by Tina Saxon
He’s your bodyguard. Nothing else. Nothing more.
I jump and my eyes fly open when his hand covers mine. His touch throws me off balance, my fingers tingle under his hand. Why is he choosing now to touch me? I’m in the middle of hunting for self-control and he touches me?
The car stops and the door opens. My heart beats against my chest, not because of the crowds’ screams drifting into the car, but his gentle touch. We both stare at our connected hands for a beat before we’re instructed to get out.
“We’re here,” I whisper, removing my hand. I sigh when he doesn’t say anything. Not the time, Sydney.
Lights flash around us as we begin our trek down the red carpet. The smile plastered on my face is a true reflection on how I’m feeling on the inside. The excitement is hard to contain. My publicist, Aleena, flares out my dress and directs Max to stand next to me for the perfect shot. Then it’s rinse and repeat every two minutes during the photo op.
I bite my lip to suppress my laugh when Max has enough of her and snaps, “I got this.” She steps aside as he takes his position like he’s done the last ten pictures. My reaction amuses him. He smiles at me with a slight shake of the head. He leans down, his lips a breath away from my ear and whispers, “You think this is funny, huh?”
The heat of his voice sends prickles of goosebumps up my arm. When I draw back, our eyes lock. His eyes soften as they trail down to my lips causing my heart to turn over in response. Our bodies so close, his tux jacket brushing against my breast as I take in a heavy breath.
“It’s time to move,” Aleena says, pulling me out of my daze.
“But…” I spin around, mindlessly following because my head has yet to catch up to what I’m supposed to be doing. “Wait, we didn’t take pictures back there.”
Her smile widens as she glances at Max and back to me. Leaning in close, she answers, “They definitely got a lot of pictures.”
My eyebrows shoot up and I pin my glare on Max. The devilish smile plastered on his face makes it hard for me to maintain an even calm tone when I say, “You did that on purpose.” Seeming very pleased with himself, he motions for me to move forward, ignoring my accusation.
Max and his hurt ego go to the wayside with all the commotion on the carpet. After the pictures portion, Aleena directs me to the Radio Booths. She already has a list of the ones I’m stopping at. Max continues to stay by my side as we get closer to the booths, stepping back whenever a DJ interviews me. Even through all the commotion, the couple times he’s placed his hand on my lower back guiding me, the slight pressure feels heavy on my heart. I haven’t wanted him to remove it, but he does. Like he catches himself doing it and takes it away like I stung him.
In between reporters, I’m waving at screaming fans when my shoe snags on something sending me into Max’s arms. My whole body heats from embarrassment. Max lifts me to my feet without fuss, leaning down so his lips are a breath away from my ear. To the public, it might seem like we’re having a moment rather than me being clumsy.
“You all right?” he whispers.
I run my hand up his lapel, gathering my wits but when I put pressure on my left foot, something’s wrong. It lowers farther than my right. Oh no. No, no, no, this can’t be happening. I squeeze his lapel and let out a nervous whimper. Max pulls back and looks down at me, concerned.
“My heel broke,” I whine. “Max, what am I going to do? I can’t walk the red carpet with a broken heel.” I hold stock still, my hands grip his jacket out of desperation. Behind Max, fans scream my name, so I release a clenched fist and wave, managing a smile, but return my focus back on Max, hoping he has a fix. He can fix anything, right? He shrugs, shattering all my hopes. I drop my forehead against his shoulder.
Max’s large hand tilts my chin until we’re staring into each other’s eyes. “I’ve never known you to care what people think. Don’t start now.”
“But it’s—”
“What’s wrong?” Aleena says, stepping up to us.
“My shoe broke,” I grit out the words quietly as my irritation grows. “These stupid shoes cost more than my dress. How could they have broke?”
“I’ll have you new ones within fifteen minutes.” She hustles a few paces away from us, whipping out a phone.
“I can’t stand here for fifteen minutes.” My glare returns to Max and he hides a smile, pinching his lips together. “Oh. Now, who’s laughing at who?” I swat him on the arm. “You’re not helping.”
