish.”

“You hope.” I smile.

US Navy SEAL vs. Delta.

Even though I’ve never confirmed it—and can’t—our unspoken competitive banter is always there.

Josh steps farther into the room and stands over her bed for a moment. “What’s the update?”

“Blood transfer. Surgery to remove the bullet. She should recover, but the next twenty-four hours are crucial.”

He nods. Then he glances around the room. “Where is her family?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, man. But if this was her last will and testament reading, I can tell you where they’d be. Right fucking here.” I growl.

“Jesus,” Josh curses. He watches her some more, then turns to me.

I read his mind.

He wants to know what happened between us and it’s time to confess.

“Yes, I’m in love with her. Yes, I will hand in my resignation,” I say, despite what Aidan said to me today. I don’t give a fuck about money. I have more than enough.

I broke the rules and would do it again a million times to share that time again with her.

“I should just fucking scrap that clause.” Josh sighs. “It’s not going to stop any of us. If we want a woman, we’re taking her.”

Yup.

I softly snort out a laugh and stand, sliding my hands into my pockets. “Yeah.” But it’s not that simple for her and me. “But she’s not mine. Savannah belongs to her fans.”

We stand there silently, both of us staring at the movie star lying in her hospital bed.

There’s a heaviness as I take in the woman I was tasked with protecting and how I’ve failed my friend. His business reputation is at stake here as well.

“I’m sorry,” I say into the silence of the room.

He knows what I mean.

“This is different. From before. You know that, right?” Josh asks.

I don’t reply. Because it is, but it’s not.

“Ryder.” He presses.

“Nah, it’s not. I should have trusted my instincts and been there with her this morning,” I say, then turn to him. “That day, in the desert. I knew. I had a heavy lump in my gut. The same feeling I had this morning.”

“You’re not a psychic, Ryder. She’s going to live. I don’t know the details of the first event, but I can guess. Those fuckers don’t value life.” Josh growls.

He’s right, they don’t. They see it as a sacrifice, blah fucking blah.

The asshole killed his wife, child, and himself, along with innocent bystanders that day. And no good came from it.

Not one single good thing came from it.

Except protecting more terrorists who then killed more people.

Rinse and repeat.

But I could have trusted my instincts and turned up at Savannah’s this morning to do my job. In truth, I was more focused on meeting with my team and making sure any concerns about my relationship with her were diluted.

Stupid.

Fucking stupid.

“You did work it out. If you hadn’t, Savannah would have bled out in her home and be dead right now,” he adds.

“Yeah.” I nod.

Josh is right. It’s not the same, but I still feel like I let her down. She’s lying in a hospital bed because I wasn’t guarding her.

Nothing can change that fact.

He claps me on the back. “Come on. You need to sleep, Ry. Let me take you home.”

I shake my head. “You SEALs, so weak. I’ll sleep on the damn floor.”

He chuckles.

“Dick. I hope you wake with a sore neck.”

We share a smile, and my best friend walks out.

––––––––

SIX HOURS LATER, I wake up and yeah, my neck is sore. Josh is a damn sorcerer.

I open my eyes and a nurse is standing over Savannah, giving her a sip of water through a straw.

She’s awake?

I stand too quickly and let out a curse, then crack my back. The nurse turns and her eyes run the length of my body.

Yeah, I’m used to that.

I removed my vest—it’s lying on the ground next to me—so I’m wearing my Black Hawke Security black t-shirt, black cargo pants, and a pair of Nikes.

She’s either attracted or intimidated by my size and tattoos. Either way, I’m not interested.

I walk to the other side of the bed and Savannah’s eyes follow me.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I try to say softly but my voice is rough and dry.

Savannah starts blinking and tears fill them.

“Just take it easy with your wife.” The nurse says, then gives me the I know she’s not your wife look.

Everyone knows who Savannah Sinclair is. I was sure as her bodyguard I would be allowed in with her, but I wasn’t taking chances. So I lied.

Too bad.

Afterward, I told the ward manager that I was her bodyguard and that because of who she was, she would require twenty-four-hour protection.

Whatever. I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Wife?” Savannah's voice is crackly.

I shrug. “Max needs a mom.”

The nurse gives her one more drink and then puts the cup on the table. “Try not to talk too much.”

Savannah nods, and I sit on the edge of her bed and take her hand.

“I’m alive.” She says, and a tear slides down her face.

“You are.” I smile.

“I thought I was going to die.” Her chest hitches as the emotions come rolling out.

“So did I.” My own voice is breaking. “So the fuck did I.” I lean down and pull her into my arms, as she loops hers around my neck.

“I’m so goddamn sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.” I growl into her neck. “I’m never listening to you again.”

“I was so scared, Ryder. So scared I’d never see you again.” Savannah rasps.

I loosen my hold and lift my head, gazing down at her. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Which is a lie.

Before reality crashes down on us, and our worlds split apart, I lower my mouth to hers and gently kiss her lips. Letting all the love I feel for this woman flow from me into her heart.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

SAVANNAH

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I’ve been home for a week and still feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. Instead of being shot by my best friend.

Former best friend.

Gina has asked to see me, but I’ve refused. I have nothing to say to her. It’s clear she has mental problems, and I am not giving her a single minute of my time to relieve any guilt about why she did what she has done.

Do I blame Nick?

No.

He turned up at the hospital before I was released with a huge bunch of purple flowers and was in as much shock about the whole thing as everyone else. He also shared that he felt some of it was his fault.

“She was a crazy fan at the end of the day, Nick,” I said to him.

“I shouldn’t have slept with her. I should have listened to you.” He shuddered. “God, I’m glad you are okay.”

“You can sleep with whoever you like. I was trying to protect my friend from you.” I shook my head.

“Me?”

“Yes. I thought you’d shag her and dump her.”

“I don’t promise women anything,” Nick said.

“Well, she thought she was going to the Golden Globes as your date,” I told him.

“Not because...oh wait, she asked me about that when...well, while we were in the middle of things. You know. I just agreed to...you know.” He held out his hands. “Surely she doesn’t hold a man to whatever he says in the middle of an orgasm.”

Ryder had walked in and growled. “Gina did. And she shot Savannah because of it.”

Nick lifted his brow. “He still here?”

I couldn’t hide my smile. I’m not that good of an actress. “Yes,” I replied.

And thank god he had been. Those few days after the shooting, I was scared and needed him with me.

But Ryder wasn’t here now.

Instead, Marshall was milling around the house, and yesterday Aidan was here. Plus, the two guards on the gate.

But no Ryder.

I feel like the other half of my heart has been ripped away from me.

“Did you really tell them I was your wife?” I asked him the next day while eating one of the bland hospital meals.

His gazed had darkened.

“Yes. But I made sure the hospital knows I lied, and that I was your bodyguard, using it to get past procedures during the emergency.” Ryder told me. “And the Black Hawke Security tech team is keeping a close eye on the media to ensure nothing has been leaked to the media in that regard.”

Oh.

“I wasn’t worried—”

“I know how this works, Savannah. You don’t need to explain,” he’d said.

And from that point onward, he’d been distant.

The way he’d wrapped me in his arms as if he cared, or maybe even more, when I woke up disappeared like smoke.

Briar had arrived a few hours later and then Michelle and even more people. For the next few days, there was a stream of visitors and while Ryder was there, he remained in the background acting only as my bodyguard.

It was only when I woke during the night that I’d find him sitting beside my bed holding my hand, dozing.

I let him brood. I knew he was freaked out about nearly losing me after what had happened to him previously. So I thought we would talk when I got home.

I never got the chance.

Aidan arrived the morning I was released and drove me home. I held back my tears until I was alone in my bedroom. Then let them flow.

I can’t believe he just deserted me.

Just like everyone else.

“Savannah,” Marshall says as he steps into the living room. I glance up. “Your mom is at the gate.”

My brows lift. “My mom?”

They hadn’t visited me in the hospital, but I had received a text saying they were glad to hear I was alive and recovering.

From the news.

From the fucking news media.

My own family.

“Want me to send them away?” he asks.

“Them?”

“Your sister is also with her. Ivy.”

Shit.

“Um,” I stare at the blanket laying over my legs, with Max curled up on top of it.

That’s right.

Ryder had him delivered to me the next day. Aidan pulled him out of the cat carrier when he arrived.

“Apparently this guy is going to look after you,” he said, shaking his head.

I let Max out of the carrier, thinking it might mean Ryder would be visiting.

I was wrong.

It appears he’s replaced himself with Max.

Ryder, where are you?

I know I have no right wanting him and needing him this much, but I thought he cared. I thought...I thought there was something between us.

Lust, yes.

Possibly love.

How we dealt with that, I thought we would work out together. I was shot. I needed time to heal and come to terms with those final thoughts before the world turned dark.

But he shut down.

And now he’s gone.

I don’t want to face my family after what Gina told me. Who knows how much is true, but one thing I do know is they don’t love me.

Are they capable of it? Are they broken themselves?

Maybe.

But that doesn’t mean that I should let them keep treating me like this.

“Okay. Yes, let them in,” I tell Marshall.

––––––––

RYDER

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“What’s wrong?” I answer the phone immediately when I see Marshall calling.

“Her mother and sister have turned up. You said you wanted to know if they visited,” Marshall replies.

Fuck.

“Right. Has she turned them away?”

“No.”

What the hell?

“Who else is there?” I ask.

“Fuck man, the cat,” Marshall snaps.

Max. I miss that little shit. Neary as much as I miss Savannah. But I can’t be with her.

I am in love with her.

Absolutely fucking in love with her.

“Just keep an eye on them. If they get abusive, kick them out,” I say.

There is nothing more I can do.

Savannah is a movie star. She can’t be with me, and I can’t spend my life watching her and breaking my own damn heart pining after her.

I hang up and pace my office.

Fuck I hate this.

I storm out of the office and head to the gym. At least I’m building muscle while I break my own damn heart.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

SAVANNAH

Two weeks later

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“Oh my god,” Briar gasps. “You look so beautiful.”

I smile and glide my hands down the side of my dress. Dolce & Gabbana ended up designing the strapless ball gown I’m wearing. It’s a shimmery powder blue and to cover my surgery scar they added a piece of chiffon which drapes over the shoulder and affixes to the skirt at my hip.

I love it.

Of course, there are pockets, which I slide my hands into, and shuffle my hips to make the skirt rustle.

Wow.

I feel like Cinderella who’s going to the ball.

Instead, it’s the Golden Globes.

After the media ran the story about me being shot by my assistant who was obsessed with Nick, and speculated about us being a love triangle, I decided to attend the awards evening on my own.

Being associated with him as a potential lover now is tarnished.

Michelle agreed.

“You do. You look amazing.” Michelle says, taking photo after photo.

“Thank you, everyone.” I turn to my team.

Ricco, Luis, Kali, Briar, and Ellie are all there, holding glasses of champagne as we take in all their hours and hours of hard work.

