by Arell Rivers
Unfocused eyes search the floor of the limo. Her arm reaches for my pants as I curl my fingers inside her.
“Oh.” My jeans slide from her fingers.
A pained chuckle escapes. “Try again, Angel.”
She grabs the material and pulls out a couple foil packets.
I swirl my finger around her clit, then pull my fingers out of her and place them in my mouth. “You taste so good.”
She rocks her hips on me, fumbling to open the condom. When she tosses the empty wrapper over her shoulder, I know she’s lost total control. I’ve never seen anything more erotic.
“Open your mouth.” She does. I offer her a taste of herself. Sucking on my fingers, she mumbles, “Mmm.”
Both of us panting, I order her to put the condom on me, which she does. I grab her by the hips, line us up and let her sink onto me. Stars explode behind my eyes.
“Yes, Angel. Yes.”
She starts to move up and down, my hands guiding her by the hips. I seek her lips again, so we are joined on so many levels. Her movements become faster and faster as our breaths become more erratic. I swipe her hair off her face, tangling our tongues until we cannot breathe.
Within seconds, her pussy clenches around my cock, her low moans turned into frantic screams of “Wills.” Her orgasm pushes me into my own climax. My balls tighten to an almost painful point, then release into her body.
“Emssssss,” I groan, yanking her body to mine. Holding her so tight it’s as if we are one. When our pants level out to mere gasps for air, I lift her off my lap and place her, gently, next to me. I help her put her jeans back on, stealing her panties for myself. When she’s redressed, I slip back into my own clothes.
“Wow.” She turns and wiggles onto my lap again. “That was amazing.”
I kiss her forehead. “You’re amazing, Angel.” We remain locked in our embrace for the remainder of the trip back to her house.
Once inside, we shower and I take her against the tile wall, wanting to cement us on her brain before we head out to the party. Wash away all thoughts of her former boyfriend on set today. And before.
Leaving her in her massive closet, I grab a pair of black trousers and a white button-down shirt, a slight twist on my standard attire for parties like these. While I wait for her to get changed and primped, I wander out to her pool.
Sitting down on a chaise, I pull out my phone and call David. “How’s everything going at Complete? How are you doing?”
David clears his throat. “I’m doing okay, honestly. Everyone here is so supportive and helping me clear my things out. They’re looking forward to you taking over.”
“I am too. It’s going to be a big change, for both of us.”
“So true, brother, so true. I spoke with my movers a little bit ago. I would be lying if I told you I’m not a little excited for the changes. This house hasn’t felt like home for a long time now.”
“I get that.” I track some birds flying overhead. Oh, their freedom.
“Are you feeling ready to take over? It must be nice to get to set the pace for once, instead of letting others dictate it?”
My stomach flips. I hadn’t considered this before. Am I? Am I ready to take control over my life instead of following others through theirs? I keep advising Ems to do this. “You know, I think I am.”
He chuckles. “Well, that’s good. You might as well be prepared to move into the gym because it has a way of taking over your life. I’ve spent one too many nights sleeping on the couch in my office, and not just to avoid an empty bed. It’s a lot of work, bro, but it’s all good.” Our conversation veers to less charged topics like databases and marketing plans before I click off.
Only eight days until I take over the reins at Complete. Then Ems will have a new bodyguard. My stomach tightens at the thought.
I check the notes on my phone for bodyguard referrals my former boss, Nolan Kates, sent. He pre-screened all three of the guys, so I feel confident in their abilities. As I’ve met the last guy on the list, I shoot him a text. If he’s interested, I’ll tell Price that he’ll be my replacement. He’s married with two kids.
My stomach plummets at the thought of Ems traveling without me. Who am I kidding? I’m more worried than anything that she’ll realize I’m not the hero of her dreams—and I never have been. Mocking words said by FPU and Rinaldo ring true.
Maybe this time will be different.
All my thoughts scatter when Ems appears at the French doors. Her hair’s up in some sort of funky twist that looks fucking hot. And that dress. The caveman in me wants to rip it off her and not let the world see what I see.