“What… Max,” I snap as I’m swooped up into his arms, and I have to throw my arm around his shoulder to sit higher. “What are you doing?” A few yells and whistles come from the crowd.
“Helping.”
Smart ass.
“This isn’t quite what I had in mind.” He shrugs with a smirk. “I just figured you had some superglue or duct tape with you.”
With a lift of a brow, he chuckles. “Sorry. The penguin suit doesn’t go with my tool belt.”
“Okay, shoes will be here momentarily,” Aleena states walking up to us, still typing out a text. When she lifts her head, her eyes widen as she notices me in Max’s arms. Her eyes dart around, not amused by Max’s helping.
“Where to?” Max asks, not seeming to care about her or the million cameras snapping pictures of us.
Kill me now.
I pull in a deep breath, searching deep for that girl that didn’t care what people thought of her. By the time I exhale, a resigned energy fills me and I let out an awkward laugh. Max exchanges a smile with me and I shake my head at the ridiculousness of right now. Addison and I will laugh our heads off in a week, but at the moment, it’s tragic.
“Um…” she hesitates, torn by what to do. Tapping her phone against her palm, she glances at the next booth and then back to us. She’s never dealt with Max. He’s not putting me down so she might as well just go with the flow.
“Aleena, let’s just move on. My shoes will probably be here by the time we’re done with the next interview.”
She nods with a vague hint of disapproval and spins on her toes, sauntering to the booth like she’s about to be executed. I don’t know what she’s worried about. I’m the one in the spotlight, being carried around.
To make things even worse, we’re doing TV interviews now, so the cameras catch Max setting me down. He tries to adjust my dress, but Aleena shoos him away. I place most of my weight on my right foot, trying to achieve looking graceful in front of the camera.
“Sky Owen, so glad you could talk to us,” Gwen Stark from Entertainment News says into her mic. She stands next to me, at least six inches taller than me, so I have to look up at her. “What an entrance though.” Her mouth twitches with amusement, glancing at Max.
“I mean, don’t you have your own personal escort to carry you around everywhere?” We both laugh, but I have an overwhelming need to tell her why. “He’s actually helping me since my heel broke.” I lift my dress, flashing my left foot and the broken heel hanging on by the backside stitching. The red silk fabric slips from my fingers, covering the shoe disaster.
“Oh, no. Well, I like your solution.” She wags her brows. “Let’s talk about you. You’ve been touring with Preston Scout and your first single hit the top twenty on the Billboards. And now, you’re performing tonight. You’re already being crowned the up-and-coming star of the year.”
My cheeks burn as I nod, listening to her run through my last few months. Every time someone reiterates my accomplishments, it makes me uncomfortable. I clasp my damp palms together to prevent fidgeting.
“It’s been a surreal ride so far. I’m humbled by the support I’ve received from everyone. I still can’t believe this is my life.” My gaze sweeps across the red carpet. Cheers grow louder and I glance to see who’s coming. An excited squeak from the back of my throat escapes my lips. “Seriously. There’s Taylor Swift.” I regain my senses and turn back with a slight shake of my head. Graham is going to kill me.
Gwen laughs at my fan-girl moment. “You’re
such a doll. You came out of the shadows, guns blazing. Let me tell you, I’m a huge fan. I can’t wait to watch your growth in the industry.”
“Thank you.”
“One last thing. I have to ask because you’re trending on Twitter and our viewers are very interested.” My brows pinch together. I’m trending? Please don’t ask me who the designer is for my shoes. My mind reels with responses other than outing the designer. Nobody would ever want to dress me for a future event. “Everyone wants to know… who’s your date?”
My smile freezes on my face, while my head switches gears. I glance over my shoulder at the gorgeous man standing behind me. He gives me a subtle wink, having no idea what was just asked or that he’s the center of the social media frenzy today.