My long dark hair is twisted to the side and spiraling over the chiffon. My makeup is natural but glamorous and my nails are glossy with a slight blue sparkle in them.

On my feet are a pair of white Christian Louboutin with a pale blue sole.

That’s right.

Powder blue to match my dress. The French designer created a line just for me and they’ll be releasing it tomorrow after the Golden Globes.

Aidan and Marshall stand behind me, waiting to escort us into the limousine outside.

Speaking of, I can’t believe Briar knows Aidan.

I overheard them having a tense conversation yesterday, so I had to ask if everything was okay.

She was forced to confess, I suppose.

“We knew each other a long time ago.” Her eyes clouded over as she spoke.

“Like, knew each other?”

“We dated. It didn’t work. The end,” Briar said.

Oh.

“If it's uncomfortable that he’s around...”

“No. It’s fine. We’ve both moved on. He’s... no,” she’d replied and since then they both seem to just ignore each other.

I’ve been focused on getting my life back together. The day my mother and sister visited, I sat listening to them as I patted Max, feeling completely disconnected emotionally.

“How are you feeling?” Mom asked. “Gosh, we were worried.”

I nodded.

“I can’t believe she did that,” Ivy said.

“Just terrible. You know, Savannah, if this happens again, or something more serious, we have no idea how to deal with any of your”—she glanced around the large living room of my mansion—“affairs. So we should talk about it.”

And there it was.

“I have people who will do that,” I said flatly.

“Well,” she scoffed. “I’m your mother. Unless you’re married, that should be up to your father and me.”

Nope.

“It’s up to who I say it is. My lawyers,” I said, stroking Max.

“Whose cat is that?” Ivy asked.

“Why are you here?” I ignored her and dragged my eyes back to my mother.

“Listen, I realize you have people to deal with things and that’s great, darling, but surely this thing with Gina has taught us all we need to be a closer family and...”

“You aren’t in my will.” I suddenly spurted out because I was tired. And wanted them gone.

They didn’t care.

They wanted to know how to get their hands on my money if I died.

“What?” Ivy cried. “I told you, Mom!”

Mom’s soft expression—her fake expression—hardened before my eyes.

I smiled, because fuck her.

“Gina told me how you conspired together,” I said, shooing Max away.

I shot Marshall a glance, and he nodded to reassure me he was not going anywhere. Then suddenly I was filled with rage.

Where was Ryder?

Why wasn’t he here with me?

Like everyone else, he had deserted me, and I wanted to tell him how cruel he was. Why bother being kind and calling my family out for not supporting me when he was just going to do the same thing?

His words, which had meant so much, now just hurt. They felt empty and yet lay inside my heart like heavy rocks.

I took all my anger for Gina and Ryder and my family and let it swirl around me like a vortex of power. Then directed it at my mother and sister.

“The only reason I let you into my home was so I could give you the opportunity to show me who you really are.” I stood. “You didn’t visit me when I was shot. You’re here for my money. Spoiler alert—you will never get a single dollar.”

“We will fight it.” Mom hissed as she stood to face me. “I raised you. I deserve to get some of it.”

“You will fail. But I will enjoy watching you waste what little money you have trying,” I said, shaking my head. Then walked toward the door. “See these women out.”

Marshall smirked as we both ignored the abuse being thrown at me.

“Ladies, please leave the house,” Marshall said with great pleasure in his voice.

I had walked up my sweeping staircase as tears fell down my face. After that, I’d cried for days.

Ryder never contacted me.

Two days ago, weeks after I had last seen him, I sent Max home. I adored that beautiful cat, but it was like I couldn’t move on because he was a constant reminder of the man I knew I loved.

One I had accepted I would never see again.

I drop my glass after taking a long sip and then clap my hands together. “Let’s do this. Golden Globes, here we come.”

I’m very excited.

Everyone jumps into action. I might be dressed and looking like Cinderella, but only half the job is done. Getting there and walking on the red carpet is a huge event all in itself.

Aidan opens the door and I see three limousines lined up.

Weird.

I thought we only needed two.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

RYDER

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I watch Savannah step out the door in her beautiful blue gown, and my heart tightens in my chest. Christ, if I thought she was gorgeous before, I had no idea what I was talking about.

She is absolutely fucking stunning.

But never more beautiful than when she’s riding my cock and gazing down at me with eyes full of lust and feeling.

I hope I’m not too late.

I could be making a huge mistake right now, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that if I don’t, I’ll regret it forever.

This is an important night for her.

Possibly one of the most important nights.

She could win a Golden Globe for best actress. It might be her only win. Or she may have many.

You don’t know.

And one thing about spending some of your life in war-stricken regions is you realize how important the now is. Not the future and, yeah, not the damn past.

I did fail Savannah.

I did fail the woman in Iraq.

When Aidan turned up with Max hanging off his hand and shoved him into my chest, it ripped my heart in two.

Savannah had told me it was over with that one act. Which was fair enough. I don’t blame her. I’d kept away, ignored her messages, and protected my heart.

Telling myself I was protecting her.

“You know you’re an idiot, right,” Aidan said to me.

“For? Sharing my cat?” I took Max from him, and he jumped out of my arms and ran into his house like he’d just been staying at a friends for a sleepover but was glad to be home.

“She wants to see you. Not your damn cat,” he growled.

“You a shrink as well as a marine now?” I ask, walking into the house with him following.

“You risked your job to fuck her and—”

“I didn’t just fuck her!” I spun around and pointed at his face.

Stupid asshole smirked at me.

“Shit.” I dropped my hand and went to the fridge, pulling out two beers. I tossed one his way and yeah, I might have let it go a little short so he had to jump for it.

“Oops.”

Aidan laughed. “Don’t be a fool, man. I lost a girl once and trust me, it’s painful. It doesn’t get easier, and it never goes away.”

I sipped my beer.

“Who was she?”

“The love of my life,” he said, staring out the window longingly. Then seemed to snap out of it. “Why aren’t you there with her?”

I stared down into my beer.

“Let me see. Movie star falls in love with bodyguard who didn’t protect her from being shot—it’s not exactly a great love story.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want a love story. Maybe she wants you,” he says.

“Then why hasn’t she—”

Damn.

Saying it out loud, I realized what a dick I’ve been. Every single excuse I was looking for just sounded pathetic. I never gave us a chance. I’ve never asked her if she would want to be with me.

If she loves me.

Savannah has lost everyone and now I’ve deserted her, too.

What a prick.

But it could be too late. I might have pulled my head out of my ass a few days ago, but now I’m standing on the edge of the cliff not knowing how she’ll react when she sees me.

When I tell her how I feel.

This could be a terrible idea, as I said, but I’ve faced scarier things—debatable—so as my heart beats loudly in my eardrums and I watch Savannah walk toward me, I curse and draw in a sharp breath.

I tug on my tuxedo shirt collar as the door opens. Her team gathers her dress, and she climbs in.

When she’s settled, she glances down the length of the limousine and gasps.

“Ryder.”

“Hello, sweetheart.” I rasp.

––––––––

“I’LL BE IN the other car.” Briar winks as she closes the door.

It’s taken a team to set this entire thing up. So if Savannah rejects me and I have to climb out of the limo, it will be a rather public affair.

Fuck it.

Risking my pride is worth it.

She’s worth it.

“What are you doing here?” Savannah asks, looking confused.

I climb out of my seat and move down the vehicle, sitting as close as I can, given the expanse of her skirt.

“Max sent me,” I say.

It’s a dumb thing to say, but I’m a soldier, not Romeo.

“Ryder.” She shakes her head as the limo starts moving and we settle back into our seats. Her eyes widen and I see her panic for a moment.

God, I hate that. I hate that she’s worried about being with me.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Savannah asks, guarded, as she should be.

“For not being there for you,” I reply, holding her green gaze. “For not telling you how I feel.”

Her lips part.

“I’ve assumed a lot of things and hell, maybe I’m right and if so, then I will watch you walk into the awards tonight on your own. But if...if you feel the same way and...”

Fuck. I’m not usually this uncomfortable. I tug my finger under my collar again.

“If?” Savannah whispers.

“If you love me, too,” I say, then clear my throat.

“You love me?” she asks, as if it’s the most outrageous thing in the world.

“Yes, I fucking love you.” I snap. “Why do you think I stayed away?”

Savannah fish mouths it for a few seconds, then seems to catch up with what I’m telling her. “Wha... what? Are you joking? I thought you stayed away because you didn’t love me, you buffoon!”

“Buffoon?” I exclaim. “I tell you that I love you and you call me a buffoon.”

We stare at one another, our breathing labored, our expressions frustrated for a long moment, and then Savannah’s lips soften into a tiny smile.

“You love me?”

I nod.

“You love love me?” she asks and I’m starting to think she’s enjoying this.

“Yes. Christ. Can you please say something, Savannah!”

“You love me,” she says, this time as a statement.

Heaven help me, I need her to give me some damn indication of what she is thinking before I lose my mind.

“Ryder.” She leans forward and takes my hands. “Why have you stayed away? I needed you.”

“Because I thought it was the right thing to do. I’m your bodyguard.” I take her hand, fighting the urge to pull her onto my lap, but she’s all glammed up, and that dress is worth more than my house.

Probably.

“You saved my life,” Savannah says.

I shake my head.

“You saved my life, Ryder,” she insists. “You nearly broke my heart, but you saved me that day. Aidan told me how you worked it out and that’s why you came over.”

You nearly broke my heart.

“I can’t be in the shadows again, Savannah. I can’t watch you and not tell the world you’re mine. I’m not that man. I’m possessive and dominant and I want you in my arms, on my arm, and in my fucking bed.” I growl.

Her eyes glisten and hope springs inside of me.

“I don’t care,” she says.

Wow, that wasn’t the response I was after.

I sit back, shocked.

“I don’t care what you do or have done or what anyone thinks,” Savannah says, her eyes filling with tears. “All I want is you.” She starts waving her hand in front of her face. “Damn you Ryder St. James. I’m going to wreck my makeup.”

“Fuck your makeup.” I growl and tug her onto my lap.

Then I slam my mouth down on hers. Her lips part and my tongue slides in, claiming what I’ve craved and missed for too many weeks.

Savannah wraps her arms around my neck tightly and our kiss deepens.

“God, I want you. I want to sink my cock inside you and remind you who you belong to.”

“I know,” she moans against my mouth. “And in about fifteen minutes, so will the world.”

I grin.

Mission accomplished.

Savannah Sinclair is mine.

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SHE WON. SAVANNAH won the Golden Globe for the best actress. Now, after six hours of media interviews and celebrating at all the after-parties, I finally have her all to myself.

As expected, there were a lot of questions about who I was when we stepped out onto the red carpet. Savannah ignored them and simply stared up into my eyes as she placed her hand on my pec possessively.

Mine remained in the small of her back.

