"You need to fire the security guard," Bellamy stated, "that allowed this crazy broad up here." He flew to his feet and brushed off his white pants that were smudged with dirt from the gravel rooftop. He flipped his curly hair away from his bright and beautiful blue eyes. God, he was handsome. A lean five-foot-ten, he appeared taller than he truly was, or maybe it was because she was still sprawled at his feet.
Leon cleared his throat. "Bellamy, I want you to meet your personal assistant."
It took Bellamy a moment to realize what Leon meant, and then he shook his head. "No. Absolutely, no." He narrowed his eyes on her, and she scrambled to her feet as graceful as she could, considering how she ended up there.
"I'm Evie Reid." She extended her hand.
He stared at her outstretched palm for a second then leveled his gaze on Leon. "I don't need a personal assistant, and especially one who thinks attacking a person is a great tactic to get to know each other." He turned on his heels, and murmured something in Romanian, which she knew he spoke since his parents were both from there. She loosely translated it as Crazy chicks are not my thing.
"Well yeah," she shouted back. Then decided to play his game and spoke in Romanian too. "Good thing I'm not crazy then." Loosely translated of course, but that seemed to catch his attention for about a second. He turned around and met her gaze in what she believed was supposed to intimidate her, but she refused to look away. "Giving me the evil eye doesn't work." She stared back and he dropped his gaze first.
He harrumphed and grumbled something that she was sure hadn't been flattering, and continued on his way to the door that would lead him back inside the hotel.
"Well, that went splendidly," she muttered. "Why was he up here anyway?"
"Sorry, should have warned you. It's his thing. When we're about to begin a tour, he heads for the roof of the first hotel we stay at, to meditate and put him in the right mindset, or so he says." His shoulders lifted in a shrug. "For good luck, I guess," he added.
"And I just messed that up."
"Don't worry, I have hope he'll warm up to you. You did speak Romanian to him, right? Usually, he's thrilled when someone knows the language."
Maybe, she thought, but not if he believed she was crazy.
Chapter Three
Building Bridges
The band's manager reserved the top floor of the Princess May Hotel for the band members, the personal managers, and for Evie. Her room sat between her brother's suite and Bellamy's. She'd wondered if that was on purpose. If Bellamy didn't behave himself, her brother would be right next door. Bellamy, after all, hadn't earned his bad boy reputation by sleeping alone. Though it was probably over-exaggerated, the tabloids claimed he had a different woman in his arms every night of the week. The man had to sleep sometime, didn't he?
She could have relieved everyone's mind. She wasn't Bellamy's type. He went for leggy model types that draped on his arm like an expensive accessory. At five-four and curvy, she didn't even come close.
Upon entering her room there was a kitchenette to the right and sectioned off from the living quarters by a breakfast nook. She spotted a full-size refrigerator too. The bedroom was spacious even with the king size bed in the center of it. The striped blue and gold bedspread appeared fresh and there were piles of pillows arranged against the dark pine headboard. The dresser and nightstands were a matching set. However, what really impressed her was the bathroom with a walk-in shower to the left and an honest-to-goodness hot tub to the right. She stared at it from the archway and hoped she'd have time to indulge before they had to pack up and head out.
The quick rap on her door had her turning away with a sigh. She walked over to answer it, expecting the person on the other side to be her brother, but Bellamy Lovel filled the doorframe. He still wore his button-down shirt with the wild print, and with plenty of chest showing, but he changed into black jeans. He wore sunglasses, which seemed a bit strange to be wearing since they were indoors.
"May I come in?" he asked but didn't really wait for her answer as he strode in anyway.
He glanced around her room as if he were searching for something, or maybe he wanted to know if her room had something different than his did.
"How did you learn Romanian?" he asked casually.
"I was bored one summer and took a course." Which was the truth. Call her strange, but she liked learning new things.
He turned to glance at her and she wished he'd take off the sunglasses so she could see his eyes. Would make it a whole lot easier to read him. "You were bored," he stated dryly, "and took a course to learn Romanian? Who does that? Don't you know how to have fun?" He turned away, obviously not really interested in an answer.
"I know how to have fun," she defended herself.
His response almost sounded like a snort.
She noticed her suitcase was open and her underclothes were displayed since she'd packed them last. She hurried over to the bed to close it, but Bellamy had already happened upon it. His fingers lifted a lacy bra for inspection and his gaze riveted to her with a once over, making her cross her arms over her chest. He lowered his glasses and peered at her over the rim. "You must have some nice tits under that oversized blouse you're wearing."
Her eyes narrowed and she uncrossed her arms and strode over to him. Snatching the bra from his hand, she stuffed it back into her suitcase and closed the lid. She took a deep breath and faced him. "Is there something I may help you with?"
