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ETHAN
I thought Foster and Callan were overexaggerating when they told me how much they disliked Adrianne’s co-star, but it wasn’t until I met the guy myself that I understood what they meant.
He was smarmy and handsy, and it was obvious that he wanted to sleep with Adrianne, despite her telling him flat-out that it wasn’t going to happen.
“He keeps coming back to the idea that I’m single,” she said over lunch. She and Ryan had been filming together for a week now, and Lee gave them the day off to “recharge their emotional batteries”. Sounded a lot like horseshit, but at least we got to have Adrianne for an entire day to ourselves.
Callan snorted. “You’re not.”
She gave him an impatient look. “But I can’t say anything about it, can I?” She groaned and leaned into my shoulder.
I met Foster’s eyes across from where we sat. He raised an eyebrow as if to ask, Do you want to be the one to say, or should I? “We could make it easy,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“One of us could be your boyfriend in public,” Foster explained. “If that’s what you wanted.”
Adrianne’s frown only grew deeper. Shit, not what I’d intended. “What? Would you draw straws or something?” She shook her head. “No, no. I could never ask any of you to do that.”
I put a finger under her chin and raised her eyes to mine. “We’re grownups,” I reminded her. “We can handle a little discomfort if it would
mean things would be easier to handle, publicly-speaking.”
A part of me wanted her to disagree, but I also knew that optics were everything in her line of work. “I’d rather not,” she said finally. “I know you would all deal with it . . . but I don’t want to.”
Relief bubbled in my gut, and I could see the same all over Foster and Callan’s faces. “Okay,” I said. “Whatever you want, Princess.”
Adrianne raised her eyebrows at me in an exaggerated way. “Anything, huh?” She kissed me, quick and fleeting.
I snorted. “Starbucks or ice cream?” Adrianne had a sweet tooth, and it was becoming a thing to go get one or the other after whatever meal we got to eat around her table.
Foster perked up at that. “I’ll go pick up your Starbucks order,” he offered.
Callan snorted. “Yeah, just her order.” Foster punched him in the arm, which Callan tried to block. They ended up in a heap on the ground.
I stuck my fingers between my lips and whistled, sharp and short, and both men snapped to. “You both can head out to Starbucks,” I said. “Adrianne will text her order.”
Foster waved me off and went for his keys on the counter. “I already know it.” As he passed her, he dropped a kiss on her upturned lips. “Be right back.”
Callan hadn’t moved. He looked like he was in the mood to argue, but Foster pushed him toward the front door. “Don’t be an ass,” he said.
We didn’t hear Callan’s reply because the front door shut just a little too hard behind them. Adrianne sighed. “Callan didn’t have to go,” she said.
“Yes, he did.”
She looked at me. “Because you told him to? You’re not in the SEALs anymore, Ethan.”
I shrugged. “It’s just how our dynamic is.”
Adrianne studied me like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “Is it hard for a military man to walk away from it all?”
Sweat pooled in the small of my back. “Nearly impossible,” I said. “But we had to.”
“Because of Laura?”
Hearing her name made my body tighten almost painfully. My hands suddenly itched with drying blood that I had long since washed away. I would never forget that day, the noise and the smell of burning flesh.
Laura had been crushed by a destroyed wall. I’d held her in my lap, murmuring soft, nonsensical words to her as the light drained out of her eyes.
The military had shipped her body back to her family, and we couldn’t even contact the family to give them our condolences.
“Yeah,” I breathed out. “Casualties happen in a warzone. Everyone who joins up knows the risks . . . but when we found out that we’d been involved in friendly fire, it was impossible to swallow.”
Adrianne stood up from the table and grabbed my hand. She pulled, and I followed her into the living room. She directed me to her couch, and when I had settled, she sat on my lap and looped her arms around my neck. Adrianne’s cheek rested against my jaw, and for a moment, we just breathed together. She’s holding me, I thought dumbly.
I patted her back. “I’m okay, Adrianne. It was a long time ago.”
She shook her head. “I can see how much talking about her hurts you all,” she said, voice low in my ear. “But I think it’s because you don’t talk about her at all. She’s haunting you.”
Adrianne wasn’t wrong. Laura had become a ghost that followed all of us, and we’d taken her on as some kind of burden to bear . . . but that burden was tainting all the good memories that we had of her.
