Dropping The Ball: A New Year’s Billionaire Romance

by Weston Parker

  “I’ve spoken to my manager,” the security guy on the other end of the line said when he came back. “We can trace you from the moment you entered our premises until you exited. There’s about eight hours in all. We can provide the video of you, but we can’t release the footage tracing Ms. Mackey without her consent.”

  “The footage of me is perfect. That’s all I need.” Some of the tension that had been making my muscles feel as wound up as balls of wool eased. “Can you make copies of it for me? I’ll come by to pick it up when you’re ready.”

  “Sure thing,” the guy agreed. “The footage is covered in the agreement your firm had with us, so it shouldn’t be a problem for us to provide you with copies of the video of yourself.”

  After he assured me he’d have it done for me before the end of his shift, we hung up. When I pulled the phone away from my ear, I saw a message from Bart summoning me to his office.

  What the hell now? I shoved both hands through my hair and hung my head before standing up. If this meeting was about fucking Miranda Mackey again, I was going to put my fist through his wall.

  Bart grinned when I walked in and sat down on the chair across from his without waiting for him to invite me to do it. His flaming-red hair was styled today, which meant he’d met with a new client.

  “You’re wearing one of your good suits,” I commented while hooking my ankle over my knee. “Who’d you sign?”

  His bright green eyes crinkled at the corners as he motioned at his torso. “I’m always wearing one of my good suits, asshole. I did sign a new client for us, though. A Broadway star.”

  “Broadway has stars?” I scratched my chin. “Actually, I did know that. My mom dragged me to a show a while ago when they visited.”

  “Bravo.” He rolled his chair back and folded his hands over his stomach. “I’m glad you’ve been because you’re going to be guarding our new star starting next week. It’ll help if it’s not your first time stepping foot inside someplace cultured.”

  “I’ve been to plenty of cultured places.”

  He laughed. “You mean your mom took you to see a show, and that girl you used to date took you to a poetry reading, don’t you?”

  I shrugged. “I went to the show and to the reading, didn’t I? Why does this actor need a guard?”

  “Actress,” he corrected me. “She’s going to be making a comeback to Broadway on New Year’s. No one knows yet. It’s all very confidential.”

  “Actress?” I blew out a heavy breath and scrubbed my hands down my cheeks. “Fuck. I was really hoping you were putting me on a guy this time around. I hate guarding women. They’re all the same.”

  “You’re going to have to get over it,” he said. “I can’t have you walking into this job with an attitude like that. I need your sparkling personality back.”

  “I don’t have a sparkling personality.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Are you sure you can’t put someone else on this? I’m not convinced I’m the best person for the job.”

  “You are the best person for the job because you’re the guy I trust the most,” he said. “There have been some serious threats made on this woman’s life. If we can keep her safe, it might be a way for us to break into the Broadway crowd. A new industry means more clients. More clients mean more money, and more money makes us all very happy. Especially at this time of year.”

  “You still want to go on that cruise in January, don’t you?”

  He smirked. “I don’t just want to go. I am going. I’d invite you, but I know Mama Demming won’t allow it since it falls in their annual visit time.”

  “Damn straight she won’t.” I turned over the prospect of having to guard some diva starlet for the next month. “There’s no way out of this for me, is there?”

  “Nope. Not unless you’ve got a conflict I don’t know about.” He reached for a stack of papers lying in his printer and picked them up, placing them into an open, empty folder on his desk. “I promised her people my best guy, and like I said, that’s you.”

  Bart had been my boss for almost a decade and my best friend for most of that time. I knew every expression in the guy’s arsenal, and I could tell he was serious about this. Whether I liked it or not, I was going to be stuck with this diva for the next month—at least.

  “Is the job only until she makes her comeback?” I asked, resigning myself to the fact that this was going to happen.

  He sat back, seeming relieved that I wasn’t going to argue with him about it. He ran a hand through his hair and released a slow breath. “I don’t know. The threats she’s received have all been to get her back onstage, but you never know how this is going to play out.”

  “So we’re playing it by ear,” I concluded before realizing something. “Wait, if this is a comeback, she’s not some young diva starlet, is she?”

  Please be an eccentric eighty-year-old who’s going to see me as her grandson and try teaching me poker. At least that way, I wouldn’t have to ring in the New Year by filling out more paperwork after another bogus complaint.

  Bart shook his head. “I’ve never met her, so I don’t know if she’s a diva, but her team certainly seems to respect her. She’s in her mid-twenties. Apparently, she hit it big a few years ago but she had to take a break for personal reasons.”

  “That’s her file?” I inclined my head at the folder he’d just prepared.

  He pushed it across the desk to me. “Yep. You know the drill. Familiarize yourself with her, let me know if your spidey senses tingle over anything in there, and let’s put this bullshit with Mackey behind us.”

  “Who is this chick anyway?” I asked as I picked up the file containing the information on the next person I had to babysit. Ahem. I mean guard.

  A glint came into his eye and he cleared his throat before he started belting out a song I’d never heard before—or tried to belt it out anyway.

  I stuck my fingers in my ears and pleaded with him to stop. “Don’t quit your day job, buddy. That was terrible.”