He had his sunglasses in place again, but his lips curved, wickedly. How could his smile make her legs feel like they wanted to give out? "Honey, I don't believe you're my type."
It took her a moment to realize what he meant by his statement, but before she could shoot him a snide remark, he'd already moved on to inspect the stack of books on the dresser.
Her face heated. Looking over her reading material was far worse than him fondling her undergarments. He placed his sunglasses on the top of his head. "You have quite the selection here," he said and turned to look at her. This time, his gaze had changed. Not hostile, but curious. "You're a Buddhist?" he asked and picked up the book, Yoga: Meditation for the Mind, Body, and Soul.
"No," she said. "When I'm stressed, I like to meditate and some of the yoga poses help me to relax."
"Hmm… Maybe you are my type after all. I'd like to see you do some of those yoga poses. Naked, preferably." The lustful gleam in his eyes made her blush, but she refused to fall victim to this game he was obviously playing. Then she realized his motive. He was purposely trying to make her feel uncomfortable.
"It won't work," she said and he arched a brow at her.
"What won't?"
"What you're doing here. I'm not leaving. I was hired to do a job and I'm going to do it."
He placed the book down and those ever-expressive eyes burned with what she supposed was anger. "I don't need a babysitter, despite what Leon told you."
Ah, so now we have it. His pride had been sorely nicked. "Good, because I don't want to be one. Listen, maybe we can work together here. I need this job." He didn't have to know it was because she needed to stay close to him and hopefully say something or do something that would influence him to want to live. "I have bills to pay," she added. "You have a grueling schedule where you need to be on time. Allow me to assist you in doing that and we'll all go home happy at the end of the day."
He drummed his hand on the top book, which happened to be book one in the Harry Potter series. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, the UK edition given to her by her brother. When he was in London two weeks ago on a job, he'd picked it up for her. Who knew how widely popular the series would eventually become. In 2007, she was anxiously waiting for the final book in the series to be released.
"Deal," Bellamy finally voiced. "I wouldn't want you to starve on my account." He headed for the door but turned back with his hand on the doorknob. "You certainly are a surprise, Miss Book Marm."
Miss Book Marm? Not exactly a compliment, but truly did s
he expect him to see her as a sexy attractive woman? Even though she knew it, he confirmed she wasn't his type. "Well, so are you," she threw back and he chuckled, and this time his smile was warm and genuine.
"I'll make sure Leon gives you the itinerary."
She didn't take a full breath until he had closed the door behind him. She plopped down on the bed. She was in. Bellamy had accepted her presence and she would have her shot at changing his future.
Chapter Four
By My Side
Evie received her itinerary, as promised, the next morning. She was responsible for making sure Bellamy arrived on time to appointments such as wardrobe fittings, having his hair done, and ushering him into the limo so the band could make the drive over to the various soundstages like radio spots, and special appearances on talk shows. All the promotion was needed to promote their new release and the tour that would begin in three weeks. She couldn't believe how much was involved, even with choosing the team to promote the band – personal managers, business managers, producers, agents, and attorneys. Most of the time it felt like she was in a circus, and she'd been given the gig of the juggler, but if she dropped the ball she would be booed off the stage with no chance of redeeming herself.
For the next three days, Bellamy dragged his feet with a million excuses as to why he was making everyone wait for him. He wanted a smoke before he headed out. He wanted to enjoy the drink he'd just poured. He was still brushing his teeth. She kept quiet and endured, only because she knew he was trying to push her buttons and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
The personal manager for the band was Sonya Maynard, a pretty brunette, who talked so fast it made Evie's head spin. Bryce told her she was the chief executive officer. The one who was in charge of setting up the Fall Fest Tour and all the pre-tour interviews the band was going to do, before they hit the road at the beginning of September. She set up all the transportation for the people and the equipment to the various locations. She booked all the hotels, hired the crew, and dealt with the promoters.
The itinerary mapped out where the band would be from now until the end of the tour. Each city and state, in the order the band should be there. It was a tight schedule. Not leaving much room for error. This morning it was announced the venues scheduled in California, Florida, and New York were sold out.
For the most part, Bellamy wasn't exactly rude to her and he did thank her each night for 'busting his ass' as he liked to tell her, but how was she supposed to change his destiny if he wouldn't have a normal conversation with her? He joked with the crew with ease and even with Bryce, but with her, he kept his distance.
Today wardrobe had him wearing skinny jeans, low on his hips, and a black T-shirt. His curly hair had been styled to the side, his dark ringlets smooth and shiny. She really needed to find out how they did that. Maybe some miracle concoction could be applied to her hair.
They were shooting a video today and they had a warehouse rented out for the project. They were hoping to complete it in one day, two days tops.
"Excuse me." A young man, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, was carrying two beer bottles in one hand while balancing a tray in the other. "Where can I find Mr. Lovel?"