“I am ready,” she says, walking toward me.
My legs urge me to stand up, yet my heart keeps me rooted to the chair. Ems stops in front of me and stoops down, her dress riding up on her thighs as she balances on her high heels. I swallow.
“You look beautiful, like always.”
How does Lizzie’s fiancé deal with dating a supermodel? Fuck, so many guys jacked off to his soon-to-be-wife’s poster. Same for Emilie’s posters, I’m sure. What did he tell me? Be confident in love.
Yeah, like confidence is my strong suit—my demons having wrestled that to the ground years ago. Never mind love.
Her hands land on my knees for support. “Let us go now. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get back here. And you can show me again and again how beautiful you think I am.” She giggles. “That is, if you have any showing left in the tank after your last performances.”
Then she says shit like that. My eyebrow raises. “Believe me, I’ll have a full tank by then.”
I lace her fingers with mine and together we walk through the house. My eyes scan the horizon. “I’m going to have to drive since it’s already starting to get dark.” The long summer days won’t extend long enough for her to have daylight for the entire trip.
“That is okay. I have a surprise planned for you for tomorrow, and I will drive us.”
“A surprise, huh?”
Her lips form a secretive smile, and her head bobs up and down. “Tomorrow.”
No one has surprised me in a very long time. I help her into my Jeep and plug in the location where we’re meeting up with Rinaldo, my mind still distracted by whatever she has planned. “You didn’t have to get me anything you know.”
“I know.” She turns her head to look out the side window. The small smile plays around her lips tell me she’s excited.
We arrive at the rendezvous point sooner than I wanted. Now I have to turn her over to Rinaldo, who’s standing outside a red Mercedes convertible. He just broke the scale from douche to uber douche.
I pull up next to him and look at Ems. She launches herself at me, kissing me like we’re never going to see each other again. Because I want this, I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight, my tongue exploring her mouth as if it was our first time.
Get a grip, man. Stop being a pussy, as Zak would say.
My hands slide from her waist to her shoulders, and I pry my lips from hers. Leaving my forehead against hers, I say, “Go on. I’ll be right behind you the whole way. I’ll find you inside and keep you safe.”
“Promise?” Her index finger lands on my chest, right above my heart.
“Always, Angel.”
“Wait here, I’ll get your door.”
“Such a gentleman.” She runs her hand over her lips. “Until I’m under you.”
I chuckle. “You got that right.” I hit the unlock button and hop out, walking around the front to get Emilie’s door. I refuse to look at her “date” for the evening.
When she stands next to me, her hand finds mine and together we turn. Tonight is about Emilie’s success as an actress, even if it meant she had to kiss her soccer player ex on set. She was acting, I remind myself and steal another kiss. A real one. One that she doesn’t have to turn her cheek to accept.
Time to face the music for tonight, named “Rinaldo in D Minor.” A smirk crosses my lips. I guess Cole rubbed off
on me after all.
Uber douche pushes away from his convertible, eyes squarely on Emilie. “Emmie. You look fantastic. The papps are going to eat you up.”
Her hand clamps down on mine for a split second, her face a beautiful mask. In response, I squeeze her hand and whisper, “I’ll be with you the whole time.”
“Bon noite, Rinaldo.” She inhales a deep breath and walks toward him.
He reaches out to do the European double-cheek kiss greeting, which she reciprocates. It means nothing, Wills. They’re just being polite, European-style.
“Nice car. Wills is teaching me how to drive.”
The fact that she can bring me into the conversation so effortlessly fills me with pride. See, soccer boy. She’s with me now.
“Hey,” I say, extending my hand. Might as well act civilized.
“Hola,” he responds, shaking my hand with a death grip.
Uber douche. I break the contact. “Emilie is a natural driver.”
“I bet she is. Like she’s a natural actor. But I suppose when it comes to certain emotions and how we express them, acting isn’t necessary.” He turns to her, arm outstretched. “Here, let me help you into my car.”