When I turn back, I’m anchored with Gwen’s inquisitive gaze. “He’s a good friend.” As soon as the words pass my lips, I know I’m opening a floodgate. My chest tightens thinking about all the women that will search Max out since I said the friend word. She waits a beat for me to continue, but when I don’t, she lets it go.
“Well, there you have it,” she says into the camera. She turns back to me. “It’s been great talking to you, Sky. Thank you for stopping by.” The camera stops filming us and points down the carpet. Gwen leans into me before I can turn away and mumbles, “I wish I had a friend that looked at me like that. You better hold on to that one.”
“It’s complicated. But thank you for not expecting more.”
“Like I said, I’m a huge fan. I don’t want to be blacklisted already. When you get back to LA, let’s have lunch. Without cameras.”
I believe her genuine smile and that she just wants to be friends. “Yes, I’m always up for drinks with the girls.”
She claps once, excitedly. “It’s a date.”
Right after she gives me a quick hug, Aleena runs up, with shoes high in the air. “I have new shoes,” she beams.
Thank god.
Gwen allows me to change my shoes by stepping in front of me, talking to Aleena. I’ve never been so appreciative of putting two feet on the ground and walking around. Aleena stuffs my broken shoes in her bag.
“Ready for the next one?” she asks, her voice much more enthusiastic than before. I nod, saying one more quick goodbye and thank you to Gwen. Max takes his place at my side and everything is back to normal.
Until Max hears he’s breaking the internet.
Chapter Twenty-One
Max
“Is the show that boring?” I ask, returning to my seat from using the restroom. Her eyes zone in on her phone as she scrolls. She jumps when she realizes I’m back, sitting up straight and pressing the off button on the phone, dropping her hand in her lap.
When Sydney gets nervous, she releases an awkward laugh. “I was just reading an article.”
“What about?”
“I’ll tell you later. The show’s about to come off commercial break.”
I let it go for now. I’m not a wait and see type of guy, but if it was important, Stone would have contacted me already. The show is almost over, anyway.
Tonight has been torture.
Keeping my hands to myself has been harder than I expected. The red dress that fits like a glove to her small framed body, accentuating her large breasts and dipping in the back to right above her ass, has given me heart palpitations all fucking night long. Sydney is my weak spot, and it pisses me off that I can’t calm my emotions when I’m with her.
Walking beside her the whole night, I felt more like an ogling teenager than a bodyguard. The number of times I smiled like a goon is ridiculous. But every time Sydney found my gaze, I couldn’t help it. And watching her light up on stage, I’m damn proud of her. She’s come a long way from the broken woman I found on the floor over a year and a half ago.
But now, as we get closer to the end of the night, my mind won’t stop stripping off the red dress, leaving her naked body standing in front of me. Ready and willing. I swallow back the fantasy, wiping my hands down my black pants. Focusing on the two people on stage presenting awards, I concentrate on every word they say. I’m relieved when I notice it’s the last award of the night - Artist of the Year. As soon as they announce the winner, everyone stands and claps. I follow suit, sticking a hand in my pocket and adjusting my semi-hard cock.
“Ready to go?” I ask, placing my hand on her lower back. Fuck. I pull it back, shoving my hands in my pockets again.
She turns, her eyes jumping from my pockets to my eyes. She nods, her purse gripped in her hands. Another thing I’m doing, reading into everything. Her body language tells me she wants me to keep my hand there. But her body language also told me she wanted me in that hotel room and she still walked out. I can’t do that again.
“I have to change before going to the after-party though.”
Shit. I forgot about the after-party. She bites the inside of her lip, worry etched on her face. “Everything okay?”
I nod. “Yes. I just… never mind. We’ll go back to the hotel and change.” She lets out a relieved breath. Me, not so much. At least she won’t be wearing the red dress.
Jesus Christ! Why can’t she wear something in another color, like puke green?
She smiles from the doorway of her room. I went to my room and changed, figuring I’d have plenty of time to get back here and wait for her. I was right. I’ve been out here for fifteen minutes. Her tight red dress has nothing on the tiny, short red skirt and the sexy white sleeveless top that has a deep v-cut and shows off her gorgeous boobs better than the other number.
