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Pleased with herself for being brave, she straightened from her task, but Ivan caught her wrist before she could move it a safe distance away from his cock. He pressed the back of her hand lightly to his zipper, against the hard-on hidden by the swallowtails of the shirt.
“Thank you,” he said softly, the devil himself in that smile of his. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
She pulled her arm from his grip. “I’m doing my—”
“Job?”
“Exactly.”
“Not feeling sorry for me?”
“I won’t let you use your past, sad as it may be, to manipulate me.”
“My past?” His smile spread into a wide grin. “I was referring to this.” He waved a hand over his crotch.
Heat flooded her cheeks.
“I won’t feel sorry for you, either,” he continued. “I know you won’t want my pity.”
She glanced over her shoulder to where Andrew and Patrick were comparing notes. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mother.”
Turning away abruptly, she addressed Andrew. “Let’s do this.”
“I didn’t mean—” Ivan started.
“It’s all right,” she said, glancing at him from over her shoulder. “We have a busy day ahead. I suggest you get your butt over there on that chair and smile for the camera.”
The look he shot her was panty melting. Even as he obediently made his way to Andrew, his expression was defiant, promising retribution of the sinful kind. Unlucky for him, she was immune to celebrity charm. This wasn’t her first day on the job.
While Ivan was busy with the shoot, she made a few phone calls in the corner and caught up with her messages. Henry came down to the studio to say goodbye as Andrew rounded up the session.
He draped his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll walk you out.”
“That’s not necessary. I know my way around, and you’re busy.”
“It’s always good to see you, Alice.” Henry’s expression was warm. “I’m only prolonging the pleasure.”
She smiled up at him. “You’re always the gentleman.”
“I was thinking, there’s a fundraising dinner at the Tate, tonight. Would you like to join me?”
“You’re very kind, but I have to catch up with work.”
He pinched her cheek. “Another time, then.”
Alice became aware of Ivan’s stare. He’d changed back into his T-shirt and was heading over to them.
“Ready?” he asked Alice, taking her arm and leading her to the door where Ben and Donald waited.
In the elevator, Ivan turned to her. “He’s old enough to be your father.”
“What?”
He rested a hand on the rail on either side of her body. “He wants to fuck you.”
Alice glanced at Ben and Donald, heat warming her cheeks. “What he wants to do is none of your business.”
“What can he possibly offer you?”
“Security.”
“Is that what you want, Alice?”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting stability.”
“Henry is it? If he’s so secure, why is he single at his age?”
“He’s divorced,” she said, ignoring the unsettling proximity of Ivan’s body.
“He’s too old for you.”
“Exactly. As I said, secure.”
His gaze moved to her lips. “Way too unexciting.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
The elevator pinged, and the doors opened, but Ivan didn’t budge. Alice waited patiently. If he thought he was intimidating her, he was failing miserably. She wasn’t going to ask to be let out of the elevator.
“Are you going to slap me?” he asked.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m going to kiss you.”
She sighed and looked over his shoulder at the people waiting to get in. “Stop fooling around. You’re holding up everyone.”
Donald, who was holding the door, cleared his throat, but Ivan ignored him.
The teasing light was back in his eyes. “If I ask, will you say yes?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not my type.”
“I used to be.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Is Henry?”
“He could be.”
He held her eyes for a moment longer in silent disagreement before he straightened, allowing her to step into the lobby.
“You have a choreography session in thirty minutes,” she said without looking back at him. “I’ll drop you at the theater.”
The lobby was more packed than usual. Newspaper employees had gathered to sneak looks at the superstar as he made his way to the exit. Ivan acted oblivious to the attention, but outside, a mob of screaming girls descended on them.
“Fuck.” Ivan grabbed Ben’s arm and said over the havoc, “Get the car. Alice, give him the keys.”
Ben hadn’t been registered as a driver on the company records. If anything happened, insurance wouldn’t cover it. She was going to argue, but the crowd advanced on them, making it difficult to move. Wordlessly, she dug the keys from her bag and handed them over. Arms reached for Ivan, hands groping. Every female was trying to touch him.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him cupping his ear. It was hard to remain calm when the horde was pushing them back against the glass doors. Retreating inside was the logical solution, but the automatic opening mechanism didn’t activate. Security had to have locked the doors because of the crowd, trapping them outside. She’d driven countless performers around the city and never experienced anything like this. Then again, her usual clients were ballet dancers and opera singers, not hot, young rock stars.