While he’s being overly solicitous, I check out his wheels—which cost more than I made last year. Gross.
Rinaldo reappears in front of me. He points to the twenty-foot two-seater. “Picked this up for a steal. Can’t believe how cheap things are over here.” He punches me in the arm. “You got it good.”
Having nothing to say, I raise my chin.
“So, don’t be worried about this party, dude. I got Emmie all covered. The papps will get their photos of us on the way in, to get their tongues wagging. But don’t worry, I won’t give them a show like the one you just gave me.”
My chest rises on my inhale as I try to keep my temper in check. “Get her in the door. I’ll take over from there.”
He waves his hand as if my words were of no consequence. “Of course, we’ll make it look real for the cameras. After all, we need to keep everyone happy.” He punches me again. “Ain’t that right, William. Wills.”
Enough of his shit. “Drive carefully.”
“Yeah. Always do.” He jumps over the driver’s side door, his ass landing squarely in the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life.
Ems dons a scarf to protect her hair from the wind the convertible’s going to generate. She blows me a kiss and they take off like a bat out of hell.
And just like that, I’m left alone to trail behind. As usual.
24
Wills
I hustle over to the Jeep and put it in drive, Rinaldo’s car already a speck on the horizon. While I close the gap, my mind replays everything he just said. With his salary plus endorsements, Rinaldo’s net worth must be in the tens of millions, if not more. Which makes his purchase of a Mercedes-Maybach S650 equivalent to my buying a cup of coffee at Starbucks. Life has taught me the measure of a man isn’t by his bank account. But it still grates.
My teeth maul my inner cheek for the rest of the drive.
When I reach the house where the party is being held, Rinaldo has already given his keys to the valet. “House” is an understatement. It’s one of those places that looks like a resort. An oversized fountain sits at the top of the long, circular drive. Geez. Probably only two people live here, maybe one weekend a quarter.
Two other cars managed to get ahead of me, so I can do nothing but wait my turn and watch the couple making their way to the front door. Ems stands next to Rinaldo, her hand enveloped in his. Even after all the self-talk I did on the way over here, my blood rises to a low simmer.
They wave at the large assembly of paparazzi lining the entrance. Emilie’s head turns to the side and the couple stands next to each other. Rinaldo’s arm snakes around her shoulders. My blood heats another notch.
Although my windows are closed and the air is blasting, I can see their lips moving as they answer whatever inane questions I can only imagine. Finally, the valet moves another car so only one more is ahead of me.
From this distance, Ems and Rinaldo seem animated. They touch each other like they’ve been doing it for years. Well, haven’t they? Her hand lands on his chest, like it knows just where to fall. He plays with a lock of her silky hair. My inner temperature raises to a boil.
The couple ahead of me manages to get out of their car. Good. Maybe they’ll divert attention away from my girlfriend. I recognize them as crew members. While they’re important to the functioning of the movie, they won’t exactly garner too much press attention. My fingers bang on the steering wheel, desperate to get out of the vehicle.
Ems and Rinaldo take a few more steps. He nods at something being said, then he turns and captures Ems in a full-on embrace. Without warning, his lips descend on hers. A raging boil overtakes my body.
A horn honks.
My eyes leave the happy couple to land on my palm, which is smack in the center of the steering wheel. Removing my hand from the horn, I open my door, not even waiting for the valet to motion me forward. I toss him my keys and go to where I last saw Rinaldo and Ems. But they’ve already disappeared inside.
My legs eat up the ground from my Jeep to the front door, nary a papp glancing at me. Once inside, I give my eyes a second to adjust to the lighting and do a sweep of my surroundings. The marble two-story foyer entrance is lined with servers holding trays of different glasses. Flutes, pilsners, martinis. Pick your poison.
I choose a vodka martini and knock it back. Even though I’m supposed to be “on duty,” I need to take the edge off or I’m likely to do something stupid.
