Brent watched on in complete amazement as Jessie took the booking and finished the call. When she hung up she grinned, rather too smugly for his liking.
“What were you saying about needing another secretary?”
Brent frowned. “Just give me the damn details.”
* * * *
“Bhenchod! Are you out of your fucking mind? No way am I having some amateur, star-struck, mall security guards following me around all day like puppies. I haven’t got time for this, Rahul. The IIFAs are in a couple of months, and until the award ceremony is over I need to be more accessible to my fans, not less. If we leave it another few weeks, all of the media hype will have died down and I’ll be able to continue using my current agency.”
Raj knew he sounded like a petulant child but he felt entitled, damn it. How the hell was he supposed to get used to a new set of bodyguards with everything else he had going on in his life? And what if they couldn’t be trusted? He needed men around that would be able to keep their mouths shut about his personal life. The last thing he needed was people around him that would go blabbing to the press at the first opportunity.
“With all due respect, Rajkumar, you have no choice in the matter. A guard from your agency shot a man in cold blood. That isn’t going to go away. The press will never forget it, and the threats you’ve been receiving cannot be ignored. In any case, the agency I plan on employing is British, not Indian. A few of their bodyguards are members of the British Bodyguard Association. I did some checking and they are the best in their field, so you don’t have to worry about your guards being star-struck—they probably won’t even know who you are.”
Raj raised his eyebrows at his agent’s response. British bodyguards? His cock started to harden in his trousers. He’d always been attracted to British men. And if his guards happened to be stereotypically tall, dark and handsome with strong, muscular bodies…well, even better. It couldn’t hurt to at least interview them, could it? Raj usually hated his agent’s ideas but this was about the best Rahul had come up with.
“Fine, I’ll meet with them,” he conceded, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. “Can you get someone to come here today?”
Rahul grinned mischievously. “Already done. Mr Brent Hawthorne will be here in ten minutes.”
“Bhenchod!”
“And I’d watch your language in front of the Brit. Some of them can be pissy about it.”
* * * *
“Fuck!” Brent stood on the pavement and stared blankly at a set of large, pale orange gates. The auto rickshaw driver had told him he was in the right place but there was no visible address on the street—the guy could have brought him anywhere.
He’d only been standing there for two minutes and already he’d had to fight off a slew of street kids who’d been pestering him for money. He made a point of not carrying much with him now, because the more he had on his person, the more he gave away. He couldn’t help himself. He’d always been a sucker for a hard luck story.
Brent fished a handkerchief out of his trouser pocket and used it to mop his brow. The heat was so intense and the air so sticky it didn’t seem to matter how many times he showered, he never felt clean. Despite the heat and humidity, the pollution was so heavy in Mumbai that Brent rarely saw the sun. And he didn’t want to think about the God-awful smell he’d encountered on more than one occasion. Grime and garbage littered the streets, providing the perfect nesting place for the city’s exorbitant rat population.
Jesus, Brent hated this damn city. Moving to India had to be the worse fucking idea Jack had ever come up with, and there had been some real gems over the last three years. But Brent figured he was the biggest idiot for falling for them. When the hell was he going to learn his lesson?
The gate he currently stood in front of was in the Malabar Hill district. It was arguably the best and certainly the most exclusive area of the city. The streets were cleaner and the houses grander. After a few moments of shaking his head, cursing and blaming the whole goddamn world for his present predicament, Brent noticed an intercom button to the side of the gate. He rolled his eyes, pressed it and waited for an answer.
“Namaste?”
Great, more Hindi.
“Hello? I have an appointment with Mr Khan.”
“Come in, please,” the male voice replied.
The orange gates swung open and Brent entered a large driveway with a winding path that led to the house. It was enormous. White ornamental columns held up the front of the building but the rest of the house was a sea of glass. The mixing of styles should have looked out of place but, oddly, they worked well together. Brent could see himself living in a house like this someday.
He walked up the steps to the porch and the front door opened just as he was raising his hand to knock.
“Mr Hawthorne.” A young Indian man wearing white pyjamas stood to the side and motioned for Brent to enter. “If you’ll follow me.”
Brent nodded and crossed the threshold into a large and very grand entrance hall. Inside, the house was British colonial in design. The wooden floor was a deep mahogany, the walls a gleaming white, and each piece of furniture Brent passed looked more expensive than the last. Every item looked antique. Each piece probably cost more than he made in a year.
As he was led further into the house, Brent’s training kicked in. He made a mental note of the number of rooms, the windows and doors in each and the type of security system installed. The house wasn’t a fortress exactly, but Brent was impressed. Motion detectors flickered ominously from the corners of every room.
“Ah, Mr Hawthorne. Thank you for coming here so quickly.” A portly man in his late forties got up from a chaise on the balcony and crossed the room to stand in front of Brent. His eyes gave Brent the once-over before he offered his hand in greeting. “My name is Rahul Kapoor. I’m Rajkumar Khan’s agent.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Brent shook the man’s hand and released it quickly. “I understand your client is in need of a new bodyguard team?”
“Yes, but before we get down to business, can I offer you a drink? Tea, coffee, something stronger perhaps?”
