by Nicole Vidal
A look crosses his face, one I can’t discern. I would give anything to be able to read his thoughts right now.
He attempts to speak twice and fails. Connor at a loss for words is intriguing and sexy as hell. “You’re impressive.”
I feel my cheeks heating up. “Thank you. What are you concerned about?”
“Did you review the names on the list that Bruce gave me?”
“No, should I have?”
“Given the small circle you surround yourself with, I’m going to assume you have deep-rooted trust issues.”
I inhale deeply. “You didn’t read it?”
He takes my hand in his. It envelopes mine. “You asked me not to. I would prefer you tell me your story when you’re ready.”
A single tear falls from my eye. Connor wipes it away with the back of his other hand. The tenderness of the gesture isn’t lost on me.
“You’re right. My circle is small, and I don’t trust easily. My childhood wasn’t pleasant, Connor.” Well, the first seven years or so were amazing. After that, not so much. “I’ll share with you as soon as we have enough time for me to regain my composure afterward.”
“Thank you. I had my team check out the entire list. There are three people that were flagged specifically—Bradley Trellis, Michael Bergin, and Theo Kellerman. Aside from Brad, do you know either of them?”
“Mr. Bergin is harmless. He’s a lonely, elderly man. Early on, he brought his granddaughter to my concerts. She died of leukemia two years ago. Ever since he has attended each concert in her honor.”
He nods. “What about Mr. Kellerman?”
“I have no idea who that is. The name doesn’t sound familiar. Honestly though, if he was at a meet and greet, I would only get his first name for the autograph.”
“Okay. Do you actually see your fan mail?”
“No. Pamela handles the innocuous mail, and she sends an autographed photo back to everyone who asks for one. Bruce handles the threats as part of my security. While I don’t have personal knowledge of the contents of the threats Pamela forwards to Bruce, I’m confident they’re severe enough that Bruce hired a bodyguard for me. What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’m not hiding anything, more like gathering your level of knowledge. Do you have a bodyguard when you aren’t on tour?”
“When I’m not touring, I don’t have security unless I’m attending a public event.”
“Do you dress like Carys when you’re in public and not on tour?”
I wonder why he needs to know but answer him anyway. “Yes and no. If I have an event or interview, yes. Otherwise, no. I live in the middle of nowhere. The closest town is fifteen miles away.” Big cities make me nervous. Yet, it’s where I play. I don’t go anywhere when I’m on tour other than the arena and my hotel.
“We can talk about this more later. You should eat before it’s cold.”
I finish my mostly cold breakfast while he finishes his coffee, which I assume is also cold. I excuse myself to my room attempting to wrap my head around sharing my life story with Connor. A few hours later, I dress for our trip to the arena.
When I return to the sitting room, Connor is waiting for me to head to the arena.
“All set?” He turns toward me.
“Sure.”
This elevator ride is uneventful, which is supremely unfortunate for me. It means Connor is standing dutifully beside me keeping his hands to himself. I would give anything to curl into his arms again. Chastising myself for fantasizing about my bodyguard, I sigh loudly.
“You okay?”
Damn him and his perceptiveness. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”
We arrive at the arena and go through my preparations. Connor is unintrusive even though he isn’t more than an arm’s length away from me. About twenty minutes before the meet and greet, Connor leads me to my dressing room.
“I thought you might be hungry.” He uncovers a tray of tacos with all the fixings.
There is no way he knows I love tacos. “Thank you. Do you have some secret dossier on me?”
He smirks. “No, why?”
“Tacos are my favorite.”
He pulls out my chair and then sits beside me. “Mine too.” His voice is soft.
“Tell me something else about you?” I ask.
“Like what? My favorite color?”
I almost spit out my water trying to contain a laugh. “Sure, we can start there.”
“Green. You?”
“Aqua.”
“That’s surprising.”
“You expected pink or purple, huh?”
He grins. “Yeah, I did.”
“What branch of the service were you in?”
“Why do you think I served?”
He’s wrestling with sharing details about himself. It makes me wonder why. “It’s the way you carry yourself. You’re unflappable, steadfast, and calm under pressure. All are necessary characteristics for a bodyguard. I’m wondering how you came to have them.”
“I was Army. I served with Jake and one of our other Blackthorne team members, Christoph.”
“Are you originally from Maryland?”
He raises an eyebrow. “How do you know I live in Maryland?”
“Your—”
“Never mind, my license. I grew up in Pennsylvania. I don’t live far from where I grew up.” An alarm sounds on his phone. “Ready to greet your adoring fans?”
“Sure.” I check my stage makeup and move to the small room to greet my diehard fans.
Chapter Eight
Connor
Getting to know Calliope is going to require me to share about myself. That isn’t something I do often. My concerns about Jake walling himself off weren’t unfounded after Mara died. However, I wasn’t exactly moving forward either. I haven’t had a long-term relationship in a long time. My girlfriend in high school was Mara’s best friend, Laila. After graduation, I went to the military academy, and she went to college on the West Coast. We talked and video chatted while we were apart. When we saw each other that first Thanksgiving, it wasn’t the same. It ended then. Three lengthy deployments don’t allow for lasting relationships if they didn’t exist beforehand.