Finally, I can touch her in public and finally, I can call this woman mine.

When her name was called out, announcing her as the winner, Savannah leaped up and then kissed me in front of millions of people.

Fuck, I was proud.

“We look gorgeous together.” Savannah sighs, swiping her Instagram as the limousine takes us home.

“We look hotter when you’re riding my cock,” I say, sliding my hand up her skirt.

She giggles but spreads her legs.

Just like everyone else admiring it, I agree that her dress is hot. But right now, I would appreciate it much more on the floor. Or anywhere else as I try to find my way under it. Savannah giggles as I struggle, but I eventually slide my fingers inside her and join her in a moan as she clenches around them.

I need to make love to this woman right goddamn now.  

Finally, we pull up to the house.

“Thank god,” I say and kiss the cheeky smile off her face. “Inside. Upstairs. Naked. Right now.”

“Yes sir.” She salutes me.

I let out a growl.

“I’ll teach you to play a sexy little soldier another time if you want to role play.” Then I slap her bottom as she skips inside the house.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

SAVANNAH

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I place my award on my bedroom cabinet and then turn. I feel like I won twice tonight.

As Ryder walks into my bedroom like a wild animal stalking his prey, I know I did.

“I need you to unzip me.” I spin and give him a sexy smile over my shoulder

“With pleasure.” Ryder kisses my neck and I feel the dress give as it slides to the floor. Then, of course, he lifts me up and kicks it away.

When my feet touch the floor again, I turn and press against him, my eyes gazing up at this beautiful man.

“You have too many clothes on,” I say, despite the fact he’s already removed his black tuxedo jacket.

I begin undoing his bow tie as his blue eyes sizzle down at me with lust.

“I’m not fucking you tonight,” he says, taking both my wrists.

I blink, surprised.

“I’m making love to you, Savannah,” Ryder rasps.

My heart thuds in my chest.

This man loves me. I can only hope that I get to spend forever with him, but right now there is a lifetime ahead of us and I’m going to enjoy every minute of the journey.

“Lie on the bed,” he says, dropping my wrists and undoing his shirt buttons. Then it’s falling off his shoulders and my eyes are taking in his ripped solid chest.

He smirks.

“Get on the bed, sweetheart.” He leans down to my face. “It’s all yours, so get on the bed before I spank you.”

A grin breaks out on my face, and I kick my shoes off, then climb onto my enormous Californian king.

I slide my panties down.

Ryder grabs my ankles and pulls me to the edge as I squeal. I hear his rough chuckle as my thighs are parted and his mouth clamps onto my mound.

“Oh, god,” I cry.

“Nectar of the fucking gods,” he rasps and then continues his skillful act.

I’m wet from him entering me in the car with his fingers. Now they find my entrance again and plow inside.

His tongue, his teeth, his fingers bring me to orgasm quickly. All night the sexual tension has been brewing. The way his deep, seductive glances found mine. The brush of his fingers on the back of my arm, along my hip, across the curve of my neck.

The stolen kisses in hallways and as the night grew late, the I need to be deep inside you, whispers in my ear.

“Needy wet pussy,” Ryder says, licking his lips as he climbs over me.

All I see is him. His steely blue eyes, his broad tattooed chest and his square jaw.

“Let me inside you bare,” he growls. “I need to feel you flesh to flesh.”

I want that too.

I could never say no to him.

“But—” I start.

“No.” He grabs my face. “There is no but. This is it for both of us. I am never letting you go.”

My heart swells until it almost bursts, and when I feel the head of his cock sliding through my folds and he waits for my permission, I give it by pressing into him.

And nodding.

“Yes,” I say and then cry out as his thick, hard shaft slams into me.

“Mine,” Ryder cries.

I am.

And he is mine.

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EPILOGUE

RYDER

Waiheke Island, New Zealand

Three months later

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“God it’s so beautiful here,” Savannah says, walking barefoot along the sand. “So peaceful and serene.”

It’s mid-summer in New Zealand. We arrived a couple of days ago.

We planned to spend the next three weeks traveling around the country, but when I learned about the small island off the Auckland harbor, which has beautiful beaches and wineries, I arranged a surprise visit.

For a reason.

We flew over this morning on a helicopter and checked our bags. Then had a long lunch at one winery on a hilltop overlooking the ocean.

While Savannah has been recognized today, the kiwi islanders have mostly left us alone. The six-star resort has been incredibly respectful, promising us privacy and peace.

Something I knew was important to her.

Something she craves.

Nearly as much as I crave her. Constantly.

I’m so fucking in love with this woman. There is not a day that goes by that I question if she is the one.

I just know.

We stroll along the private beach, Savannah in a white sundress and straw sun hat. I’m in a long pair of tan shorts and white t-shirt. My sunglasses cover my eyes as I watch her skip along the edge of the water.

She’s glowing.

I want her to do a pregnancy test. I’m almost certain she’s carrying my baby.

But first...

Savannah skips over. “Let’s swim.”

“In a minute,” I say, taking her hips in my hands. I smile down at her questioning face, then sink to the sand.

“Ryder,” she gasps.

“Marry me.” I pull out the box with the ring inside. “Savannah, I couldn’t love anyone more than you, and I refuse to spend another day of this life without you in it. So please, marry me. Be my wife.”

I open the box and a tear slides down her face as she swallows.

“Really?”

“No, I’m joking.” I snap the box closed and start to stand up.

Then I grin and open it again.

“Oh.” She giggles, then slaps my shoulder.

I wait for her answer.

“Yes, I will be your wife, Ryder St. James.” She tackles me, throwing her arms around me, and we fall into the sand. I laugh as her mouth finds mine and god knows where the fucking ring is.

Kissing, laughing, and crying, we finally pull apart.

“Woman, where is your ring?” I shake my head.

“I only want you.”

“Liar. You want a fancy ring, too.” I lift her onto the sand next to me and go digging.

“Yeah, I do.” She giggles as I raise my hand with the diamond between my fingers. Then back on my knees, I sit in front of her and take her hand as I slide the four-carat diamond and platinum ring onto her finger.

Our eyes lock, love flowing like a river between us.

“I never knew love like this could exist. Not for me.” Savannah says, her eyes lifting from the ring to me. “Thank you for loving me.”

She doesn’t need to thank me. But I understand this woman. I know where she has come from and why she thinks the way she does.

In the past few months, she’s met my family and they love her. She’s learning what it means to be a part of my world as I am hers.

We fit.

Despite everything, it works.

“Thank you for saying yes to being my wife. I promise to protect you and our baby for the rest of my life.

“What baby?” She narrows her eyes...but she’s not that great an actress.

Golden Globe winner or not.

“The one I am 99 percent certain is growing in your tummy.” I lift my brow.

She tries not to smile.

“Savannah,” I say firmly.

“Um, congratulations. You’re going to be a daddy.” Her face breaks out into the most beautiful smile. “I was going to tell you at dinner.”

I pull her into my arms as I stand and swing her around.

Life is perfect.

I swear I am the happiest man alive.

“Fuck, I love you, Savannah Sinclair.”

Looks like there’s another wedding in the near future. Because I am not waiting long to make her my wife.

––––––––

Click the title to read Aidan and Briar’s spicy, second chance, military romance in THE MARINE – the next steamy installment in the Black Hawke series.

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Turn the page to read the book description and get set for another hot read.

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If you love dark mafia romances, check out The Darkest King—it’s FREE. Or turn the page to read chapter one!

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AUTHOR NOTE

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I created the Black Hawke Security series because of this book. I wanted to write a bodyguard romance and to be honest I wasn’t sure who it would end up being. Ryder stepped up and these two were everything I dreamed of and more.

I was never sure who Aidan would be, but I do now! I can’t wait to write his and Briar’s steamy second chance love romance. Expect lots of action, a whole bunch of enemies to lovers blurred with spice and then a happy ever after. The MARINE is going to be fun!

Thank you for loving this series – by preordering these books, because I plan my books so far in advance, it tells me you want more. So if you do, click preorder on The MARINE, and I’ll make sure more of these gorgeous characters get their happy ever after. Like... I’m pretty sure we’d all like to see Marshall heat up the pages. Right?

If you love dominant powerful heroes, I have over 40 other books. Some of my series start with a free book so you can try them out. Turn the pages for some first chapters and see what you like. My billionaires are possessive alphas you will fall in love with, and if you like some paranormal romance warriors (but not all the blood) try my vampires. I have a huge fan following and trust me, you’ll be wishing those heroes could be brought to life.

Lastly, I just know you will love some dark mafia with a military twist. Former US Marines undercover in a dangerous crime world. The Darkest King is FREE so grab that immediately and meet dark and broody Connor Barrett.

Love my books? – jump into my Facebook Group to tell me or join my BookClub and email me. I love hearing from you all.

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Happy reading everyone

––––––––

Juliette x

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Aidan Black left the Marine Corps to skip the red tape, but it’s a woman from his past he’s now trying to avoid ... until she disappears without a trace.

I had one job. One god damn job.

Not entirely true. Almost my entire team of former military, now private security, crew were working the biggest celebrity wedding of the year alongside me when it happened. I ignored my instincts because I was trying to be a gentleman. Okay, fine, I wasn’t. I was trying to protect my heart. The one she already broke.

But now she’s gone.

I’m a US f*cking Marine. How could a woman I once loved, and could barely keep my eyes off, disappear?

Without a trace.

Briar Sutton just became my number one job.

And the person who took her, my number one enemy.

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THE MARINE is a steamy private security romance with spice and tons of suspense and action. If you love former military and special ops alphas who fall for sassy heroines, then you’ll love the Black Hawke Security series.

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CLICK THE MARINE NOW!

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DO YOU LOVE DARK MAFIA

ROMANCE WITH A MILITARY TWIST?

Meet Connor and his team of US Marines working in an undercover crime world.

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THE DARKEST KING - FREE!

Book one in The Dark Kings of NYC series

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Connor

Fifteen years ago, a man murdered my family. A mistake he’ll pay for with his life... when I find him. My name is Connor Barrett and I’m the most powerful man in NYC. I fund politicians. I fuck beautiful women. And my enemies don't know my true identity. Yet.

I’ve been single-minded in my revenge until a woman with piercing eyes and sinful curves pours fucking whisky down the front of my Armani tux.

Then, I learn her last name.

I have a decision to make. Use her. Or toss her. But one thing is certain: I’m not keeping her.

Mia

My freedom is hard-fought, but in a few months, my father expects me to start work in the business. No thanks! I’ve spent my life trying to ignore the things my dangerous family does. My father agreed I could have two years to follow my dreams. My time as an event manager is nearly up.

Then Connor Barrett steps into my life and we shake on a partnership I thought would give me wings. Until I realize I’ve made a deal with a devil far more dangerous than my father.