“She was beautiful,” I told Adrianne. “Really smart and funny. Didn’t take any of our shit.” A smile curled the corner of my mouth. “She loved making these crazy bets. One time, she got Foster to streak through the base after he lost in a poker game.”
Adrianne scoffed. “Foster did that?”
“I know,” I said with a laugh. “He was bright red the whole time, but she made it worth his while later.”
“She sounds like someone I would have liked,” she said.
Everyone loved Laura . . . but I couldn’t help but think that if Laura were here, we would have never met Adrianne, and that would have been a shame. Adrianne was sweet and a little goofy and absolutely gorgeous. “You would,” I said.
She sat back enough so that I could see her warm, honey eyes. “It’s okay that you love her,” she said. “I’m not jealous of a dead woman. I’m not going to begrudge you if you miss her.”
I cupped the back of her neck and brought her in for a kiss. Adrianne melted against me. She opened her mouth to me . . . just as the front door
banged open. Adrianne yelped, and I nearly threw her on the ground so that I could shield her. But then, Callan called out, “Merc!”
If he didn’t sound so upset, I would have screamed at him for scaring us. “What’s going on?”
Foster came through the door behind Callan, holding two iced coffees and scowling. He handed Adrianne the fuller of the two drinks. “Have you checked your phone?” he asked.
She shook her head. After the disturbing call from her stalker last week, despite having changed her number, Adrianne rarely touched it. She kept her phone in the kitchen, plugged in, for emergencies. Callan handed her his phone. I stood over her shoulder and saw the article he had pulled up. Adrianne Montoya’s Dr. Marcia Falconi Gets Frisky on Set, First Look at New Falconi Heroes. Beneath it was a picture of Adrianne and Ryan locked in an embrace.
“That’s the picture they went with?” Adrianne was dismayed. “Lee told us that they were going to send out some of the set pictures to get the buzz going, but he didn’t say which pictures.”
“That’s not the worst of it,” Callan growled. He took the phone and opened up the next tab. It was a tabloid site that took the same picture, but its headline was a little different. Adrianne Montoya and Ryan Jacobs Get Steamy in New Movie. “The article doesn’t even mention the movie’s name,” he said. “It just focuses on the ‘clear chemistry’ between you and Ryan. There are dozens of stories like that.”
Adrianne sighed. “I’m sorry. This tends to happen with every movie. The paparazzi love when co-stars fall for each other, you know? They try to control the narrative.” She handed Callan back his phone. “I should have warned you guys. I just didn’t know it would happen this quickly.” She took a sip of her coffee and made an involuntary little hum.
Ring. Riiing. It was Adrianne’s phone from the kitchen. She had an old- timey ringtone that was obnoxiously loud. She had made the point to change it so that we could hear it from anywhere in the house. She jolted, and for a moment, there was a look of real fear. It was a reminder that we were stalled in finding and stopping her stalker. So far, there hadn’t been any more presents or calls, but I knew we couldn’t let down our guard.
Adrianne went for her phone, and we went with her, and we all let go of our collective breath when we saw that it was the production company on
the line. “Hello?” There was talking on the other end that we couldn’t hear. Her face fell. “Sure, I’ll be there soon.”
She hung up and met my gaze. “I have to go to the executive office at the studio. They want to speak with me.”
Not exactly what we’d hoped for on a day off, I thought. “I’ll go with you,” I said. When Callan started to argue, I added, “They know I’m the head of the security team. I can almost guarantee that whatever they want to talk about is going to affect the arrangements we made with them involving your safety.”
Adrianne sighed. “More than likely,” she agreed. “Let’s get this over with, okay? So we can hopefully enjoy the rest of our day.” She gave Foster and Callan a quick kiss and grabbed her bag, and we were out the door.
The drive to the studio was quiet. Adrianne stared out the window, gently chewing on her lip. I reached over and took her hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I know,” she said absently before she glanced my way. “It just makes me feel like I’m headed for the principal’s office, you know?”
I chuckled. “You think that’s how my employees feel about coming to see me?”
Adrianne considered that. “I can’t imagine it,” she said, “but I’m sure they do.”