“Water will be fine.” Brent had strict rules about drinking whilst on duty. He might not be guarding anyone just yet but that was irrelevant. He and Jack needed this job and so it was essential that he made a good impression. If one big name in the industry hired them, the rest would follow. They always did.
Rahul nodded, turned to the servant waiting near the door and addressed him in Hindi. The servant bowed and left the room.
“Aakash will get that for you. Please, let us go to the patio. It’s a beautiful day.”
Brent followed Rahul through a large set of patio doors that led to the garden at the back of the house. His eyes flickered around, taking in the unusual plants and flowers that bordered the neatly manicured lawn. An eight-foot hedge surrounded the space. To the left of the house was a decked area that housed a large pool. There didn’t appear to be an exit out on to the street from anywhere in the garden.
Rahul made himself comfortable in a large wicker chaise covered in a white, cotton cushion pad. Like everything else in the house, it looked expensive…overly so. He motioned for Brent to take a seat in the matching chair opposite. Brent nodded, sat and waited for the man to speak.
“My client is a very famous man in our country, Mr Hawthorne. He is one of the top actors in Bollywood and it is paramount that his private life remains private. I take it everything we discuss today is confidential?”
Surely that was a given in his profession. Brent was tempted to roll his eyes but he fought the impulse. Instead, he gave a sharp nod of his head to appease the man.
“Of course.”
“Very good. Mr Hawthorne, my client is gay.”
Brent frowned. He wasn’t shocked by Rahul’s statement—he’d known there would be as many gay men here in India as there would be anywhere else in the world—but the disdainful way Rahul said it had Brent firmly o
n the defensive in two seconds flat. And this man was supposed to be Rajkumar’s agent? Talk about ‘with friends like these’…
Crossing his arms over his chest, Brent threw the man a level stare. Christ, he’d just met the guy and already he disliked him. Of course, it could have had something to do with the way Rahul had curled his upper lip when he’d made the announcement—disgust evident on his chubby, pockmarked face.
“And that’s an issue how, exactly?”
“Mr Hawthorne, this is Mumbai, not LA. Homosexuality might be the norm in other parts of the world but we have a very low tolerance of it here. Rajkumar’s career would be in tatters should his preference become common knowledge.”
“Is there any danger of that?” Brent wanted to know if Rajkumar’s sexuality had anything to do with the threats he’d been receiving.
Rahul sighed. “It is not only my client’s safety that has been threatened. His…habits are also in danger of exposure.”
Brent tensed his jaw. Was Rahul insinuating that being gay was a habit? He fought to keep his mouth shut. It wouldn’t do to piss off potential clients because he didn’t like what they had to say. All-Star Security was in its infancy and, if Brent wanted the business to grow, he needed a good reputation among the bigwigs in the industry. And Rahul and his client Rajkumar were about as big as they came. Brent had Googled the actor before he’d left the office and it seemed he was a very big star in Bollywood.
He was sexy as all hell, too.
“How exactly has your client been receiving these threats?”
“Letters,” a low, husky voice sounded at the door. Brent turned to the intruder and his breath caught in his chest. Holy fuck. The man was hot. The pictures he’d pulled up on the Internet in no way did Rajkumar Khan justice. He was far more attractive in real life—about as tall as Brent with a lean body, jet black hair and the face of a god.
Raj had light skin, the colour of cappuccino, and his complexion was flawless. Brent could do nothing but stare and try not to be embarrassed by how much his dick approved of Mr Khan’s appearance, too. The deity was leaning casually against the doorframe. His hands were pushed into his trouser pockets and his eyes sparkled with mischief. Brent pulled ineffectually at his collar. Had the temperature just risen twenty degrees? And where was that goddamn glass of water he’d been promised?
As he stared, Raj’s mouth curved up into a teasing smirk. He removed his hands from his pockets and glided across the room with a poise and elegance Brent had never witnessed in a man. He stopped in front of Brent and held out his hand.
“I’m Rajkumar. My friends call me Raj.”
Brent stood up. He swallowed hard and took hold of the proffered hand, hoping the rapidly growing erection in his trousers wouldn’t be too evident. “Brent Hawthorne.”
Raj’s hand lingered for a moment before he pulled it away, his fingers stroking lightly across Brent’s knuckles. The simple touch had Brent practically panting. He tried to ignore what the touch did to his dick, and he should definitely not have been thinking about the man’s hands on his dick…
“Rahul, you can wait for me in my study. I’d like to speak to Mr Hawthorne alone.”
Rahul’s eyes widened. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Raj…”
“I wasn’t asking,” Raj interrupted.
Rahul nodded and rose stiffly from the chaise. “Fine. I have some calls to make anyway. You know where to find me.”
Raj waited until Rahul had left the room before speaking. “I’m sorry about that but my agent is not very sympathetic to my condition.”
Brent furrowed his brow. “Your…condition?” Jesus, was the guy ill?
“The fact that I am gay,” Raj said with a shrug of his shoulders.
Brent’s mouth fell open. Raj made being gay sound like a disease. Brent chose to ignore the comment. It had nothing to do with why he was here. Focus, Brent. Raj sat down in the chaise Rahul had vacated and when Brent sat back down he decided to ask Raj about his agent, even though he feared he might be overstepping the mark.