  He pressed a hand to his chest and pretended to be offended. “I think I was born to be in musicals.”

  He said it in a very poor Southern drawl, then chuckled before flicking a finger at the file. “Everything about her is in there. Unlike me, she was actually born to be in musicals. She’s got the voice of an angel and the face of a fucking supermodel. It’s easy to see why people are so obsessed with her that they’d threaten to kill her if she doesn’t get back onstage.”

  “Really?” I tilted my head. “It’s easy to see why people would want to kill her?”

  “I’m just calling it like I see it. She’s got something of a cult following, it seems. They want her back.” He pointed at me. “Do whatever you have to do to keep her safe, Carter. She’s had some pretty scary things happen to her, and according to her team, she’s taken everything in stride. If she’s finally agreed to let them put someone on her, it’s because she’s taking this seriously. We have to do the same.”

  I saluted him before standing up. “You know I’ll do my job to the best of my ability. Let me go check her out. I’ll let you know if I have any questions.”

  When I got back to my house, I went to make a cup of coffee before I settled in behind my desk to do my research. I nearly spat out my first sip when I saw the name and picture of the client I was going to be looking after for the next month.

  Holy. Shit. It’s Rylee. My Rylee. Well, not mine but my best friend’s little sister. Wow. Yeah. I’m definitely taking this job now.

  Fate had to be at work here. I just didn’t quite know what it was playing at yet. What I did know was that if people were really making death threats against Rylee Naples, there was nothing I wouldn’t do in order to keep her safe.

  I’d have to go out to buy pants with more space in the crotch so I wouldn’t be fucking uncomfortable all the time, but Bart was right. This was serious.

  Well, there goes it being a once-in-a-decade experience.

  Chapter 6

&nb
sp; RYLEE

  Almost exactly two years ago to the day, I’d given my last interview. At the time, I’d thought it would be my last one ever.

  It had been only a couple of weeks after the fall, and mere days after my diagnosis. I’d barely ever heard of MS before that. I couldn’t even remember if I’d realized it was a real disease until the day the doctors told me I had it.

  It’d been a terrifying, confusing time. All I recalled knowing for a fact was that my life as I’d known it was over. Leaving the reporters behind was about the only part of it I hadn’t minded that much.

  Little had I known that two short years later, I’d be sitting across from the jerk from the New York Times, ready to give my next first interview. Nathan had been driving Jules crazy with interview requests, and he’d eventually contacted me while I’d been in Conroe for Thanksgiving to ask if he could set it up.

  I knew that the media was a necessary part of my comeback. I’d just been hoping for a softer re-entry than being grilled by Nathan Biles. On the other hand, if I could still handle Nathan, I’d be able to handle everyone else.

  Maybe it’s a good thing he’s first. Not that it felt like it when he walked into the hotel business center where the interview was taking place.

  A slimy grin was plastered on his face when he slid into the seat across from me. Jules was around here somewhere, but I really wished he didn’t have to hang around in the background. It would’ve been very freaking nice to have him sitting right next me, but unfortunately, my big-girl panties and I had to get through this by ourselves.

  Nathan uncapped a pen and opened his old-school spiral notebook. If I hadn’t known him, I would’ve loved that he still took notes with a pen and paper. I did know him, though. Which meant I also knew that he wasn’t going to record the interview on any device because then there was no evidence if and when he hit on me.

  “You’re a difficult girl to get ahold of, Ryles.” He tapped his pen on the table and narrowed his eyes at me. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought you were avoiding me.”

  “Rylee is fine.” Nathan always tried to establish this feeling of overfamiliarity. It’d always weirded me out. “I’m not avoiding anyone. I’m simply a little unclear about why you’d like to speak to me. We thought you might’ve sent your interview requests to the wrong person by accident.”

  Yeah, right. All two dozen of them. Jules had been very clear, though. I wasn’t to make any snide remarks, admit anything, or give Nathan any reason whatsoever to dig into my life. I’m one hundred percent onboard with that plan.

  The snide-remark thing would be a bit of a challenge, though. Nathan really brought out the worst in me.

  His eyes narrowed even further, leaving behind only slits. “It wasn’t an accident. I didn’t make the requests to the wrong person.”

  I smoothed out the sleeves of my linen jacket and folded my hands on the table. “In that case, I’m not sure what I can help you with, but here we are.”

  “Here we are.” The hostility suddenly vanished from his face, leaving that horrible predatory expression clear as day in the way he looked at me. “The city is buzzing with news of your comeback.”

  “My comeback?” My voice was steady, which was a definite win. “What comeback?”

  “Word on the street is that you’re coming back and will play Elphaba Thropp in the new run of Wicked that’s starting just after the new year.”

  “Is that so?” I twisted the thin silver necklace that hung all the way to my stomach between my fingers, my hands still on the table. “How interesting. Elphaba Thropp. That’s the Wicked Witch, right?”

  “It is. I’m not surprised you’re familiar with the role, given that I hear you’ve been working at it for months.” He poised with his pen ready to take down my answer.

  I shrugged. “Every fan of Broadway is familiar with the role, I’m sure. The Wizard of Oz is one of my personal favorites, and Wicked is a fantastic musical.”

