My Secret Billionaire Bodyguard: Clean Billionaire Romance (Peachtree Billionaires Book 3)

by Cate Remy

  “Brandon-”

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  He sounded calm over the phone, yet she knew never to be too sure about car accidents. “Alright, Brandon, get your car towed and make sure you go and get checked out by a doctor right after. You might have whiplash.”

  “Will do. Gotta go.”

  She rested the phone on her knee. She stared out the windshield at a red traffic light before turning to Cy. “Brandon’s getting his car towed. I told him we could come by, but he said to keep going to the set without him.”

  “I heard a little bit of the conversation.”

  “I want to check on him later.”

  Cy nodded. “What are you going to do? Don’t you still need a real assistant to help you with makeup?”

  “I do, and Nelle has an exam today.” She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt another headache coming on. She fished in her purse for a couple aspirin. “Guess that means you’re going to be my real assistant for the day. You ever work with movie stars, Cy?”

  CY STOOD WITH DAHLIA at Prima Studios while she handed her identification to the set manager on the site where the movie was being filmed. She made up a story about him being her makeup and effects guy. Why did I agree to this?

  People buzzed past him, talking and carrying food, props, camera equipment, and all kinds of items that could present a work hazard. He stepped aside as another man passed, narrowly missing getting clocked on the side of the head with a curtain rod.

  “Hey, you got to watch where you’re standing.”

  Where he was standing? Try learning to walk in a straight line. Cy narrowed his eyes at the careless guy as he trotted away in a crooked path.

  “Cy, they need your ID,” Dahlia said.

  He reached for his wallet and handed his driver’s license to the set manager. The man nodded and scribbled his name down on a piece of paper. “I just started working here last fall. You two work here before?”

  “First time,” Dahlia replied to him. “You’re really busy today, Mr. Bishop.”

  “We are always busy. Ever since the new set opened, we got Hollywood execs and producers calling to schedule their movies to be filmed here. It’s getting expensive out there in Cali.” The set manager gave Cy his driver’s license back. “You don’t look like a normal assistant.”

  “What’s normal?” Cy countered.

  He felt a tug on his shirt sleeve. Dahlia was pulling him away from the set manager. “We have to go. Keke’s waiting for us in her dressing room.”

  He allowed himself to be pulled along past people dressed in bell bottoms and polyester suits. Towards the far right of the set, he saw what looked to be a backdrop for a nightclub. There was even a sparkly disco ball hanging from the ceiling. “What movie set is this again?”

  “They’re filming a movie called Dead Disco Dream. It’s about a seventies serial killer who tracks victims in nightclubs.”

  “Is your client playing the killer?”

  Dahlia’s chocolate brown eyes widened. “Oh gosh, no. Keke’s starring as the singer who spots the killer in the club and warns everyone to get out. It’s based on the book.”

  “Since when did you start reading horror novels?”

  “I didn’t. I went online and skimmed through a list of Keke’s latest projects on the way here. I didn’t want to look like I didn’t know anything about my client. Some of them are really sensitive about those things.”

  “I don’t know how you do it. When you asked me in the car whether I worked with movie stars before, I thought you meant as their security.”

  “That could be why you didn’t get my joke.” Dahlia stopped before a door. Keke’s first name was spelled out at the top in bold black letters. Cy waited for her to make a fist and knock. She looked over her shoulder at him. “I rushed getting here. Do I look like I know what I’m doing?”

  All he could see was Dahlia’s attractive upturned face, framed by her cloud of curls that defied gravity. He wanted to put his fingers in her hair. She was stunning, but that wasn’t the question she asked him. “I say you look like you can get the job done.”

  “I’ll take it.” She knocked on the door.

  “Besides, you have your own product line. Keke probably doesn’t.”

  Dahlia put her finger to her smiling lips. Something inside him was glad he got her to smile.

  “Who is it?” a woman projected her voice from inside.

  “It’s Dahlia Dean. I’m going to be doing your makeup today.”

  She still had her hand on the door knob. It opened so fast she was almost yanked inside. Cy caught her as she stumbled back. His face met her hair in a soft black cloud that smelled like vanilla and a hint of flowers.

  “It’s about time you got here.” The actress who was Keke motioned Dahlia inside. She was very tall, well over six feet. Her long, slinky silver gown looked like it was made from the same material as the disco ball. The light caught it from different angles. Cy blinked as his eyes tried to adjust.

  Dahlia steadied herself and stepped away from him. She went inside the room. “I apologize for not getting here sooner. This is my assistant, Cyrus. He’s going to help me set up.”

  Why did she use his full first name?

  Keke gave him a discerning look. “Cyrus? What kind of name is that?”

  “Uh, Cyrus the Great is his stage name.” Dahlia talked fast. “He does Shakespearean theater on the side.”

  He wanted to cringe at her bad lying.

  “Well, this is a good place for him to watch and learn if he ever wants to break onto the big screen. That’s where the real money is.” Keke crossed the small space in silver platforms. They were about five inches high. “But he can watch and learn after I get my face on.”

  “Alright, Miss Keke. I just need to set up and plug in my styling tools.”