Almost a year ago, Shea, my booty call, for lack of a better term, ended things to get into a relationship with her boss. We were off and on for over two years. Only Jake knew about Shea. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, much like Jake and Norah’s before she needed to outrun the Moretti crime family. Now, they’re married and considering starting a family. That thought brings me back to the present as I lead Carys out of her dressing room. The warmth of her skin under my palm sends the same awareness through me. It has never happened with any other woman.
I feel her inhale before setting her hand on the knob.
“I’ll be to your right for the entire event,” I inform her.
“You’re different than the rest, aren’t you?”
“If you mean your bodyguards, yes. If you mean men, absolutely.”
She turns, lifting her gaze to mine. Even as Carys, she’s smaller than me. There’s a flicker of unmistakable desire in her eyes. “You feel it too?”
I lean down near the shell of her ear. “Yes. We’ll talk more after your show.”
She nods and enters the room to a huge round of applause. The pitch of the cheers and screams is almost deafening. I’m about five feet to her right. Her publicist is sitting beside her, handing her photos to autograph. I should be completely focused on the crowd. Yet every so often, I gaze over at her to check in. Her posture is more rigid as Carys, and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She nods at me slightly before smiling at the young girl standing before her. I return to watching her fans. There are approximately ten more people in line. Two from the end is her ex, Brad.
As long as he’s respectful, everything will be fine. As the line dwindles, I move closer to the table. I’m beside the short edge of the table when Brad steps to the front of the line.
As Carys r
eaches over to grab the photo from her publicist, she’s already speaking, “Hi, thank you for coming. How are you—” Her canned greeting is cut short when she hears his voice.
“Hey! It’s so good to see you,” Brad says.
I block his attempt to round the table as she pushes her chair back.
“Brad. What are you doing here?” Carys eyes the rest of the line behind him.
“I came to see my best girl. I want another chance.” He’s exactly as his file suggests—brown hair, brown eyes, average height and build.
She slides slightly behind me, but she can still see him. “Thank you for coming. Now isn’t the appropriate time for this conversation. Why don’t you reach out to Bruce, and we can set something up?” Her voice sounds strained. Clearly more contact with Brad is the last thing she wants.
“Baby, I need you back,” Brad pleads.
“Sir, Carys suggested how you can address your concerns. I recommend you heed her request.”
Brad’s focus shifts to me. “What are you going to do about it?” He steps closer to me and her.
I slide my left hand behind me and nudge her backward. Brad seizes the opportunity, believing I’m unable to defend myself at this point. He strikes forward with his right fist. I grab his wrist with my right hand and bend so it’s behind his back.
I escort him out of the room and immediately contact arena security. Within a minute, they escort him from the building and confiscate his backstage pass and ticket for tonight’s show. Promptly, I return to find Carys talking with the final fan in the line. Her fan is at most twelve years old with platinum blonde hair and big blue eyes. She can barely contain her excitement.
“Can I hug you before I go?” A huge smile breaks out on the young girl’s face.
Carys nods, rounds the table, and hugs her adoring fan. Carys waves as she exits with her mom. I move to the rear of the room to verify the door is locked. Her publicist whispers something to Carys as she leaves and nods toward me. I lock the door after her publicist leaves.
Once I’m certain we’re alone, I ask, “What do you need?”
She steps closer to me, slides her arms around my waist, her hands flat against my back, and rests her head on my chest. As wrong as it is for me as her bodyguard, I surround her in my arms. There is no question in my mind, she belongs there. Her body pressed against mine is miles beyond when I shook her hand or carried her to into her bedroom. Separating my need to protect her and my desire to be with her is only going to get more difficult. A few minutes pass before she gazes up at me. She may be dressed as Carys, but this is Calliope in my arms.
“Thank you. I’m sure this is against every single rule you have.”
“If you need me to hold you, I will, regardless of the rules I should be adhering too. Before you ask, I have never been attracted to one of my clients before despite their physical beauty.”
She inhales to speak but fails. I’ve stunned her speechless. “How do you do that?”
“What?”
“Answer my questions before I even ask them.”
I consider how truthful I should be in this moment. “At the risk of needing to come clean to Jake about my attraction to you, I’m drawn to you, and the connection I feel is stronger than I’ve ever felt with anyone else.”
“What would that mean?” Concern that I’ll leave weaves through her words.
“It would mean someone else from Blackthorne would be here to keep me in check. Don’t worry about that right now. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not concerned that I need backup yet for me or for the threats against you. Go on stage and sing your heart out.”
Her eyes pin to mine with the same desire I feel. Succumbing to my aching need to kiss her isn’t the right call at this moment, but I truly wish it were. Her tongue following the curve of her pouty lips isn’t helping either.