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The Darkest King is the first book in The Dark Kings of NYC, a dark billionaire mafia romance. If you enjoy dark spicy romances with twists, battling mafia families, and dominant, protective heroes, then you’ll love this book. Expect a happy ever after in every book.

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1

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CONNOR

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Here we fucking go again.

Another gala event. Another speech. Another night spent with strangers who schmooze me for my money and power.

It’s all part of the charade I’m playing, I remind myself, tugging on the sleeve of my Armani jacket and adjusting my cufflinks before leaning back into the soft leather seats of my limousine. Nothing to prepare. My finance manager arranged the transfer of funds this afternoon, and my scriptwriter emailed me the same cut-and-paste version of the speech I’ve already given at least five times this year.

Only the name changes, with a modified reason why the cause is so important to Barrett Enterprises.

Except this one is important to me...personally.

The We Are Family Foundation is committed to the care of orphans in the U.S. and around the world—a cause I deem important. No one should be alone because they don’t have parents or a family.

There are eight fucking billion people on the planet. Few of them with the sort of money I have to contribute, to make a difference. Still, I’d rather have sent a check and sat at home, sipping on my Macallan Gold, watching porn, and jacking off.

Or rather, ordering in.

I don’t mean Chinese food.

Truth is, I don’t watch porn. I have no need for it. If I want a woman spread before me, I can have one at any time.

I’m Connor Barrett, one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in New York City.

Yet, I’m not who I say I am.

I’m both a ghost and, ironically, one of the most visible men in America. Why hide in the shadows when you can hide out in the open? The opposite of what they trained me to do in the marines.

Even more ironic—I have skilled security protecting me, which even they know is unnecessary. I’m six-foot four, broad and muscular. And I’ve been trained to kill.

I have killed.

Still, I can’t look over my shoulder while running a billion-dollar empire, doing deals with politicians and untrustworthy businessmen who would love nothing more than to see me fail.

That happens when people owe you favors. They know I’ll come knocking, and when I do, they won’t say no.

No one says no.

I’m the founder and CEO of Barrett Enterprises. Entrepreneur, philanthropist, investor, and prolific businessman.

Men want to destroy me.

Women want to fuck me.

I reach for the crystal cut glass filled with whisky in the console beside me and bring it to my lips, remembering the last woman who slid down my black silk sheets and wrapped her red-stained mouth around my cock.

God, I could do with round two.

It’s been weeks since I’ve had a good release without using my fist. I should’ve booked someone for this evening, but I didn’t think ahead. 

Booked? Yes. They’re not prostitutes—I’m paying for their discretion. I’m paying for control.

Something I never give away.

But I’m careful about the women I fuck. By the time they enter my penthouse, they’ve accepted payment and signed a confidentiality agreement—one no lawyer would ever let their client sign—which demands their silence and agreement to the terms of our time together.

One, should they break, that would destroy their lives.

So, not prostitutes, but they are escorts.

They’re instructed to undress and blindfold themselves in my private elevator. I’m not fucking Batman—everyone in NYC knows my address—but it just sets the scene. One which makes it clear why they are here, and that intimacy is not welcome.

I’m not looking for a wife.

I need to stay a ghost.

If my enemies knew I was alive, I would be hunted.

The last words my father said to me...Never tell anyone who you are, son. Run!

The familiar grinding of my teeth, the pain slicing up the back of my neck from my fury, brings me back to the present, and I blink. I stretch one of my legs and check that the knife strapped just above my sock remains invisible. Just as all the other weapons on my body are.

I don’t leave home without them.

“We’re going to be a few minutes late, sir,” Benson, my driver, says. I pulled him out of the military a few years ago. He knows how to scan for bombs, drive if we’re attacked, and protect both of us if shit goes down. “The traffic was built up near Madison Square Gardens.”

I’m silent, my body tensing, and my eyes slide over to Mack.

As if on cue, Mack Turner, my head of security, turns from the passenger seat and gives me a reassuring look. “It’s an accident, Mr. Barrett. Turn up here, Benson. Then take 27th Street.”

My body relaxes.

Mack is one of three men I trust with my life. He’s by my side ninety percent of the time.

Not when I fuck.

That’s not my kink.

While the We Are Family Foundation is important to me, I don’t give a damn about being on time—I’m the VIP guest, and they’ll wait for me. However, when you’re hiding in broad daylight from the mafia—that’s correct, all the mobsters and cartels—and are as powerful as I am, it would only take two minutes to go from being the hunter to the hunted.

Because I am hunting them.

They just don’t fucking know it.

Glancing at my Rolex, I note I’m ten minutes late. I run my hand over my solid jaw, rubbing my dark scruff. I need to fuck. I’ve been agitated and impatient recently. As a dominant and controlling lover, the act helps me release built-up energy.

I nearly snort at the word love. There’s no love in my life.

“Keep the car close when we arrive, Benson,” I say darkly. “I’m only staying an hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

When the limo pulls up outside the Convention Center, I wait for Mack to open the door, then I climb out and stand, running my hands over my Armani tux and glancing around.

The red carpet is empty. Everyone inside is waiting for me.

In and out. That’s the plan.

“Give Billy the night off tomorrow,” I say to Mack without looking his way. When I take a few steps and he hasn’t responded, I turn.

My dark eyes connect with his.

“You need a new location. It’s not safe, Connor,” Mack replies.

I nod.

He’s not disagreeing with me. No one would. He’ll have his reasons, and I trust him.

“Arrange it,” I say, then step into the hotel lobby. The sign for the event points to the large conference rooms in the back.

To be honest, I’m surprised someone from the company organizing the event is not greeting me. I was told they would. But it’s one less annoying person on this planet to deal with, so I couldn’t care less.

I make my way through the space and find the room and the main door. As I reach for it, it flings open.

Ommph.

“Oh, shit!” the small body who just slammed into me whisper-yells, and the door closes behind her with a click.

Then I feel it...

Wet, cold, and seeping through the front of my tuxedo.

As I grip the petite brunette’s arms and remove her from my chest, her eyes fly open wide, and I can’t ignore the magnetic pull from the crystal blue globes.

Jesus, she’s fucking gorgeous.

My cock wakes up and begins to swell. I imagine gripping all that long dark hair and wrapping it around my fist. Then, as panic fills her eyes, I’m tempted to smirk. But I never smile, and my hands, which have released her, want to touch her again, and that bothers me.

Who is this young woman?

“Connor Barrett,” she gasps quietly, knowing who I am. Her eyes drift down over the dark liquid on my shirt, and she bites her lip, letting out a soft curse. Then those lids dip further down my body.

Don’t look any lower, sweetheart, or...

Too late.

Her eyes shoot back to mine, and I say in a dark, thick voice, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

As she swallows, my lips curl up at the corners.

Tonight just got a whole lot more interesting.

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THE SEAL - CHAPTER ONE

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JOSH

“Josh, I’ve got Blaze Cartwright on the phone,” my office manager/receptionist/ruler of the universe, Penny, says.

I drop the weight bar with a clang and sit up before reaching for my towel. I notice a few of the team, who are also working out in the Black Hawke gym, glance my way.

“As in the rockstar?” I ask Penny.

“Yup.” She nods.

“Isn’t he retired?” I frown, walking to where my water bottle is and chugging down half of it.

I’m pretty sure people think Navy SEALs are magically chiseled, but that’s so fucking far from the truth I don’t even know where to start. We get our reputation because of the hard work and almost superhuman lengths we had to go through to earn our stripes.

That day was a long time ago, but staying in shape is just as essential since starting Black Hawke Security with Aidan Black, a US Marine.

Hence having a good quality gym in our building in Los Angeles.

“Turn on a radio sometime, Josh.” Ryder laughs as he climbs off the rowing machine and walks over.

I grunt.

I do that a lot. Apparently.

“I have Spotify,” I mutter then drag my eyes back to Penny. “Get a number. Tell him I’ll call him back.”

“I tried that,” she replies, crossing her arms in annoyance.

I swear she’s the only person in the universe who questions me and gives me sass.

The only person I let get away with it.

Maybe because she’s in her seventies and mothers us in a pick your shit up boys or I’ll put it through the shredder kind of way.

It was that or hire someone in her twenties or thirties who would distract my men or be distracted by them.

I’m not stupid. All of them would want to fuck her.

Or just would.

What a disaster that would be.

I’m not interested in female drama of any kind. I fuck them and thank them. Which I think is fair. I don’t want to know about their exes, their family issues, or even how their dog or cat did some cute shit.

Not fucking interested.

I run my towel over my still sweating forehead and ruffle my hair. It’s a little longer than when I was an active SEAL but not long enough so that the dark strands curl.

Annoys the hell out of me when it does that.

“Give him to radio boy here.” I tip my head to Ryder.

“He asked for you. Josh, are you going to take this call or keep Blaze waiting?”

Blaze?

I smirk. “A fan, were you?”

She drops her arms and huffs. “Of course I was. Everyone was. He sold one hundred million records while you were still in diapers.”

Ryder snorts and I shoot him a glare. He holds up his hands, but the smile is still there.

Jesus.

What could a retired—I thought—rock star want me for?

Black Hawke Security, or BHS, is a group of paramilitary experts. We provide services mostly to governments (yes plural) and the rich and famous.

But usually that means a huge name that’s all over TikTok, not some eighties rockstar.

Letting out a sigh, I toss my towel, miss the basket, and follow a muttering Penny out to my office.

“Put him through,” I say, continuing past her to the big office down the end of the hall.

“Put a shirt on!” she calls out.

I shake my head as I shut the door and reach for a black BSE t-shirt and tug it on, covering my offensive looking eight pack and tribal tattoos.

I grab a bottle of electrolytes out of my mini fridge then flop in the big chair behind my desk as the phone rings.

“Josh Hawke,” I answer.

“Mr. Hawke. Blaze Cartwright. I need your help,” he says.

Interesting.

I tap the keyboard to wake up my computer and Google his name.

I know who he is.

I know his music. Everyone does.

Penny wasn’t lying about the one hundred million album sales. Blaze also has one Grammy, and his band Sonic Rebel has three. In fact, I’d argue nearly everyone on the planet knows who Blaze Cartwright, lead singer of Sonic Rebel, is.

The Beatles, Led Zeplin, Aerosmith, Sonic Rebel.

He lost his wife, the love of his life, tragically to cancer two years ago. I knew that, but as I type in his name, I see that he’s come out of retirement after a decade and released a new album.

I read the news.

I don’t need to listen to the radio.

Thanks Ryder, you dick.

Still, I’m confused why he’d be asking for me in person. If he’s wanting to use our bodyguard services, Penny would’ve handed him to Ryder.

Aidan heads up the government contracts. Ryder manages the bodyguard services teams, and me? I look after our corporate clientele—you’d be surprised the interesting needs they have—and the black ops stuff.

Which doesn’t exist.

Off books stuff.

Working with some of the most powerful people in the world. Many of whom also don’t exist.

It’s complicated and better if I don’t explain.