  “Hurry. I need to be on set in twenty minutes.” Keke sat in her dressing room chair in front of a mirror with overhead lighting.

  Dahlia unzipped her bag and started taking out brushes and little pots filled with glitter. She gave a nod to Cy to open the other bag. He complied to find it was full of hair products and styling tools.

  “Get that curling iron plugged in,” Keke ordered him. “I need to have Farah Fawcett hair in the next scene.”

  He angled his head and gave Dahlia a look that he hoped made his message clear. He had no idea how to operate a curling iron and there was no way he was about to burn his fingers off trying.

  Dahlia stuck the curling iron plug into an outlet in the wall. “Miss Keke, I’m going to be doing your hair and makeup, but my assistant will run and get us something to drink.”

  “Good. I’m thirsty. I’ll have a Diet Coke.”

  “Water for me.” Dahlia gave him the thumbs up.

  That was a close one. Cy stepped out of the dressing room and back into the chaos that was the Dead Disco Dream movie set. He scanned the area until he caught sight of white tables along the rear. Caterers filed past the set manager, carrying food warmers. One of them tried to drag in a big blue cooler by himself. Cy jumped in to give him a hand.

  “Thanks, man.” The server nodded his gratitude. “We’re one short today and I’m picking up the slack.”

  “No problem.” He helped the caterer carry the cooler to the tables. They set it down against the wall.

  The caterer wiped his brow. “Are you with the set crew?”

  “I’m with hair and makeup.” Did he just say that?

  The caterer lifted the lid of the cooler. “There’s drinks in there if you want one.”

  “You got Diet Coke and water?”

  “Plenty. Help yourself.”

  Cy got what he needed, thanked the caterer and left. On his way past the set manager again, this time he stopped. Two police officers were talking to the set manager. Were they actors dressed for their part in the film? Those sergeant badges and their uniforms did not look like costumes.

  The set manager caught him studying the scene. H
e got a bad feeling as the manager walked up to him.

  “Where’s Dahlia? The police are here to talk to her.”

  “She’s still in Keke’s dressing room, helping her get ready. Did they say what it was about?”

  “No, but this isn’t looking good for the studio. I can’t have the police walking around set while we’re trying to film. The budgets on horror flicks aren’t that much, you know? You need to tell Dahlia to get out here and talk to them.”

  Cy wanted to tell the set manager something. He took the high road and nodded instead. “Tell them I’m on my way to get her.”

  He took long strides to get to Keke’s dressing room. Upon arrival, Dahlia and the actress opened the door and stepped out.

  “Nice job, Shakespeare.” Keke swiped her Diet Coke out of his hand and kept on going, her feathered waves bouncing with every platform step.

  “I didn’t mean to make you have to go and look for drinks.” Dahlia reached to take the water from him. “You could have just asked the set manager.”

  “Dahlia, the police are here to talk to you. I don’t know what they want. I figure it has to do with Mary.”

  Immediately, he saw the excitement from being on a movie set go out of her eyes. She gripped the water bottle tight. “Let’s hope they already found the guy and couldn’t wait to tell me about it.”

  She put on a brave face, though he could see how upset she was. He put his hand on her back and walked with her to where the set manager and the police officers waited.

  Chapter Six

  Dahlia clutched the cold water bottle as she approached the set manager and the two uniformed officers waiting there with him. Her heart started to pound. Her hands sweated as much as the cold plastic bottle she gripped so tightly.

  What was this about? They must have called her office to try to reach her. The call redirected to Nelle. How else would they have known she’d be at Prima Studios today?

  “Here’s Miss Dean.” Harry indicated to her with his hand.

  One of the officers nodded. “We’ll take it from here.”

  Harry looked relieved. He went out on the floor where the disco ball and dance floor was located.

  Dahlia felt Cy’s hand against her back as she went up to the officers. “Hello, I’m Dahlia.”

  “Miss Dean, I’m Sergeant Mayor and this is Sergeant Gibbs.” Sergeant Mayor looked to Cy. “We need to talk to you alone for a minute.”

  She faced Cy. He nodded without her saying a word. He rubbed her back once before stepping away. She spoke to the officers again. “Is this about the Marsters case?”

  “One of our homicide detectives called your office about half an hour ago. The number redirected to your assistant. Nelle, was it?”

  “Yes. She told you I was working out of the office today?”

  “She did. Is there a chance you can come down to the station? The detectives have some questions about Mary Marsters that they want to ask you.”

  If the cops came to tell her that, she knew it was urgent. Maybe they found something that could catch the man in the black mask. “I’m finished on set. I can come by now.”

  “I’ll let the detectives know they can expect to see you at the station soon.”

  With that, the officers turned around and left.

  DAHLIA WENT TO THE police station with Cy. He had a seat in the waiting area while she was taken into the back with the detectives. He couldn’t come with her because he wasn’t her attorney or part of the investigation.

  “Have you found something?” Nervous, she chewed on the inside of her jaw while a detective in a suit approached.

  “Miss Dean, were you aware that Mary Marsters had an ex-husband?”

  “She told me she had been married once, but her ex left the country three years ago after they divorced.”

  “Did she ever show you his pictures? Did you see any around the house?”