There’s a strong knock on the door after an attempt to open it. “Carys, do you need touchup before your curtain time?”
“I’ll be right there, Shelley.” She exhales and steps out of my embrace, her Carys persona back in place. It must be draining to put on these shows and not be her true self.
“Ready?”
She nods and moves toward the door. I unlock the door and follow her to makeup. After a quick touch-up, we move to her first place to open the show. Once she rises on the lift, I take a position at stage right. I scan the crowd methodically from left to right. I note Mr. Bergin in the second row smiling. Now I know the criteria that Bruce uses, and I understand why he’s on the level one list. However, based on Calliope’s explanation, I would move him down to level four considering the reason he makes each show. I understand. It’s the same reason I watch Mara’s favorite movie, Serendipity, on our birthday and the date of her death to remember her.
After another check onstage, I continue my scan. Theo Kellerman is in the fourth row. When I reach row twenty, I move back toward the front again. Venue security has the side entrance to the stage well covered. There are three additional venue security guards standing at the foot of the stage. The front row seats at this arena are five feet from the stage. She’s nearing her complex costume change, so I move back beneath the stage near the lift. I make it in enough time for her to nod at me and watch in awe as her team switches her costume from pink and black to all black without exposing her in any way. The precision and speed are impressive.
I hustle back up to stage right and wait for the end of her show. Near the end of the second half of the show, I note that Theo is no longer in his seat. I monitor his empty seat until she completes the last song of the night. Noting he hasn’t returned, I immediately escort her to the waiting car. Since there were no curtain calls, she’ll be back in her room by ten.
I notice that the driver now is not the same one who brought us to the arena. That isn’t necessarily an issue—a team of drivers rather than one. Either way, I lift the privacy screen for the ride to the hotel. Even with the screen up, Carys doesn’t say a word. She didn’t yesterday after rehearsal, so I don’t expect it today. Yet I ask anyway.
Chapter Nine
Calliope
Tonight’s show wasn’t as good as last week’s, but that’s mostly because we are down a dancer and Brad’s presence rattled me. It would have been much worse if Connor wasn’t standing beside me. None of my other bodyguards we present at the meet and greets. They felt that Bruce handled who had access well enough.
I shiver at that thought. Bruce handles all of that. No. Bruce has no reason to hurt me. Does he?
“What is going on in your head?” Connor leans into me to get my attention.
“I’ll answer you. Can we do it in the suite though?”
He nods and resumes scanning out the window. At the hotel, I dutifully wave to my fans and enter the elevator. Once the door to my suite closes, I strip off my wig and costume and start the shower.
Connor knocks softly on my door. “Do you want food?”
“No, I’m fine. Feel free to order for yourself. I’ll be out in ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
I open the enclosure and step into the shower. Washing Carys away gets more frustrating each time. Maybe that isn’t the right word. I may want to reconsider my career. I would prefer to write songs over singing dressed in a wig that disguises who I truly am. I don’t mean me the orphan and ward of the state until age eighteen, mostly anyway. I mean, the real me and the music I would prefer to sing, not what’s marketable given my image.
I rinse my hair and add soap to my loofah. The feelings I have for Connor, well that’s an entirely different topic. Maybe “feelings” isn’t the right word yet. I like him more than I should, especially since he works for me and the last thing we should do is get involved. Yet he sees me. He sees Calliope not Carys. No one has seen me, the real me, since my parents were alive. That doesn’t even consider the fact that he’s only here temporarily. When the tour is over, he’ll be gone. Even though I haven’t looked at a map, I don’t think he lives
that far from me. I shake that thought away and finish showering.
“Calliope?” I hear Connor’s voice through the door. It’s deep and soothing, especially when he says my name.
“Yeah?”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes, why?”
I hear a strong exhale, concern more than frustration. “It’s been almost a half hour, and you don’t usually take that long. Plus, Bruce called. He’s on his way here.”
“I’ll be right out. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I shut off the water, hurriedly dry off, and pull on some lounge pants, a tank top, and an open-back top. While I pull a brush through my hair, I overhear Connor speaking with someone, and then the door closes.
“Bruce, what can I do for you?” Connor asks.
Bruce is easily as tall as Connor but about a third of his size on a good day. He has been my manager since soon after I signed my first contract. I interviewed the seven people Madeleine recommended. I chose Bruce at the ripe old age of eighteen.
“I appreciate all the work you have put in, but your services are no longer needed. I have retained a new bodyguard for Carys for the remainder of her tour.”
I consider joining them in the living room but wait it out instead.
“On what basis? I’m barely done completing my assessment of her personal security. After today’s incident with Bradley Trellis, I’m not leaving unless she fires me.”
I slide open the door and join them. “Bruce, good to see you.”
“Callie. Great show tonight. We need to discuss your security. Blackthorne is not working for me.”
Intrigue slices through me. Connor is more on top of my security than anyone else Bruce hired ever has been. I would like him to be on top of me, but now isn’t the time to explore that. Focus, Calliope! “How so?”
