“And?”
“He provides specific dating advice. Where to meet and bed celebs. He was about to make a post about you, which included a video of him entering your estate and a short clip of the fuck room, which he filmed while you were in the shower. Devon Hassel, my boss, gave Toby Olsen a call this morning while you were asleep. Toby won’t be posting the clip or contacting you again.”
I gaped. Well, shit. That little fucker was resourceful. I hadn’t even noticed he had a phone on him.
Terrance lifted his cool eyes to mine. “I recommend deleting his number and message history. Unless you specifically want to pursue the relationship, in which case, we have a standard NDA he can sign.”
Definitely not pursuing anything with Toby. Shame, though, about his vacuuming asshole. I’d have enjoyedhaving a go at him a few more times. “And how did you convince him to remove the video?”
“Standard procedure.”
“Which is?”
Terrance looked at me like a long-suffering parent at his wayward child. “We threatened him, Lothair.”
“What? You told him you’d beat him up?”
Terrance laughed, and I perked up at the sound. He had a nice laugh. “Of course not. We’re not the Mafia. If he published the video, he’d face a lawsuit, which would cost him a substantial amount of money.”
“Oh.”
“Do you now understand why we have to do background checks on your conquests?”
I didn’t like the word conquests. I didn’t bed people to win anything. I simply wanted sex. Terrance waited for my answer.
I went through the catalog of emotions in my head. Annoyance that he’d been right, disappointment, a nip of anger, and then, determination. I was a stubborn guy on a good day, and when I wanted something, I could be relentless.
Soon, I’d have Terrance on his knees, with my dick inside him one way or the other.
So I smiled pleasantly, dropped the towel, and threw it over my shoulder. Terrance’s eyes flickered to my groin before he quickly looked away.
“Sure.” I smiled sweetly at him. “Whatever you say.”
Then I walked away, flashing him my naked ass.
4
The Escort
TERRANCE
The afternoon air was cooking,so I’d foregone the suit. Instead, I wore a white tee and a blue baseball cap. I’d been shadowing Lothair to breakfast with the executives and to the filming location. Now there was nothing for me to do but stand aside and watch.
Lothair chugged some iced water and handed the empty bottle to his set assistant with a polite thank you. He could behave like an arrogant ass, but I begrudgingly respected how invariably nice he was toward staff.
Today, he was filming an action scene in an industrial area near the desert. After a short fight sequence on top of a truck, he was supposed to get on a motorcycle, ride up a ramp onto the roof of a warehouse, and zoom it over a ten-foot gap onto another rooftop.
For some reason, the director wanted everything in one shot. It was all a pointless spectacle of egos high on testosterone, but Lothair seemed jittery with excitement.
He really was an adrenaline junkie.
Dressed in a dusty black tank top and holey jeans, he bounced on a sprayed-on mark next to the main camera. His muscles glistened with oil and sweat.
“Go!” the director yelled, and Lothair darted toward the truck and flung himself over the hood to the other side. He stepped on one side mirror and easily jumped on top. The stuntman representing the villain was already on the truck bed. He made an elaborate move, kicking his leg in a circle to cut Lothair’s feet from under him.
“Stop! Fucking stop!” the director screeched. “We’ve been over this ten times already.”
The stuntman looked sheepish while the director and choreographer yapped at him like rabid dogs. He mouthed an apology to Lothair, but Lothair patted his shoulder and hopped down with a smile. He moved back to the starting point and shook out his arms.