And that you don’t know.

Blaze Cartright is likely one of those precious celebrities who wants to talk to the person whose name is on the door. Or in our case, the website.

Black Hawke Security.

I’m Josh Hawke. A Navy SEAL and dangerous asshole if my former colleagues are to be believed—and they should—and arrogant, if the women I reject at the end of the night are to believed.

Again, they should.

Frankly, I don’t care what people think of me.

My priorities are my elite team of former special ops and fulfilling the contracts which bring in millions (and millions!) of dollars into my company every year. Money aside, we protect the vulnerable and rid the world of evil.

I knew at a certain point in my SEAL career that I could do more out of uniform, but I respect the navy and thank the universe for the opportunity to serve.

Expecting this to be a short conversation and to hand him over to Ryder, I take a sip of my drink and then wipe my mouth. “How can I help you, Mr. Cartwright?”

“Blaze, please.”

“Blaze.”

Jesus, get to the fucking point.

I have a satellite call with the Middle East in twenty minutes and wanted to get in a full workout. That isn’t happening now, so I’ll have to fit in some more reps later tonight.

I might not be in the service anymore, but some days my job can be just as dangerous. Even more so without the backing of the government.

There are pros and cons.

Staying in shape and keeping my fitness at optimal levels keep me alive.

“My daughter’s life is in danger, and I need you to protect her,” he answers.

Fuck no. I’m not a trust fund baby bodyguard.

Jesus fucking Christ, I’m offended.

Did he read my bio? I’m a god damn Navy SEAL. Not a mall cop. No offense to mall cops. Someone has to do that shit.

Not me.

And I don’t look after spoiled rich kids.

I’m about to launch into my well-practiced spiel and transfer him to Ryder’s voicemail when he adds, “I’ll pay you triple. It’s just until they get this guy put back in prison.”

I lift my brows slowly.

He’s got my attention. Not because of the money—although the potential for referrals from Cartwright is huge—but I’m curious about who the escaped convict is. Usually, he would be on the BHS radar, and I’ve not heard a thing.

That’s both a concern—because why the fuck don’t we know—and I wonder who and why it’s been covered up.

And why.

“Keep talking,” I say as I change my Google search to find Blaze’s daughter.

“Eleven years ago, when Sonic Rebel was at the height of its success, my daughter Cassy was eighteen. The media took an interest in her and so did Isaac Miller.”

I stare at my screen as Blaze continues talking.

Christ.

I can see why she turned heads.

A young Cassy Cartright stares at me through my laptop screen, and she’s fucking gorgeous. Not just your usual Hollywood gorgeous. She’s naturally beautiful and lean, with long dark wavy hair and startling green eyes surrounded by thick long lashes.

I’m no stranger to beautiful women. Being six four and built like a brick shithouse I draw them to me like magnets. But beauty aside, there’s something about her stopping me from looking away.

Like the Mona fucking Lisa, I can’t put my finger on it.

Is she smirking? Cheeky?

No.

Is she a dirty little girl, hiding behind an innocent charade? I lean in and study her eyes.

No.

But it’s something and it has my cock twitching.

And my mood darkening.

I click my messenger and send Penny an abrupt message asking why we don’t have information about escaped convict Isaac Miller.

Penny replies. Say please.

Fucking hell.

Please GET me the information.

“So,” Blaze says, after wrapping up. “Isaac Miller was convicted and imprisoned for twenty-five years. Three days ago he escaped, and Cassy refuses to listen to me.”

She’s stubborn.

And stupid.

“Listen, how?” I ask.

“She’s going to work and won’t hire a bodyguard,” Blaze said. “I sent a couple of my team over there and she called the police. Had them removed from the premises for trespassing.”

My lips stretch into a smile.

I shouldn’t. It was irresponsible of her, but it still makes me smile.

“He will kill her, Mr. Hawke. I need someone who will not let Cassy run roughshod over them and can keep her alive. You come highly recommended.”

I’m not surprised.

Much of our work comes from repeat business with governments and personal recommendations. Hollywood is a small industry, and because our head office is in Los Angeles and they can afford us, we are their first call.

Given we didn’t exist when Sonic Rebel was one of the biggest bands in the world, it’s no surprise we don’t have their long-term business.

I see this as a potential opportunity to grab it.

And the woman staring back at me looks like a challenge.

I also don’t like men who harm women. I might not have been listening intently to Blaze as he explained what Isaac did, but I heard enough.

“We’ll make sure she’s protected and connect in with law enforcement to see if we can help track him down,” I say.

I won’t guard her myself, but I’ll meet with them and make sure I keep my word that BHS will keep Cassy Cartwright alive.

“Thank you.”

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CHAPTER ONE

Daniel Dufort lifted his whisky to his lips and nodded at the blonde who was regaling him with an apparently hilarious story of her father at their recent New Year’s party.

Daniel knew who the man was. The fact he’d actually spent time with his wife and family was a small Christmas miracle. He’d heard rumors—and his source was pretty reliable—that her father, Senator Johnson, had two girlfriends. Neither of which knew about the other. With Valentine’s Day approaching, it would be an expensive one for the politician.

Three women. Ugh.

Daniel shivered at the thought. He preferred his women in and out in an evening, not sticking around for breakfast or a ring on their fingers.

He glanced around Bar Hugo, one of Manhattan’s most exclusive bars, and saw most of his key connections had now left. The only reason he was still nursing his Macallan was, to put it bluntly, his cock. The blonde, who wouldn’t stop talking, was going to have her mouth around it within the next hour.

Beep, beep.

Daniel, we need to speak. Meet me in your office in an hour.

After reading his father’s message, he mentally rearranged his plans. Dropping his crystal glass onto the polished wooden bar, he replied to confirm he’d see him there, and then took the petite blonde’s arm. “Shall we go?”

Her face lit up.

“Your place or mine?” she purred.

“I have a meeting in my office tonight, so let’s head there,” he replied, leading her to the private exit. The last thing he wanted was to be photographed with her and more gossip spread about his relationship status.

When would the media give up? He was never getting married.

She hesitated slightly as his offer sank in. There would be no breakfast in bed. Daniel held her gaze. The decision was hers—she could take it or leave it.

He knew she’d take it.

They all did.

A billionaire in a suit was an aphrodisiac to these types of women.

Like his brothers, he had inherited their father’s good looks. At six-foot three with a muscular frame—which he worked hard to maintain in his gym—and a square jaw, Daniel was confident and powerful.

Some of it learned. Some of it was natural.

In the United States, and other places around the world, Daniel Dufort was frequently quoted in business and economic media, and unfortunately in less respected publications for the women he took to events. Rarely, if ever, was it the same women, and yet they insisted on discussing his marital status.

The gossip columns had a few cringeworthy nicknames for him. Try as he may, Daniel struggled to keep his sex life private. He only had a few rules.

No promises.

Nothing overnight.

No, do overs.

Okay, fine—he occasionally slept with the same woman twice, but not in the same quarter or it gave the wrong impression.

Daniel Dufort wasn’t interested in a relationship. Of any kind. He didn’t believe in true love, nor was he going to settle for something vanilla. However, he did enjoy female company, and the activities at the end of the evening, so he took dates to the events he had to attend, or to meet some social obligation.

And he wasn’t lacking in options.

But a relationship was not for him.

Settling down with a best friend and having missionary-style sex three times a week? No thanks.

As predicted, she’d walked through the door, so they head to Dufort Towers. Daniel hung his dark gray Tom Ford jacket on the hanger and turned.

Miss Johnson—fuck, he’d forgotten her name—lingered, taking in the valuable 57th Avenue view that overlooked Central Park. It was one of the best along Billionaire Row.

“Stunning,” she said, stepping up to the full-length glass.

Daniel removed his cufflinks, and they pinged as he dropped them on his custom-made oak wood desk. He rolled his shirt sleeves to his elbows and checked the time on his Piguet watch.

They had thirty-five minutes.

Daniel moved to stand beside Miss Johnson and dug his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to assume you give head.”

She turned, her mouth opening.

A good start.

Daniel leaned in and ran his finger through her hair. “Or I can bend you over my desk and fuck you. You decide.”

Her mouth closed and acceptance settled over her features. She was too proud to storm out, and he knew she was wet for him.

She reached for his fly and slid to her knees. “Both.” Her eyes lifted to his as she gripped his cock.

Daniel didn’t answer. He simply watched her tongue swirl around his swollen head and take him deeper, inch by inch.

Daniel let out a low moan. He gripped her hair and pressed in further while she moved skillfully over and around him. It wasn’t long before he was fucking her throat as she milked him dry. He groaned out his orgasm while she swallowed.

That was a bonus—he thought she’d be a spitter.

She sat back on her Manolo Blahnik heels and licked her lips. She was a beautiful woman, more natural than many in this town, but like all those before her, Daniel suddenly lost interest.

Most of them were here for his last name. They often had trust funds or money of their own, but he had power and they falsely believed by marrying him, they would also have power.

They were wrong. Power was something one either had or didn’t have. It came from within, as much as a bank balance.

Dufort Hotels, which made up most of the Dufort Dynasty, had properties all over the world. It had been built by his father and went public two years ago. Two years ago, his father had stepped away—though remained the majority shareholder—and Daniel had taken on the position he’d been groomed for all his life.

CEO of Dufort Hotels.

“Thank you for being my date tonight,” he said, zipping his pants. God, why could he not remember her name?

Megan. Shit.

“Give your father my regards, Megan.”

She stood and smiled at him, all sultry. “I think you’ve forgotten about part two.”

No. He hadn’t.

Fortunately, his father was always early and at any moment he’d be interrupted if things got tense. Occasionally, claws came out when they felt rejected.

“Looks like we are out of time. I need to prepare for my meeting,” he replied with no pretense of disappointment, then stepped away. “Please make use of the facilities before you leave if you need to.”

Daniel stepped behind his large desk and lifted his laptop open.

Megan cleared her throat and picked up her purse. “No, thank you. I will gargle the sperm from my throat with a glass of Cristal champagne when I get home,” she replied, then spun and walked out of the office with her head held high.

Despite himself, Daniel smiled.

Good for her.

A moment later, his father stepped into his office, thumbing his finger over his shoulder. “Was that Senator Johnson's daughter I saw leaving?”

“Yes. She accompanied me to the Glass Towers rebrand launch this evening,” Daniel said.

Glass Towers were a friendly competitor in New York City, but a competitor, nevertheless. He’d chosen the senator’s daughter as a political statement because of some government lobbying he was doing regarding the water system in Manhattan. The CEO, David Glass, disagreed with Dufort, which could cost Glass Towers a small fortune if it went ahead. But it was the right thing to do, and they both knew it.

Daniel smiled.

He loved the game, and he was good at it.

Johnathan Dufort walked over to the same spot Megan had performed in and rocked on his feet. It wasn’t unusual for them to meet in the evenings, but Daniel knew what this was about. It had been a hot topic for weeks and was his least favorite subject right now.