Walking into a huge room filled with people, I catch snippets of conversations as I circulate, trying to locate Ems.
“Great job.”
“She was so surprising.”
“Positive press.”
Whatever. I’m not here for the social atmosphere. I assess each person as non-threatening and move on. Finally. My eyes land on Emilie, who is surrounded by a group of people, mainly men. The director’s there too. So is Rinaldo.
I deposit my glass on a table and make my way toward her. No threats. Except for Rinaldo’s arm thrown over her shoulder.
When I get as close to her as I can—I’m her bodyguard after all—I circle around the group. All clear. Not that I expected any danger. I pull up to a wall behind Rinaldo. His hand is in constant motion. Playing with her hair. Caressing her shoulder. Dropping downward to her waist.
She steps away from him slightly. A covert move, but I noticed. Ignoring her reaction, his legs shift like he’s dribbling a soccer ball and rests when they’re hip to hip.
I can’t break his leg. It’s probably insured for ten million.
Emilie steps forward to attract the attention of a passing server and hands him her empty champagne flute. Rinaldo gives the server his glass, then takes both of her hands in his. With a flick of his wrists, he pulls her to him.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m next to them. Pitching my voice low, I warn him, “You can stop now, Rinaldo. There are no cameras in here.”
Emilie’s light touch to my shoulder calms my temper like an all-clear. “It is okay, Wills.” She leans toward me, whispering, “Some reporters were allowed in for a few minutes to write positive press about the movie. The director asked that we play up the fake romance angle to garner more interest in the film. It is all part of the business—a part I plan on leaving behind after tonight.”
My eyes close as I accept defeat. Opening them, I look directly at Rinaldo. “I’m right behind you,” I say, and then melt behind them. Where I belong.
I spend the next half-hour “holding up walls,” as FPU so derisively put it. When I can’t control images of dismembering the Spanish douche any longer, I choose to step away and clear my head.
On the patio, people mill around—talking, drinking, smoking. Probably doing other shit, too. Whatever. I run down the marble steps into a manicured lawn and inhale the fres
h, clean LA air. At least the city’s equivalent.
I need to talk with Ems about her public appearances. I’m not a part of this lifestyle, and if we want to stay together, we have to find a way to make this work. Because it’s not working for me right now. At all.
I check my watch, surprised ten minutes have passed. Time for me to go back to my post.
Retracing my steps, I return to the main room. Rinaldo has a busty blonde draped all over him. Definitely not Ems. Although the change bodes well for his physical well-being.
Frowning, I search the room but don’t see Ems. The place has started to clear out, but Sally from the set stands by a table, chatting with a guy.
“Excuse me, Sally. I was wondering if you have seen Emilie recently?”
Sally’s face lights up when I address her. “Oh, Emilie is a miracle worker! She was just here a few minutes ago. She went in search of the ladies’ room. That way.” She points to yet another hallway off this room. What a maze.
“Thanks.”
Leaving them, I make my way in the direction she indicated. It’s dark. My brows pull together to a knot. It seems to be empty, too. The hallway curves to the right. As I head down to investigate, noises of a scuffle reach my ears.
I pick up my pace and turn the corner, only to find it dead ends behind another door. My heartrate increases. Whoever is behind the door is making a lot of noise. A man’s voice sifts through the air, but I cannot make out his words. My hand goes for the doorknob, but I hesitate. What if it’s some couple enjoying a bit of a role play?
“Allez-vous! Go away!”
My stomach tightens so fast I nearly double over. I’d know that French accent anywhere.
My hand flies to the doorknob, which opens without a struggle. Thank God. I burst through the doorway. Inside, Emilie shifts all her weight and propels her cupped hand forward, hitting the guy in front of her directly on his ear.
I blink in recognition. Wade Block.
He emits a howl of pain. Good. She takes a step but he springs at her, grabbing her ankle. She falls to the floor and he jumps on top of her. “I’ll make you pay,” he hisses, smacking her across the face.