  “Is that why you agreed to play the role after all this time? Some people were convinced you’d retired for good.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I was just very stressed at the time and I needed a break. I haven’t retired.”

  “You also haven’t answered my questions about whether the rumors are true or not,” he pointed out. “There’s news that you might do a New Year’s performance when the ball drops. That true?”

  My jaw nearly dropped open on that one. The New Year’s performance was supposed to be a big surprise. How on earth does this asshat know about it?

  “A performance when the ball drops? That’s a wonderful idea.” I was trying to skirt around the issue, but Nathan looked at me like he knew exactly what I was doing.

  No matter. We’d only agreed to a sit-down for fifteen minutes. Just keep treating him like a mushroom. Keep him in the dark and feed him shit for eight more minutes.

  I could definitely do that.

  “I’m sure people would really enjoy a special New Year’s performance,” I said. “Especially if it’s live. I don’t know where you heard all these rumors, but I heard one as well. Apparently, one of the alternative rock bands from the nineties is making a comeback that night.”

  “Really?” He gave me a long look before setting his pen down. “Who might this band be?”

  “I have no idea.” I lifted my hands and crossed my fingers. “I definitely know who I hope it’ll be, but I don’t want to jinx it by telling you.”

  “It’s not a birthday wish,” he said irritably. “Stop trying to play games with me, Ryles. You won’t like it if I start playing too.”

  A shudder ran down my spine at the gleam in his eyes. It was pure malice, and I had a feeling he was right. I wouldn’t like it if he started playing too.

  I wasn’t about to let him intimidate me, though. Firmly holding his gaze, I lifted my chin and sat back in my chair. “Did you have any further questions for me, or are we done here?”

  “We’re not done.” He tossed his pen down on the notebook and smirked, his hand snaking across the table toward me. Jules got up from the table he was sitting at, but Nathan saw him and waved him away before turning back to me. “You haven’t answered any of my questions.”

  “I think you’ll find I’ve provided an answer for everything you’ve asked me.” I kept my eyes on his. “Our time is nearly over. Was there anything else?”

  “When are you going to drop the act and agree to go out with me?” he asked, changing tack so fast it made my head spin.

  Underneath the table, I felt his legs wind around mine. I tucked my feet under my chair immediately, scooting back a bit so I was out of his reach.

  “Do you really think your readers would be interested in knowing the answer to that?” I asked.

  He scowled at me before his features morphed into a strangely cold smile. “That question was off the record. You and I are going to happen, Rylee. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Let me make this perfectly clear to you.” I sat up straighter and pulled my shoulders back. “I’m not interested in you like that, Nathan. You and I are never going to happen. This is supposed to be an interview. Let’s keep it professional, shall we?”

  “It’s in your best interest to become interested,” he said, his face growing a strange and unnatural shade of something between purple and puce. He leaned forward farther, almost halfway across the table by now. “I’m getting tired of you pretending that you don’t want me just so I’ll chase you.”

  “That’s not what’s going on here at all.” I pushed my chair back and stood up but kept my voice down and my tone cordial. “It’s clear that you have no more questions for me. This interview is over. Goodbye, Nathan.”

  He was practically vibrating with rage, his skin now mottled and his features twisted into a sneer. “Watch your back, Rylee Naples. You’ve been playing with fire and you don’t even seem to realize it. Everyone who plays with fire gets burned sooner or later.�
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  The words, delivered with the expression he was wearing, struck a healthy dose of fear into my heart. I didn’t let it show, though. I would never let him know how much this conversation had confused and rattled me.

  Without saying another word or sparing him another look, I turned and walked away. Jules fell into step beside me just as I was nearing the door. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded. “I’ll fill you in on the way to our next meeting, but that was really weird. What did that security company you spoke to say?”

  “They’ve got someone available for you next week. I’ve sent you their contact details in case you wanted to discuss the qualities you’d like in a guard with them directly.”

  Rummaging around in my purse for my phone without breaking stride, I let the door slam shut behind us and made the call I needed to make. After that encounter, I wasn’t willing to wait until next week before I got someone to watch my back—as Nathan had threatened.

  Nathan hadn’t seemed like he was kidding, nor had he been particularly vague or ambiguous in his threats. I needed someone with me until I could figure out what his game was—and I needed that person like yesterday.

  Jules frowned when he heard me explaining who I was to the receptionist at the security company, his gaze trailing back over our shoulders. I knew he was wondering what’d happened with Nathan to have prompted my behavior, but it also made me feel better knowing he was checking to make sure we weren’t being followed.

  A pleasant-sounding man named Bart came onto the line. I introduced myself before getting right to the point. “I know we initially asked for someone to start next week, but if it’s possible at all, I’d like to move up the timeline.”

  “We can do that. Come in tomorrow. We’ve got the perfect guy for you.”

  I exhaled a relieved sigh. I’d been worried they wouldn’t have anyone available on such short notice, but Bart didn’t skip a beat. The change of plans didn’t sound like it affected him at all.

  I hung up the phone after agreeing to a meeting at their offices less than twenty-four hours from now.