“I don’t have good news, son,” he said. “The agreement is still missing and now Senator Mackenzie is trying to extort us.”

He looked up.

“With what?” Daniel asked loudly. “He’s already doing that by claiming we owe him more interest on the initial loan than was originally agreed to.”

Nearly two decades ago his father had entered an agreement with his then friend, Bill Mackenzie. The amount had been substantial—in the high six figures—and was paramount in Dufort Hotels growing into what it was today. The loan was to be repaid in twenty years with three percent interest.

It was no secret. Their finance team had been putting the money aside over the years and were preparing to pay it out in this financial year.

A few weeks ago, they’d received a letter from the now senator requesting payment for a much larger sum. Attached was a copy of the agreement.

Except it wasn’t the original—it had been doctored.

The three percent interest had ballooned to fifteen percent. A rate no one in their right mind would agree to.

Very few people were aware of the situation, outside his father, his brothers Fletcher and Hunter, their financial advisor and lawyer. The latter had advised they hunt down a copy of the agreement before going to the authorities.

Johnathan Dufort had thought he had a copy at home in his own files, along with the one kept in the vault at Dufort Dynasty.

Apparently not.

His father ran a hand over his face.

Shit.

“Father. Tell me.”

Johnathan slammed his fist down onto the arm of the sofa next to him. “He has said we have thirty days to pay, or he wants his daughter married into the Dufort family. The prenup cannot exclude her from the Dynasty shares.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Daniel growled.

He knew what was coming next.

“She has asked for you.”

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CHAPTER ONE

KNOX

I hear the bathroom door open and drop my phone, glancing at the naked woman walking back into my bedroom.

Stacey Rodgers.

She’s one of the lawyers at Luxingtons, the high-end department store here in the United States, who stock our products. Our being Montgomery Enterprises.

Or more to the point, our brand Verity & Co., a fashion label which shares the same runways as all the big names in the industry. From men’s and women’s clothing to leather goods and perfume, we have luxury goods across the entire spectrum.

For those who can afford them.

My father, Ward, started the billion-dollar organization, and since I was a little boy, I have known that I would step into his shoes.

One day.

At twenty-four I’ve got many years ahead of me and I’m satisfied with my role as head of marketing. There is still much to learn, although I’d argue that my business and marketing degrees from Brown and shadowing my father from an early age has set me much further ahead than many my age.

My two younger brothers, Atlas and Levi and older sister, Bella, were much less interested in what Dad was doing. I remember Mom buying me a little briefcase when I was about five. I carried it everywhere. Inside I kept my GI Joe and a couple of toy dump trucks.

Serious business.

These days I spend the majority of my life in a suit—no briefcase or GI Joe—and the occasional sweats. A necessity when you’re six-foot three and over two hundred pounds.

I’m not going to attract women like Stacey by letting all that muscle turn into a pouch. She and I have been flirting for months. When she flew in for the half-yearly review, I invited her back to my penthouse for a debrief.

I mean, she’s a beautiful woman and the tan from her recent tropical vacation made her tall, toned curves even more appealing. Plus, she’s a dynamite in the boardroom.

My favorite type.

To break.

The corner of my lip twitches as I recall how she lost complete and utter fucking control just twenty minutes ago. I’ve been looking forward to the day she screamed my name.

She did.

Loudly.

“I’m surprised you didn’t get us a hotel room, Knox,” Stacey says, pulling her panties on.

I toss back the sheet covering my now soft member and climb out of bed. “No need. I know you’ll be professional about this,” I say, reaching for my briefs.

Most women I fuck are clear this is just sex. Raw, rough, and passionate sex. Nothing more.

Once or twice, I’ve got it wrong and had to have the talk. The one that goes something like; this isn’t going to happen. I don’t date. I fuck. I thought we were on the same page.

It always works.

Their pride kicks in and they give me a shrug muttering that, yeah, I just thought it was an enjoyable night and we could do it again.

Nope.

I don’t like leftovers.

Stacey, though, is highly focused on her career and climbing the ladder within Luxingtons. She has a reputation for being tough, and today that determination was focused on me.

It was sexy as hell.

Hence my hour-long erection and deciding to do something about it.

Now?

Now I want to open my emails and sip on a Macallan once she’s gone back to her hotel.

More than most, I’ve got a clear path for my future. In another ten years, or so, I’ll take over my father’s role as CEO and lead Montgomery Enterprises.

Already I’ve made an impression with the board and our partners. When I was appointed the director of marketing sales had been low. I know why. My mother had died a few years earlier, and we’d all struggled to come to grips with the loss. My father included.

That had reflected on the numbers.

Now, a few years on, we’re back in a strong phase and soon we’ll be launching our next Verity & Co. collection. It’s an essential season for the company to gain more ground on competitors who benefited from our earlier weak performance period.

That time is over.

We have a couple of months to get everything ready and I’m excited to really show what I can do.

“What if I want to do this again?” Stacey asks, doing up her bra.

My eyes drop to the lace, momentarily disappointed to lose sight of her deep pink nipples which had been pressed firmly into my sheets while I thrust into her from behind.

I’ll admit, I’m a breast guy. Which is why I’d moved her up the bed, then had her sit up and face the wall while I took a handful and continued to pound her ass. Palming the wall, I told her what a dirty slut she was and she fucking loved it.

I’ve yet to meet a woman who doesn’t.

I’m sure it’s because you need some excellent upper body strength to sustain it. That and you can lower your hand and stroke the clit, which is always a winning move if you’re ready for some clamping around your cock.

I’m always ready.

But do I think Stacey wants seconds? No, she’s testing me. We both got what we wanted. No heart eyes needed.

I’m not looking to fall in love.

Or commit in any way.

In fact, I don’t date. I don’t take women out to dinner. Or go to the movies. Or walk hand in hand on the beach and watch sunsets.

I fuck.

When I hit my thirties, I might feel differently about settling down, but that’s a few years away yet.

Right now, my priority is growing Ward Montgomery Enterprises—or WME as we call it—to double the size by the time I take the lead.

A bold target given it’s already a multi-billion-dollar company.

“You won’t,” I finally answer, sliding my gold Rolex back on and then walk into my wardrobe. I select a pair of Prada jeans and a black cashmere sweater then return to the bedroom to find Stacey dressed. “I’ll walk you down. My driver is only a few minutes away.”

I stop a foot away and study her reaction to the fact I organized the car while she was tossing the used condom in the toilet.

Yeah, I’m an asshole.

“I’m glad we did this.” She smiles.

I smirk. “It’s been in the cards for a while.”

Now leave.

Stacey reaches for her purse, and I guide her through my multimillion-dollar Philadelphia penthouse apartment. She turns and places a hand on my lower abdomen, and I feel like she’s breached my personal boundaries despite having her lips around my cock an hour ago.

Or it might’ve been two hours. She had good stamina; I’ll give her that.

“Stay up here, Knox. I can ride in the elevator on my own. I’m a big girl.”

“Then I’ll see you at the next review in six months.”

We politely smile at one another for a final moment as I hold the door open. Then Stacey is gone.

Click.

Jesus, I hope she doesn’t share bedtime stories with Selena, her senior manager. I fucked Selena six months ago when she was in Philly for the last review.

I’m a private man. Who I sleep with is no one else's business, but being part of a wealthy family means people think they have a right to know. Especially the media.

Then there’s my father.

Ward had seen Selena and I chatting after our meeting six months ago, and apparently picked up on our chemistry.

“Good night last night?” he’d asked me the next day.

“Yup.” I sat opposite his huge oak desk, sipping my coffee while Ward swirled his ink pen around his fingers.

Deceptively casual, as I’d quickly learned.

“So did you fuck Selena Warner?”

Jesus.

“What?” I choked on my coffee, coughing as I wiped my shirt and blazer. Fortunately, I have a closet in my office with several spare shirts, suits, ties, and shoes.

“Answer the question,” Ward pressed.

“Christ, Dad. Yes. I used a rubber. What’s the problem?” I had asked, irritated.

Does he think I’m fucking fifteen?

Shaking his head, he leaned back in his chair. “If you don’t know the answer to that, I’m even more disappointed. Lexington’s are an important retailer for us.”

His comment had fucked me off even more. I mean, welcome to the twenty-first century, Dad. How did he think people met? At damn work. Among other places.

People fucked, they dated, and one day got married and made little humans together.

“Is it on the news? No. Does anyone here know? No.” I widened my arms. “Selena left happy, so I don’t know what the issue is.”

He’d sat staring at me with those disappointed eyes, but I’d made it clear to him that he had no right to dictate what I did with my cock.

He was my father.

He was my boss.

But what I did in my personal life, as long as there was mutual consent and it didn’t interfere with business, was none of his business.

However, I’ve been a lot more discrete with Stacey, and the dozen other women since then. I’m confident he hasn’t noticed.

Would he feel the same if I started dating one of them? No. Well, sorry Dad, but wining and dining women and all that charming stuff is for other men.

I fuck.

I fuck rough and hard.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TWO

PAYTON

––––––––

Where are my damn shoes?

I spy them under the chair in my bedroom and dive for them. Then hop on one foot as I pull on the black pumps, and race across the other side of my bedroom, reaching for my purse.

I slept in.

To make things worse, today is the first day of a new job. And I need this job. Or rather, I need to keep this job.

I fell asleep without setting my alarm last night, so was blissfully dreaming about lying on the beach in the Bahamas when I suddenly bolted upright.

I don’t know what woke me, but I’m grateful.

Now I have exactly ten minutes to get to my workplace. The good news is I live in an apartment building about seven blocks from the StoryCraft offices. The bad news is my hair is still a little damp and I haven’t had any coffee yet.

I tug on my black blazer and yank my shoulder bag over my head. Then grab my tinted lip gloss off the dressing table and race out of my bedroom.

The first thing I did when I woke was push the button on my De'Longhi coffee machine, so the delicious aroma has filled my apartment. One day I’ll own a Keurig, but not until after I’ve paid my student loan.

So approximately seventy-five lifetimes.

Or so it feels.

It could be worse, I remind myself. Much worse, and it still could be. If I lose this job, my father will make me pay back half of my marketing degree (he paid the other half) and the first year of law school.

Yale Law School - I’ll let you do the math.

That was the deal.

A renegotiated deal.

I changed degrees, and he was highly disappointed in me. Let me backtrack a little. Both my parents are lawyers and we all thought I would be too. Now Dad is a judge and when I told him I didn’t want to continue, I think it broke his heart a little.

But my father is not a soft man, so his reaction was a surprise. Oh, I knew he’d be unhappy, which was why I spent months keeping my thoughts to myself and then when I finally decided and told my then boyfriend, Asher; I was extremely nervous.

More on him later.