  She tried to recall, and then shook her head. “Not that I can remember. When I went there, I was always focused on what I needed to do for her makeup. I think she may have had pictures of her parents in her living room, but that’s all I can think of.”

  “Thank you, Miss Dean. I’ll give you a call if I need to speak with you again.”

  That was it? Part of Dahlia wanted to be relieved because it was over. Another part of her wanted to know what the detective’s next step would be. “Do you think the masked man was Mary’s ex-husband?”

  “We’re still looking for the person who broke into her house. Have a good afternoon, Miss Dean.” The detective opened the door to let her out first.

  She scuffled back into the waiting area. Cy got out of his seat when she came by. “That was quick.”

  “They said I can leave. They just wanted to ask me some questions. More like one question.”

  She put her coat on and went outside. Once they were in the car, Cy turned to her. “Did they find him?”

  “No, it doesn’t sound like they did. The detective asked me what I knew about Mary Marsters’s ex-husband. He hasn’t been in the states for three years.”

  “That you know of.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  Cy waited for a police cruiser to drive out of the parking lot first before he did. “Estranged exes can be trouble, even the ones who aren’t yours.”

  “You sound like you’re talking from experience.”

  “I’ve helped protect other clients from ex-spouses who just didn’t know when to go away. You need to be careful. If her ex-husband is still out there and he’s nursing a grudge, he could be looking for you since you saw what happened.”

  Dahlia felt a sheet of ice slide down her back. “If he’s been out of the country for years, I can’t think why he’d still be nursing a grudge.” She balanced her purse in her lap and shrugged. “Not like I would know anything about it.”

  “Yeah. I need to fill up the tank.” As usual, Cy kept his eyes glued to the road. She could tell he was thinking.

  She checked her phone. She got a text from Brandon. He told her he got cleared from the doctor and his father was taking him home from the clinic. “Brandon’s doing well. We can go home, too.”

  After Cy filled up his tank, he drove her to her house and parked in her driveway. “I’ll stay here until night patrol comes.”

  She opened the door and stuck one foot out. Then she paused. “I’m not sure I said thanks for securing my office and going to the movie set with me. I know it’s been a lot with my online videos, meetings with editors, and pretending to be my assistant today on set.”

  “You really don’t have to thank me. I keep telling you it’s my job.”

  “I still appreciate what you do.”

  She wasn’t sure if he nodded after what she said or if he was just looking in the rearview mirror at a set of headlights behind them. “See you in the morning.”

  Dahlia felt a little isolated. All she did was express her gratitude for him going out of his way and something about his tone indicated that he didn’t want to hear her.

  Maybe this was how he acted towards all his clients. This could be his professional distance. Or was she the only one with whom he wanted to maintain distance?

  She stuck her other foot out of the door and finished getting out of the car as the night patrol went up to her driveway. Cy gave a quick nod to the other guy in the car before he drove off.

  She went into her house and kicked off her shoes. Her phone rang in her purse before she had a chance to set it down. Who was calling her business line in the evening? She unzipped her bag and grabbed the phone. It was an Atlanta area code, but she didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  “Am I speaking with Dahlia Dean, please?” a man’s voice inquired.

  For a brief second, she debated whether to confirm her name. She decided to go ahead. If the person had her number, chances are, they knew exactly who they were calling and were just being polite to ask. “This is she.”

  “Miss Dean, I’m Emmett Jones, M
ary’s attorney and estate manager. The reason I’m calling is because there’s going to be a memorial service for my client next week. Did you hear about it?”

  “I thought I saw on the news that the family wanted a private funeral and might have a memorial for her associates.”

  “Correct. I understand you’ve done Mary’s hair and makeup on multiple occasions. Do you think you can make it to the service?”

  “I... I can be there.”

  “Good. I’m still planning the seating. I need to know if you’re bringing someone with you.”

  Her mind traveled to Cy. “My assistant will be coming with me.”

  “And the name?”

  Cy gave her a funny look the last time she gave his full name. She gazed at the spines of the books on her shelf. One in particular stood out from the rest because it had gold letters. “Dan Ringgold.” She read the name of the author.

  “Thank you, Miss Dean. I’ll have the venue and time information sent to your office intern tomorrow morning.”

  Dahlia got off the phone, wondering what she would tell Cy or, rather, Dan Ringgold tomorrow about the memorial service he was going to attend with her next week.

  JUST AS SHE EXPECTED, Cy was not happy to hear the news. “You told Mary’s lawyer my name was Dan Ringgold?” He was incredulous as they rode the elevator to her office the next day.

  “It was the first name I saw on a book on my bookshelf. I couldn’t think of anything else on the spot.”

  “Do you want me to go to a memorial service under false pretenses?”

  She grimaced when he spelled it out. “Since you put it that way, it is pretty bad. I could call the attorney back and say I’m bringing another person with me instead.”

  Cy moved his head in the negative. “It’s a somber event. I don’t think it’s a good idea to bother her attorney with little details like that.”

  The elevator chimed to reach their floor. Dahlia waited for him to step out first, as usual, as a safety precaution. “I know why I hired you, but I don’t have any expectations.”