Page 21 of Get A Fix

“Come on,” he said, tugging gently to get me moving.

“It was really nice to meet you,” I said to Sienna.

“And you,” she said, speaking to me even as her eyes kept moving to Ashford. “I hope we’ll be able to have a meal together while you’re here.”

“Me too,” I replied, not looking at Damien, instead letting the actor I was there to protect guide me through the lobby to the elevator bay.

Several people called his name, and once we were on with two other couples and the doors closed, a woman turned to him.

“I loved you in Blood Tracks. I never missed an episode.”

“Thank you so much,” he said kindly.

Blood Tracks, a dark, violent, gritty, and sexually twisted police procedural, had been on HBO for six years and had been his start in Hollywood.

“I was going to marry Detective Mark Porter,” she told him.

He chuckled. “Shall we take a picture?”

“Oh yes, please,” she gushed, and everyone laughed.

He ended up snapping photos with all of them, and when they got off the elevator, they all turned and waved. It was actually really nice. They all genuinely appreciated that he took the time to interact with them.

Surprisingly, once we were moving again, he retook my hand. Funny that in an elevator, with no one else around to see, he still wanted to do that.

“Is this okay?” he asked me when the door opened.

“I took yours first, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“And I love holding hands. I just haven’t had anyone to do it with in ages.”

“Is that right?” He glanced at me as we began walking down the hall together.

“Yeah, the last guy I was with was not into public displays of affection.”

“No?”

I shook my head. “And I was too stupid to understand what that meant at the time.”

He nodded. “You missed that he was hiding the relationship.”

“I did,” I said, confessing my stupidity. “Having a boyfriend was not part of his plan.”

“When did you part ways?”

“More than a year ago.”

“That’s good,” he said with a grin. “But be honest—do you have any lingering feelings for him?”

“I do not,” I assured him.

“Thank God,” he muttered.

“Why thank God?” I asked as we reached the end of the long hallway and stopped in front of red damask double doors edged in white.

“Because I would like to know you much better, and if you’re hung up on someone else, I would make sure to keep things between us purely business.”