When I confessed, they were shocked and asked a lot of questions. Including what I wanted to do next. When I said marketing, Dad didn’t look impressed.

“Hey, I could have said I wanted to be a stripper,” I said with a cheesy smile.

“Well, at least you don’t want to be a comedian,” Dad deadpanned.

“Are you sure about this?” Mom asked.

I nodded.

“I’ve been miserable all year,” I told them. “My grades are suffering, and I can’t see myself being a lawyer.”

“There are a lot of things you can do with a law degree,” my father tried.

“Dad. I... It’s not who I am. A marketing degree is a great foundation if I want to work for a good company or start my own business one day.”

“And do what?”

I threw up my hands. “I don’t know. I’m twenty!” I cried. “Just because you knew what you wanted to do. Most people don’t.”

“She’s right, Jerry,” Mom said in support.

His frowning face watched me for a long time before the ultimatum arrived.

“Fine. But here are my terms,” he said.

Did I mention my father was a judge? He wasn’t about to agree and let me walk away lightly. I had known this, but I was still surprised by what came next.

“Do your Bachelor of Marketing, but you must remain at Yale. Your mother and I will pay for it, but if you don’t complete it, you will pay back the entire amount and the first year of law school.”

My mouth fell open.

I’d always believed my parents were paying for college. They told me they would, and I worked hard to get into Yale.

“Plus,” Dad said. “When you graduate, I want to see you stay in a job for two years. You need to stick to something.”

“Oh, come on,” I cried, looking at my mom.

“That’s the deal,” my father had continued.

“This isn’t encouraging her, Jerry,” Mom had finally piped up in support.

He grumbled, then started on his fingers. “Guitar, hip-hop dancing, photography – and do you know how much cameras flipping cost? – and what happened to becoming a fitness trainer? Then you finally agreed to study law.”

In my defense, no one had told me how early trainers started in the morning. I don’t rise before the sun. Not for anything.

Not even coffee.

“I don’t have the flexibility for dance. You should really take some responsibility for that. After all, I’m half your DNA.”

“Again, thank goodness you aren’t looking at stand-up comedy. Yet.” His brows lifted.

I flopped back on the sofa.

“Great. So finish my degree and I have to stay in my first job for two years,” I clarified. “If not, I have to pay it all back, including the first year of law school.

“With interest,” Dad said, standing.

“What?”

Mom patted my leg. “We are not charging our daughter interest. Darling, you need to think carefully before you make this decision.”

“You know, this is part of me figuring out who I am as a person. It’s normal.”

“Christ, next she’ll tell us she wants to be a shrink.” Dad walked out of the room shaking his head while Mom and I began to giggle.

“Laugh away, but I’m not funding any more of this finding yourself rubbish. That’s on your dime now,” he called from the hall.

Then his head popped back around.

“Finish your marketing degree, Payton. Do at least two years in a job, then I’ll wipe your debt. Until then, you’re liable. Can I assume you learned what that means while you were studying law at damn Yale?”

More giggles.

“I hear you, Daddy,” I replied. “I promise.”

“I just want you to stick to something.” He shook his head. “You’ll be surprised what you learn about yourself when you are forced to commit.”

I hated that he saw me as some flake, when I really was just trying to figure out what I loved. Mom and I had talked for an hour after and she said she believed in me.

So I’ve been on a mission to prove to my father I could do this.

I graduated and then found a great job in Philadelphia. A year into the job, when I was nearly free of the financial burden hanging over my head, the PR agency sold and most of us were made redundant.

I freaked out.

The first thing I did was head home to speak to him in person.

“Dad, I didn’t resign, so this doesn’t qualify as me quitting,” I’d argued. After all, I’d been raised by two lawyers so I knew how to defend myself.

In my family's kitchen at least.

“I accept that,” Jerry Mills had said. “Find another job in thirty days and I will overlook this small blip.”

“I will,” I said. “So, one more year.”

“No. The clock starts again at day one,” Dad said, and even my mom looked shocked.

“What? No, that’s unfair,” I cried.

“Life is unfair. Stay in this new job for two years. That’s the deal.” Dad shrugged.

I had started to think repaying him was the easier option. Then I remembered how many hundreds of thousands of dollars it was and zipped my lips.

In any case, I had needed a new job so it was a moot point. Finding one that I loved and wanted to stay at for two years was the challenge.

Last week I had finally found something.

It was almost fateful. My bank balance was getting extremely low, and the idea of having to move home was getting worrisome. One of the account managers at StoryCraft had suddenly left because she’d won seventeen million dollars in the lottery.

Lucky for some.

When they asked if I could start straight away, I said yes and was offered the job.

“You don’t have as much experience as we would like for this client,” Alexandra, the owner, had told me. “But I’ll shadow you to make sure everything runs smoothly. This is one of our biggest and most important clients. They have an important launch happening in September, but you starting immediately gives us time to train you.”

I was excited.

StoryCraft is a well-known and reputable marketing agency. It felt like the opportunity had just fallen in my lap. And now I am running late on my first day.

Ugh.

I am so angry at myself for not setting my alarm.

I fill my coffee mug and run out the door. Downstairs I hit the pavement and walk/jog the seven blocks.

When I step inside the doors of the StoryCraft offices, my armpits are sweaty, and I know my hair is frizzy because I didn’t dry it enough.

Great.

“Hi Payton, please follow me,” a woman a few years older than me in a tight black pencil skirt and fitted matching blazer, says. Her smile is tight as she tucks a laptop under her arm.

“You’re a few minutes late,” she says loudly as we pass through an open plan environment. Faces lift and watch me, and I wonder if anyone is going to introduce me.

I send a few smiles out, but none are returned.

Oh, god, I hate it here.

“Is there somewhere I can put my bag down?” I ask as we turn a corner and head toward the meeting rooms.

She glances over her shoulder as we stop by a door, then suddenly stops and opens it, reaches into the cupboard and grabs a notebook and two pens.

One blue.

One red.

Then thrusts the stationery and laptop into my arms. I nearly drop it all as I juggle them, along with my sticky coffee tumbler.

“They’re waiting for you in room four,” she says and walks away.

My mouth parts in surprise as I watch her leave.

“Wait,” I call out. When she turns, I ask, “What is your name?”

“Karen.”

Of course it is.

I glance down at the items in my arms and catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of one of the glass walls.

Crouching, I drop everything onto the floor and pull my bag over my shoulder.

Shit.

The front of my shirt has a huge coffee stain.

Then the door to the meeting room opens.

––––––––

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CHAPTER ONE

Willow leaned on the counter and slowly counted to ten.

She’d been waiting for the sonographer for over thirty minutes. It was seven in the evening, and as the only person in the waiting room, it wasn’t clear why she was having to wait so long.

Her patience was dwindling.

Tap, tap, tap.

Her subtle attempt at getting the absent receptionist’s attention wasn’t working. This was the last place she felt like being; however, she’d injured her ankle over a month ago, and regular treatments weren’t working, so her osteopath had sent her for an ultrasound.

She didn’t have a problem with ultrasounds; the problem was the time taken out of her day. With multiple deadlines due, Willow was still learning how to balance her own needs over her well-paying but demanding clients in her new media relations business.

When she’d discovered the clinic was open late, she’d booked a six-thirty appointment hoping to be home by seven where she could heat leftovers and dive back into work.

Yet here she stood thirty minutes later, still waiting. She’d browsed Facebook, put hearts on all the Instagram posts, and sent out a tweet.

“Excuse me,” she called out as politely as she could. “Hello!”

The receptionist who had greeted her earlier popped her face around the corner. She held her phone in her hand and looked annoyed at the interruption.

Willow inwardly sighed. The girl was probably making a tick tock, or whatever the kids called it these days. Not that she was old, but yeah, it wasn’t her thing.

“Can I help you?”

“Sorry to disturb you”—no, I’m not—“How much longer will the wait be?”

Chest heaving, the girl didn’t even attempt to hide her annoyance. She walked to her computer and began tapping away with some barely contained huffs. They both squinted as headlights from a large SUV pulled up onto the sidewalk. Willow covered her eyes and looked away.

“Let me see,” the girl said once whoever was driving had turned the headlights off. “He should be available soon. We had a delay earlier, which created a backlog.”

Willow ground her teeth.

“Oh.”

She forced a small smile to her lips, then returned to her seat where she imagined how the conversation could have gone.

Why in the hell didn’t you tell me, then I could have rescheduled?

Oh, he won’t be long. It’s only half an hour.

That’s my decision to make. You took that decision from me.

Lady, chill out.

Don’t tell me to chill, you tick-tocking—

“Oh, they’re back,” the receptionist said, interrupting her hypothetical argument—which she was winning, by the way.

She was winning.

Willow looked out at the big men who had exited the SUV.

“Who are they?”

The men were all dressed in black. Their attire should have made them look like thugs with all that leather and denim, but there was an air of wealth about them. Perhaps it was the big SUV, the quality of their clothes, or the chunky, shiny watches on their wrists.

One thing was for sure—they were all ridiculously good looking, as if they’d stepped off a movie set. Rough but polished.

“I don’t know. For the past few weeks, they’ve shown up religiously every night before heading upstairs to the medical rooms.”

Then they did just that. All six of the men walked in a tight group, gathering around one dark-haired man as if they were secret service. Willow wondered if he was a celebrity or politician hoping for anonymity. Or perhaps she watched too much television.

“What kind of treatment do they do upstairs? Cosmetic?” It was a wild guess, but why else would you sneak in for treatment late at night so regularly.

The girl looked away from the testosterone-loaded view and shrugged.

“That’s just the thing; no one really knows. Recently they’ve been working late into the night. It’s weird.”

Willow stood to watch their progress, taking in their long, confident strides. Outside, the sky had grown dark, but streetlights poured golden light around the area, offering good visibility.

She’d been right—they were all extremely attractive, each of them taller than the average man, with broad shoulders, thick necks, and solid thighs.

“Perhaps they’re security?”

“Hmm, who knows?” the girl mumbled as her finger swiped across her phone screen.

“Pretty hot security if they are,” she added with a small grin, despite losing her audience.

Suddenly, one man turned his head and looked directly at her. Her heart began pounding in her chest, racing as she stepped back, gasping.

Silver, ethereal-looking eyes seemed to hold her on the spot. His eyes narrowed, yet his gaze didn’t feel threatening. As they continued to stare, she felt her body and face heat unexpectedly.

“What?”

What?

The spell broken, Willow’s eyes flicked to the receptionist.

“What?” Willow asked back.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said something.”

She looked back at the man whose eyes stayed on her a moment longer before he turned to the man standing next to him and laughed casually, totally carrying on with his life.

Which was fine. Except she was suddenly overcome with a strange and irrational feeling of loss.

“Willow Thompson-Davies?”

She turned abruptly and found the sonographer standing with an iPad in his hand, greeting her.

“Are you okay?”

Willow blinked. “Yes. Oh, yes, I was just...never mind. Hello.”