Fucking torture. I’m tempted to call Stone to escort her. I’ll tell her I don’t feel good. It’d be an easy lie since the pain from my ball sac is so intense I might pass out. Eyeing her up and down, I shake the idea from my head. Stone’s a man and I don’t need to be wondering if he’s hard as hell all night long, staring at her. I’ll just buck up and endure the pain.
“Ready?” My voice breaks and I clear my throat. She pops up an eyebrow.
“Yes,” she says, slowly. “Are you feeling okay, Max? You’re a little pale.”
“I’m fine.” She stands taller, my tone coming out harsh. I squeeze the bridge of my nose and lie. “I just got an update that Rex is still missing.”
She lays her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. I would understand if you needed to go search for him.” Her sing-song voice is pure silk. Yet, I like the rawness underneath more.
“No. Cory is still working on it. For now, I’m not leaving your side. You never know when another shoe blow out will happen.”
She laughs. “Oh god, I hope not anytime soon. Can you believe of all the times for that to happen, it happened then?”
“You handled it well, Tink.”
She wraps her arm through mine - I think she’s trying to kill me - and we make our way back to the limo.
Sydney’s been quiet for a while, which is not like her. I clear my throat and she looks up from her phone and a moment of panic flashes in her eyes. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m so sorry, Max.”
I sit taller in my seat, folding my arms across my chest, waiting for her to explain.
“Has Stone called you? Or anyone else?”
I stare at her in confusion. Stone and I spoke between changes, but nothing was reported. I set my phone up to receive calls only from certain people when I’m working and I took out the earpiece. She hesitates, chewing the inside of her cheek and she passes me her phone. Glancing down at the bright screen, a picture of me flashes. I scroll through the Twitter feed, reading comment after comment until I’ve seen enough.
Fuck me.
My head drops and I’m shaking it when Sydney says, “At least they gave you a good hashtag.”
“You think hashtag AMAs most wanted is good?”
Her head does a quick bobble. “It could be worse.”
I hand her phone back, thankful I don’t have social media accounts. I make a mental note to do something cruel to Stone for not warni
ng me. One of the world’s best hackers can’t claim he didn’t know. He fucking knew. I wouldn’t have put it past him to give me the name.
“Do you hate me?” Sydney’s voice cracks.
“Why would I hate you? I knew I’d be in the public eye escorting you.” The tension in her shoulders release and a relieved expression washes over her face. “Tink, it’s okay. It’s not like I wasn’t already known.”
She’s barely able to keep the laughter out of her voice when she says, “Oh, I forgot who I was with—the infamous Max Shaw. Although, the basic person doesn’t know who you are.” She shakes her hand, holding the phone in the air. “Well, at least not yet.”
I open my mouth to ask her if she really knows me. But snap it shut. Why should I care? The limo stops at a light and a car full of teenagers hang out the window, yelling and trying to figure out who we are. Sydney gets excited and scoots to the window.
“Don’t—”
She rolls down the window
“Open the window,” I say in defeat, too late.
I scoot next to her as she reaches out the window, shaking hands with the excited kids. A blonde spies me and points. “Is that AMA’s most wanted? You’re so hot, what’s your name?”
Thank fucking god the light turns green. I pull Sydney in and roll up the window as the limo rolls forward. She lands on my lap, laughing so hard, she’s blotting tears from her eyes. I drop her next to me and glare at her.
“What?” she says, fanning her face. “It’s funny. Never thought you’d be on a most-wanted list, huh?”
As much as I hate the direction this instant fame is going, her laugh reminds me of the old Sydney who was carefree and loved life. Her barriers are crumbling, but she’s still holding steady a few parts of it. I’m sure having a stalker isn’t helping.
The vibe is different walking into the after-party. There are still a million people taking pictures outside the venue, but they’re now yelling questions at me as well. They’re like turkey vultures and I’m the roadkill dinner tonight.
