Jules drained the champagne flute in three gulps then dropped like a rock onto the couch. “Thanks.”
“Want another?” he asked.
She shook her head. The adrenaline rush of running from the altar was wearing off. “Anyone heard from Sloane?”
No one had.
All eyes followed her around the room like she might snap. “Did anyone know Mason knocked up Olivia?”
Genuine disbelief radiated from Yasmin, Aaliyah, and Abigail. Tabitha, too, if Jules were being honest, though her cousin wore a smirk. The four-man security detail held no expression. She didn’t know why she’d expected a flicker of anger from Rhys. He never reacted.Never.He was more machine than man. His brain cataloged information like data points siphoned through a computer processor.
Her parents thought he was charming and had heavily influenced his decision to leave the FBI and work as her bodyguard whenever their family asked. Big asks, considering he lived on the opposite side of the continent. But he was loyal to the Lowry family via Titan Group, where he and Wes worked.
Before she’d asked the room about Olivia and Mason, had Rhys even known why they had sprinted from the wedding like they were running from the bulls in Pamplona?
Sloane’s phone lit up with an incoming call. Abigail answered, walking to the far side of the spacious hotel room. Was that Mason trying to explain? Or trying to grovel? Or maybe it was Sloane, ready to enact whatever plan she’d concocted.
Abigail ended the call and grimaced as she forced her shoes on again. “Mom and Dad are in their hotel room, but Mom wants to see you.”
God, there was going to be a business lesson in that incoming lecture. Her parents, Hollywood royalty, had meant well but lacked that parental love she saw with other families.
Tabitha popped up. “I can get her.”
Tabitha’s offer was less about being helpful and more about having face time with the venerable scriptwriter. Maybe if she played her cards correctly, Tabitha would find double the luck with her dad being in tow.
Abigail rolled her eyes.
Jules didn’t have the mental energy to spend on her cousin. An offer of help was an offer of help, and she would rather Abigail stay in the suite anyway. “That’s great, Tabs.”
“Take security with you.” Rhys gestured to the men who had brought up the rear of their escape, likely calculating the attention her parents usually received. “You two. Go with her.”
Tabitha faltered. “We don’t need that.”
“Yeah, you do.” With one major exception in their past, Jules trusted his say-so completely. “We do whatever Rhys says.” If he said, “Jump,” they jumped. If he said, “Travel with security in tow,” they were accompanied. But she drew the line at sharing secrets with him. That had burned her before. Yeah, yeah, he’d done it for her own good, but that history would always be there.
“Not everybody is America’s sweetheart,” Tabitha muttered.
“Shove it,” Abigail lobbed at her. “You know you love a bodyguard at your side.”
Tabitha rolled her eyes. It was her signature move onForever Falls, a soap opera that traded in jabs and drama of a wealthy family. Backstabbing and betrayals filled every episode. Tabitha wasn’t a leading lady, but it was only a matter of time—so long as she stopped being a pain in everyone’s ass or if Sloane figured out a way to elevate Tabitha to the next level.
“Can you take me?” Tabitha asked Rhys.
“No.”
In Hollywood, Rhys only worked with Jules. He showed up whenever her stalker was on an attention-grabbing streak and always coordinated her security team at major events—Cannes, the Golden Globes, late-night shows, and family vacations. He exemplified everything a business partner should be. Responsible. Transparent. Flexible. She really should have asked Rhys to marry her instead of Mason.
Tabitha left with two bodyguards.
Abigail took another phone call and disappeared into the other room. Aaliyah and Yasmin quietly shuttled to their bags and personal belongings, unable to resist the intoxicating pull of their cell phones. Jules trusted them. But she’d also trusted Olivia.
No. Absolutely not.
No way would she close off her already-small group of friends because of Olivia and Mason. Aaliyah and Yasmin wouldn’t stab her in the back. Every gossip hound and celebrity news reporter had to be blowing up their phones along with every number associated with Jules. But she trusted they would kick the requests to Sloane. Sloane had likely texted them on how to handle the onslaught of dirt seekers.
Jules pushed off the couch. She needed fresh air and strode to the beckoning balcony. The helicopters still hovered—she jerked back at the thought of telephoto lenses scouring the building. The hotel room was too cramped. The pressure too heavy. She needed… needed… She had no idea what she needed, and sidestepping along the wall toward Yasmin and Aaliyah, she asked, “What’s everyone saying?”
“Actually…” Aaliyah scrolled. “Not as much as I would have thought.”