“I’m Mark. Sorry for the wait; it has been one of those crazy days,” he said with a grin that had the power to melt panties.

She grabbed her purse and followed him through to the treatment room, wondering if she was being pranked by a relaunch of Candid Camera.

She could just see it.

Now we see Willow being greeted by the male stripper posing as a medical practitioner. She does not know the men outside will join him in a moment and do a Magic Mike routine.

“Now, let’s get your pants off.”

Willow’s mouth fell open. Mark grinned again and nodded to the door on her left. “Pop right in there and change into the scrubs.”

Her face flamed as she began mumbling words which were not of the English language.

I really need to get laid.

Clearly her mind was in the gutter, and judging by the handsome man’s grin, he was enjoying her discomfort.

Thirty minutes later, she followed him back to the reception. Her eyes immediately glanced outside and found her silver-eyed man and one other leaning against a power pole. She hadn’t stopped thinking about him during her appointment. The absence of his eyes had left an icy shiver throughout her body that she’d been unable to shake.

He was beautiful, in a dark and dominant way. His hair was black with waves that fell just below his ears, and he had a strong, masculine jaw. Even from here, she could see he hadn’t shaved recently, which gave him that sexy edge women loved. She was one of them.

The jacket he wore only emphasized his muscular upper body, and as he dug his hand into his jean pocket, his T-shirt and pants separated just enough to expose an inch of silky olive skin.

She licked her lips unconsciously. His head turned. She couldn’t breathe. He held her stare for a moment, then glanced between her and Mark.

She whipped her head around as Mark spoke. He was leaning flirtatiously against the counter beside her, smirking.

“I will send the results to your osteopath tomorrow afternoon. They’ll call you and talk through them.”

“So, you can’t tell me anything?” she asked again, trying her luck.

He shook his head. “My expertise is in taking the images. I leave the diagnosis up to your specialist.”

“Not even a hint?” She smiled and lowered her eyelashes. It had been years since she’d flirted, so she must have looked like she had something stuck in her eye.

He laughed, confirming her suspicion, and shoved a piece of paper in her hand. “Not even a hint. Now be gone with you.”

“Fine.” She laughed, and with one last glance at the receptionist, she hoisted her handbag onto her shoulder and stepped out the door.

Like all street-smart women, Willow pretended not to look at the darkly clad men, but she couldn’t help herself. The second man was also large and muscular, but an inch or two shorter. He had a very predatory way in which he held himself, which gave off a dangerous vibe the silver-eyed man didn’t have. Or at least not as much. She was certain they were military or security of some kind.

The closer she got to them, unable to reach her vehicle any other way, the louder her heart thumped in her chest.

Around her, businesses were turning off their lights, closing for the evening, but the area was lit by nearby streetlights, so she felt safe enough.

The men may be supersized—and my God, they were, from their heads to their hands, legs, and arms—but that didn’t make them dangerous. Heck, she was a sucker for bulging biceps. Usually. Today, her inner voice told her to be wary.

A few steps away now, and she felt a zing rush through her. A ringtone broke the silent tension as “Who Let the Dogs Out” filled the night air.

Willow glanced at the man with the silver eyes, and her heart skipped a beat as the corner of his lips twitched. His friend answered his phone and took a few steps away. Silver Eyes stepped away from the pole and watched her. It wasn’t a threatening move, yet it made her tense.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said.

“No. You won’t,” she replied, deliberately looking directly into his eyes in warning.

His smile grew, softening his strong jawline and sending warm shivers through her body. Warmth that had no place being there.

“Good girl.”

God, he was gorgeous. He was just the right amount of bad boy with a spoonful of class. Now that she was closer, she could see just how well his jeans fit, and that his leather jacket was clearly designer. Before she could help herself, a blush hit her cheeks, and she gave him a shy smile.

Damn traitorous body.

Her blush spread its way down her face, across her chest, and descended to her core.

What is wrong with me?

She felt an unreasonable need for him to reach out and touch her. To touch him back.

If I could just run my fingers over those biceps and through his hair.

Willow scrunched her eyes closed at her desperation. She’d never reacted to a man like this so quickly. God, she needed to get laid.

Maybe if she hadn’t been distracted, she would have seen them and been able to avoid the group of kids on skateboards that came flying around the corner. When she attempted to dodge them, she cursed in embarrassment as her ankle gave out. Arms flailing in the air, Willow began to fall, her head hitting the trash can and...

Am I flying?

Large hands caught her and placed her gently on her feet, holding her steady.

“You okay?”

They both looked around at the kids who were rapidly calling out apologies and wisely hightailing it out of there.

Shaking, Willow took a deep breath and ran her hands over her body to make sure her pants weren’t ripped.

“Shit, thank you,” she said, rubbing the back of her head. There would be a nice lump there soon. “How did you catch me so fast?”

He shrugged. “I work out.”

“No kidding,” she replied without thinking.

He let out a little laugh as Willow wobbled on her ankle and stepped out of his hold.

“Seriously though, thank you. God, I’ll probably need another stupid ultrasound.” Willow glanced over at the clinic and cringed. The sonographer was still leaning over the counter, chatting. When she turned back, she found those silver eyes narrowed at her.

“Did that man harass you? I’ll—”

“No. Nothing like that,” she replied quickly, surprised by his response. “It was just a long wait, and I’m impatient.”

He nodded, looking unconvinced.

She wobbled some more. “Hey, listen, I better put this on ice. Thanks for catching me.” Willow gave him a grateful smile, straightened her handbag, and began limping away.

“Wait,” he told her, barking out the order and surprising her again. “You can’t drive like that.”

He had a point. She could feel her ankle swelling and her head beginning to pound. Her house was only a few minutes’ drive away, but it was still unsafe for her to be behind the wheel.

Willow looked around, considering how safe it would be to leave her car if she ordered an Uber.

“Sure, I’ll...” She turned, swayed, and once again, the man steadied her.

“Let me give you a ride home.”

What? Oh, hell no.

“No, that’s not necessary.”

Nor was it wise. Her body, despite the accident, felt like a volcano about to erupt in his presence. Every time he spoke, a vibration ran through her.

“I’ll book an Uber.” Willow pulled out her phone and wrapped an arm around her middle. Despite the inferno raging within her, she could feel the chill of shock setting in.

The other guy ended his phone call.

“You saving damsels in distress now?” He smirked, then raised an eyebrow as Silver Eyes removed his jacket and laid it over her shoulders.

“I’m giving this damsel in distress a ride home. Give me the keys.” He held out his hand and tipped his chin up toward the building in front of them. “I’ll be back by the time he’s done.”

He? Who was “he”?

The jacket was warm and had a deliciously masculine scent she wanted to melt into. She let out a little groan and may have wiggled into it a little. Still, Willow considered herself street smart. She hadn’t survived living in Los Angeles all her life by getting in vehicles with strangers.

“I’m not in distress.” She shrugged off the jacket and began to hand it back, quietly mourning the loss of the delicious scent.

She would not be accepting his offer of a ride home nor getting in a vehicle with him. He looked like the strong, protective type, but that didn’t mean she could trust him. Or his pecs.

He pushed the jacket back in place. “You hit your head and can barely stand up. Let me help you, woman.”

Woman?

Oh, so it was like that, was it?

She knew exactly the type of man he was. Protective, yes. But also dominant and bossy. Probably incredible in bed, but a complete control freak outside of it. Unfortunately, she had a love-hate relationship with those kinds of men. They turned her on, but she hated being controlled.

Or have I just never met a man mentally stronger than me?

“Like I said, I’ll just book an Uber.”

“No, you won’t,” he growled. Like, an actual growl.

Startled, she looked up from her phone, a chill running through her. “What?”

Something felt wrong.

“It’s not safe,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes, glanced at his friend, then laughed to lighten the situation. “I don’t even know your name. You’re a stranger. I appreciate you catching my fall, but I am not getting into a car with a stranger late at night.”

Okay, so it wasn’t that late, but still. Did this man think she was stupid? This was Los Angeles, for goodness’ sake. Getting into a car with someone who looked like he had a gun stashed in those tight, hot pants was stupid and irresponsible.

I don’t think that’s a gun.

Willow began removing the jacket, but again, he stopped her.

“Frank. My name is Frank.”

His friend coughed. She glanced at them both with narrowed eyes. “Your name is not Frank.” She really hoped she hadn’t just offended him. But seriously, Frank?

“Okay, fine, it’s Brayden. Now you know my name, so let me drive you home.”

“So now you’re just making up names and expect me to jump in your car? No, nope, nada. Not happening.” She stepped away, removed his jacket, and looked around for a place to put it.

“Bray, what are you doing? Let the human go and let’s wait for Vincent.”

Human? And who was Vincent?

He took the jacket from her, gripping her hand while holding her gaze deeply for a moment. Willow felt mesmerized and frozen. Then he turned to his friend.

“No. Tell him I will see him tomorrow before the sun comes up. I won’t need the vehicle.”

“Oh, fuck.”

The presumptuous, sexy son of a—

“Come,” Brayden said, his silver eyes determined as they sparkled in the artificial light.

Her mouth fell open as he reached down and lifted her into his arms with such speed, she never saw it coming.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“Close your eyes.” His voice was husky as he stared down at her.

“Wh—”

“Close your eyes. It’ll be easier.”

She couldn’t explain why she did, but she closed them, and felt her whole universe shake.

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DOWNLOAD THE VAMPIRE PRINCE FREE and start this 13 book steamy paranormal romance series today!

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ALSO BY JULIETTE N. BANKS

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BLACK HAWKE SECURITY

The SEAL

The MARINE

The BODYGUARD

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THE DARK KINGS OF NYC — NEW

Steamy dark mafia romance

The Darkest King - FREE

The Ruthless King

The Savage King

The Avenged King

The Merciless King

The Gangster King

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THE DUFORT DYNASTY

Steamy billionaire romance

Sinful Duty - FREE

Forbidden Touch

Total Possession

Desire Unbound

Dark Surrender

Ruthless Temptation

Naughty Festivities

Wicked Praise

Beautiful Ruin

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THE MONTGOMERY BILLIONAIRES

Steamy billionaire romance

DIRTY Seduction

DIRTY Temptation

DIRTY Player

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THE MORETTI BLOOD BROTHERS

Steamy paranormal romance

The Vampire Prince - FREE

The Vampire Protector

The Vampire Spy

The Vampire’s Christmas

The Vampire Assassin

The Vampire Awoken

The Vampire Lover

The Vampire Wolf

The Vampire Warrior

The Vampire’s Oath

The Vampire’s Fate

The Vampire’s Obsession

The Vampire’s Storm

Related books in the Moretti universe 

The Vampire King

The Claimed Wolf

The Alpha Wolf

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Click the link below to join, answer the group questions and just remember it’s R18!

PRIVATE READERS FACEBOOK GROUP

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