“Why don’t you fire him? Hire someone else?”
Raj smiled indulgently. “Mr Hawthorne…”
“Please, call me Brent.”
Raj nodded. “Brent, this is India. I’d be hard-pressed to find someone who didn’t have a problem with the way I live my life. Besides, Rahul is good at his job.”
“But there must be other agents who are equally capable.”
“Yes, but Rahul got me where I am today. Without him I’d be just another wannabe with Bollywood dreams.”
“I’ll need to see the letters,” Brent decided to move their conversation back to business before he said something he’d regret, both about Raj’s choice to stay with an obviously homophobic agent and his decision to remain in the closet. Brent had never had to hide his sexuality, but he could understand why someone in Raj’s position felt the need. An openly gay man would not be hired to play a romantic lead, especially here in India where there was an even bigger stigma placed on being gay than in the Western world. It was unfortunate, but it was true.
“What are the police doing about all of this?”
Raj threw Brent a sheepish look. “I’m afraid my agent lied on the phone when he called your office. He was worried you would refuse to help us if you knew the truth. We haven’t taken this matter to the police.”
Brent started to shake his head. No. He was happy to guard someone whose life was in danger but he insisted they go through the proper channels if they were under threat. Brent was a bodyguard, not a detective. If Raj had someone stalking and blackmailing him then that person needed to be caught and brought to justice.
“Please, hear me out?” Raj had lowered his head and his large, brown eyes looked up at Brent through thick, dark lashes. The man’s earlier confidence had all but disappeared. The longer he stared into those beautiful brown eyes, the more Brent felt his resistance slip. Raj’s gaze was filled with insecurity and uncertainty. Crap. Brent was majorly fucked.
Raj waited for Brent to acknowledge his question. He’d felt an instant connection to Brent and wasn’t surprised to realise the man’s opinion mattered. He hoped Brent’s agency would take on the job. Something about the way Brent carried himself put Raj right at ease. He felt safe around him. He found himself wanting to open up to the man, to trust him and gain his trust in return.
And, damn, but the man was sexy. Tall and broad, he was the absolute essence of masculinity. Brent Hawthorne was a man Raj wanted to get to know better, and not only in the biblical sense.
The uncertainty disappeared from Brent’s eyes. “Fair enough, go on.”
Raj let out the breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding when Brent’s dark blue eyes widened and he nodded, willing him to continue.
“I’m not sure how much you know about Bollywood but it is getting very close to the IIFAs. They are basically our version of the Oscars.”
Brent nodded. “I’ve heard of them.”
“I have been nominated for Best Actor, aside from which I have two films coming out in the next few months. If anyone were to find out about my sexuality, ratings would nosedive and the studio stands to lose a lot of money. I have no doubt they’d sue.”
Brent frowned and Raj had a burning desire to reach across and smooth out the lines on the man’s forehead with his finger.
“They can’t sue you for being gay.”
“No, but I’m sure they would find something they could sue me for.”
“I’m not sure I understand what this has to do with the threats and reporting the matter to the police.”
“It has everything to do with them. Although our police here are highly competent, they are not infallible. I cannot risk anyone finding out about me. The fewer people that know about my sexuality the better, at least until the IIFAs are over and the films have completed their run in the cinema. After that, I don’t care who finds out.”
“You don’t care?” Brent raised his eyebr
ows. “Wouldn’t it harm your chances of getting more roles in the future if people were to know you are gay?”
“It doesn’t matter. The movie I am currently filming will be my last. I am quitting the business for good. I enjoyed it once but not anymore. I’m tired. Tired of the falseness of the industry I once loved and of pretending to be something I’m not. I don’t want to continue with this double life anymore.
“Besides, I’ve made more than enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life. And I already have some ideas for businesses I’d like to start up as soon as my time is my own again. As you can see, it is paramount that my sexual preference remains a secret even if only for another few months.
“I have to admit I wasn’t happy about the idea of hiring new bodyguards but my agent insists upon it. Though I don’t like many of his suggestions, I’m afraid on this matter I have to bend. The threats I’ve been receiving are becoming more frequent and the level of violence they allude to is escalating.”
There. Raj had laid his cards on the table. What Brent did with them was up to him, but he prayed Brent would understand and help. The bodyguard sat back in his chair and used his thumb and forefinger to scrub at the stubble on his chin. Raj wondered what it would feel like rubbing against his own if they were to kiss. Brent’s eyes moved from side to side before he finally met Raj’s gaze.
“What happened to your previous bodyguards? Why are you looking to hire a new team at such an important time in your career? Did you have an issue with them?”
“You haven’t heard, then?” Raj sighed. “I’m surprised. It has been all over the news here. Two of the bodyguards at my agency were involved in, shall we say, a disagreement? They had what you’d call a shootout and a man was killed. The incident created all sorts of bad press for them and many actors’ management companies have stopped using the agency. It’s a shame. They are good at what they do. Rahul has spent the past few weeks looking for another. Although your company is new, it comes highly recommended.” Raj waited with bated breath.
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