“Umm…there’s been a change of plan. Hayley’s unwell, so I’m going to work here today. You can stay if you wish, though, of course, you are free to leave, Fo—Mr. Holloway.”
I glance up to find ocean-blue eyes dancing mischievously at my almost slip-up before he tips his head to one side in confusion. “With all due respect, you must know that can’t work. It’s too late to organize so many bodies in and out of Ataraxia, and besides, security is in place for the scheduleyouprovided.”
We stare at one another, apparently at an impasse, until he asks, “Don’t you employ any other assistants?”
“I do.” Lifting my chin defensively, I push myself to stand. “But Hayley knows how I like things done. She knows what questions to tell the interviewers to steer clear of. What angles work best for photographers in certain light, and all the other stuff, like scheduling and?—”
“I have security in place. There will be no changes.” His tone brooks no argument, and I frown in consternation as he finishes with a finality I know I can’t bargain with. “Everythingwillproceed as planned.”
Even so, I’m desperate here, so I try one final time to persuade him. “Hayley was supposed to help me run lines before the reshoot – which I have on Thursday, in case you’ve forgotten?—”
Except he cuts me off. Lips that I know to be insanely soft lift on each side before he composes himself to regard me with impassive eyes.
“Why do I get the distinct feeling that you’re being intentionally obtuse, Miss Hart?” Ford quirks a dark eyebrow, taunting me.
He’s not wrong. Icouldgo without Hayley. After all, I’m only using her illness as my excuse to avoid being around him for any longer thanabsolutelynecessary. Yet something about his words is akin to waving a red flag at a raging bull, and I find myself narrowing my eyes as I hold his laughter-filled gaze.
“I’ll be ready to leave in five.” Then I breeze past him with my head held high. “Try to keep up, Mr Holloway.”
And as I reach the arch leading into the hallway, I hear his deep voice call behind me, “Don’t worry, Miss Hart. I’m a fast study. I’ll take care of everything. Lines included.”
CHAPTER 8
FORD
“Beckham sure does keep you busy.”
Emmy meets my eyes in the rearview mirror, simply shrugging before reverting her gaze to the traffic-filled street outside her window.
After successfully completing an interview with Keller Media, we stopped off at Vesper to finalize Emmy’s wardrobe for Thursday’s reshoot before we swung by the offices of Andreas Vitello, public relations expert to the stars.
As I’m familiar with Andreas, having worked with him to develop the system to minimize paparazzi involvement in Emerson’s life, it had only taken a few minutes to run through upcoming engagements before we were on the road again.
Next up is the dress fitting with Ava Sinclair. Then another interview.
I’ve kept interactions to an absolute minimum, as has she.
“He says that being busy is preferable to being irrelevant.”
I shake my head with a snort of amusement. “That does sound like something an agent would say.”
Silence follows for a beat before the heavens open, and within seconds, a torrent of rain is teeming down onto the car.The sound fills our ears as traffic finally begins to move, and we edge forward the last hundred meters or so to our destination.
“I’ll grab an umbrella. One sec.”
Emmy opens her mouth, obviously to protest, but I’m faster, ducking out of my door and onto the street, where I’m instantly soaked to the bone. After grabbing a large black umbrella from the trunk, I round the car, open the rear passenger door, and ensure Emmy remains dry, holding her against my side as we quickly dart inside the elegant fitting rooms.
I stay by the door to shake off the umbrella as one of Ava’s assistants appears with a bright smile.
“Miss Sinclair will be with us in just one moment, Miss Hart. May I get you?—”
The sound of hands clapping resonates around the mid-size reception area before Ava Sinclair breezes in. “Enough, Sophie. I’m sure Miss Hart has very little time to spare for trivialities, judging by our previous sessions.”
Emmy’s face breaks out into a wide smile before Ava gathers her against considerable cleavage. I can’t help smiling alongside both women until Ava’s eyes meet mine.
As the previous head of security at Rogue, I’ve met more than my fair share of Manhattan’s crème de la crème, including the aristocratic Brit, Ava Sinclair. A smile lights up her cheeks as she steps around a bewildered Emmy to grip my biceps.
“My dear Mr. Holloway!” She leans up on her tiptoes as I bend down to receive a kiss on each cheek. “I have missed your presence at Rogue these past years. Mr. Fratelli isn’t as easy on the eye as a certain someone, hmm…”