She opened her mouth to direct him but closed it again. This would give her another opportunity to engage Bellamy in a conversation. He wouldn't be able to walk away either since his cute behind was seated in the makeup artist's chair. Briana Jones, had light brown hair highlighted with blonde streaks. Her brown eyes were large and her makeup flawless. She was applying the final touches on Bellamy before they started filming the video. Evie looked back to the man weighed down with orders. "Which drink is his?"
"The beers," he told her.
Of course, they were both his. She smiled and held out her hand. "I needed to talk to him anyway. Why don't I deliver the drinks for you?"
The young man was more than happy to hand over the beers to her. She strode over to where Bellamy sat in a chair, resembling a barber's chair. He was shamelessly flirting with the woman who was doing more talking than dabbing makeup.
"Your order is up," she announced. He seemed surprised to see her, and why wouldn't he be when he'd ignored her all day, every day.
He reached for both bottles and placed one of them on the counter where different colors of makeup in glass jars and in compacts were lined in a row, along with sponges, and other things needed to make Bellamy shine. Not that he needed much prep. He looked pretty snazzy already. Now if they could do something with his attitude, all would be good.
His gaze slid over her, a very male appraisal before he finally met her eyes. "Thank you." He twisted the cap and indulged as if he were parched. With the first bottle finished, he placed it down and reached for the second one.
She hugged her folder that held papers and a pen, just in case she needed to jot something down. Her shoulder purse was small and just held her credit cards, license and such. She wore comfortable shoes, dark slacks with a button-down blouse and a sweater. The weather outside was in the high 80s today, typical California weather for this time of the year, but in the warehouse, it was downright chilly.
When she didn't move to leave, Bellamy lifted an eyebrow in question. "Is there something you needed?"
"Nope," she said. "Just wanted to be nearby if you wanted anything else."
"I think I'm fine." He took off the bib Briana had used to make sure none of the foundation landed on his shirt. He stood and started toward where the other band members were waiting near the stage. He must have felt her on his heels and stopped short. She plowed right into him.
"Sorry," she said, and took a step back and pushed her glasses onto the bridge of her nose.
He pursed his lips. "Listen, this is going to be a long day. Didn't you bring one of your books or something with you?"
"No, of course not. I'm working."
"Hmm… perhaps you can work… I don't know… over there?" He pointed to where some of the other crewmembers were gathered.
She didn't want to stand over there. She needed to stay close to him whether he liked it or not. Maybe she needed to change her tactics. "I've never seen how a video is made. I was hoping to watch. Do you mind if I just stand closer to the cameras and take a gander?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "Fine, but try to stay out of the way of the cameramen. Sonya will have my head if anything gets screwed up today."
"I'll stay clear." He turned to go. "Mr. Lovel?" she called to him.
He glanced back at her with annoyance. "Shit. Don't call me Mr. Lovel. I really hate that. Bellamy, please."
"Sure thing. But do you want me to hold your beer? It's not needed for the next shot, is it?"
He glanced at the bottle as if he'd forgotten he'd been holding it. He lifted it to his lips and downed the rest of the cool liquid. "Here, if you don't mind." Bellamy handed her the bottle. He turned and didn't give her a backward glance as he made his way to his band mates.
She hadn't exactly been lying when she claimed to be curious about the behind-the-scenes making of a video. Her brother was one of the cameramen and she went to stand beside him.
"How's it going?" Bryce asked.
"I guess okay." Her shoulders lifted in a shrug.
Bryce must have heard something in her voice that gave him pause, and he glanced her way. "Is Bellamy being difficult?"
"Nothing I can't handle so far."
"Don't let your guard down," Bryce said. "He starts out on schedule, pumped up to do the tour, but then ends up going back to his usual bad habits."
She assumed he meant alcohol, drugs, and women, but she kept that to herself.
The band took the stage, which was made to rotate as they sang. The lights were bright and hot, but probably more so for the band, since they were shining directly on them. She shimmied out of her sweater and tied it around her waist.
Bellamy's voice was as smooth and sultry as usual. His presence on stage proved not to be any less impressive than if he had a crowd of
fans in front of him, cheering him on. On the second take, Bellamy had found his groove. Dancing and singing without tiring at all. However, when the stage turned, this time, it jerked and Bellamy missed his step and fell off of it.
"Omigod." Her heart stopped and restarted in alarm. She hurried forward even though she was sure the band had a nurse on hand to administer first aid, but she was closer.
She maneuvered her way around to where some of the crew had gathered, blocking her view from what was happening. When she finally broke through, she spotted Leon helping Bellamy to his feet.
"Dammit, my wrist," Bellamy cursed when he tried to use it to stand up.
"Let me take a look at it." She didn't wait for an okay but knelt down beside him.
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