“You don’t find me intimidating?”
“I did when I met you,” she admitted, “but I am also insanely turned on by the whole ‘Alpha male’ vibe you have going on.”
“Alpha vibes?” I snorted.
She waved a hand at me. “You know what I mean.”
I did, but I liked teasing her. It was fun to get her flustered, and I could see the anxiety melting off her. “No, tell me,” I said. “I’m really curious.”
“You’re the kind of guy women want to climb, and men wish they could beat, but they can’t, so they follow him.”
“Sounds like I could be a real asshole.”
She tsk-ed and shook her head. “Not at all. Some guys let the Alpha thing go to their heads, but you’re an actual leader. Callan wouldn’t do anything you said if you weren’t.”
I hadn’t thought about it like that before, but it was true. Callan could be just as pigheaded as I could. He could be just as stubborn and opinionated.
But he still looked to me in times of crisis. I took her hand and brought it to my mouth, brushing my lips across her knuckles.
The conversation dropped as we got closer to the studio, and by the time I found a parking spot, she was anxious again. Going into the building, we were shown directly to the waiting room of the studio head, Grant Cheswell. There was an administrative assistant sitting at a glass-top desk outside the closed door. “Ms. Montoya,” she greeted as we approached, “Mr. Cheswell will see you now.” When I tried to follow her through, the assistant made a little ah-ah sound and held up her hand. “You’ll have to wait outside, sir.”
“I’m Ms. Montoya’s bodyguard,” I said with a tight smile. “I can’t guard her body out here.”
The assistant held firm. “Mr. Cheswell will keep Ms. Montoya safe, sir,” she said and pointed to the chairs across the way. “If you take a seat, they’ll be back out in a few minutes.”
I wanted to argue, but Adrianne motioned me toward the waiting chairs. “It’s okay,” she said. “I won’t be too long.”
Unhappily, I sat and watched as she disappeared behind the door. Crossing my arms over my chest, I did my best not to glare at the assistant at her desk. It wasn’t her fault, after all, but my mood had soured considerably.
Still, I noticed that the assistant kept glancing at me and pretending not to and then furiously returning to her computer. So, maybe Adrianne wasn’t wrong about my being intimidating. After ten minutes, she still hadn’t come back out, and I was on a hairpin trigger.
“Sir?” It was the assistant. She had, obviously, gotten over her fear. Now, she was eyeing me in a way that, before Adrianne, would have had me flirting and asking for her number. The kind of guy women want to climb, Adrianne had said.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked. Her voice was smokier now. “Sparkling water? Coffee?”
“No,” I said. “Thank you.”
Her brilliant smile dimmed with disappointment. “Well, if you need anything at all,” she said.
I gave her a tight smile. “Thanks.”
Another ten minutes, and the office door finally swung open. I stood as a red-faced Adrianne came out. Tears threatened to fall down her cheeks,
but she was doing an admirable job of holding it in. “Adrianne?”
She shook her head. “Let’s go, okay?” she said stiffly. Her eyes begged me to comply.
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Adrianne didn’t say anything all the way back to the car. As soon as she was safely tucked into the passenger seat, the tears that she had been holding back began to fall.
“What happened?” I asked. I reached for her hand, and she clung to me. “Grant was thrilled about the publicity,” she said. “They want more of
it.”
“Which means what?”
Adrianne looked absolutely miserable. “They want me to ‘lean in’ to the
tabloids.” She rolled her eyes. “They didn’t say that I have to date Ryan, but they want us photographed together outside the studio.”
“Absolutely not.”
“That’s what I said, but it was . . . heavily implied that if I didn’t, they would find someone else to play Dr. Falconi.”
I swore out loud. It was Hollywood-this happened all the time-but somehow, I was still shocked that they would threaten her place in the movie over something like this.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said softly. “This movie could be a huge gateway for me, and I like playing her.”
“You can’t let them fire you.” As much as the whole situation was repugnant, Adrianne’s losing her role would be worse. She would regret it, and it might get her blacklisted from other projects.
Adrianne sighed. “They gave me until tomorrow to make a decision,” she said. “Can we, maybe, forget about it for a while? Get Foster and Callan and do something fun?”
“Absolutely.” I kissed her hand. “Anything you want.”