Page 5 of Forced Proximity

I narrow my eyes. ‘Expect what?’

‘Expect you to be so pretty.’

Out of the corner of my eye, Anthony winces. I don’t respond. Do women actually fall for this crap? Is this shallow, lobbed comment about my looks supposed to be a compliment? This interaction confirms everything I already know: Justin is pompous, arrogant, and only has success because of strong abs, a square jawline and annoyingly perfect dimples. And because he’s actually really talented, although I’ll go to my grave before I’ll ever admit that to anyone.

Justin nudges his chin towards the live-edge buffet table overlooking the pool and sits. When I walk past him, my stomach clenches at the faint salty, citrus, masculine scent wafting from him. I hate to admit it but it’s kind of dreamy. And very distracting. Maybe I’ll make a rule that he can’t wear that scent around me.

‘I’m just here to go over the rules so you know what to expect.’ I pull out the chair across from him that must weigh fifty pounds and poise my pen over a notepad. ‘For the next three to six months, I’ll be here twelve hours a day, five days a week. In public, I’ll be a few feet from you. In your home, I’ll mostly position myself near your front door but will be in earshot. All visitors will be vetted by me and your outings prescheduled.’

A red stripe crawls from Justin’s neck to his earlobe. No matter what some may think, I’m not totally obtuse. I’m dropping a ton of information and it could be overwhelming. But I need to get it out of the way so there’s zero miscommunication as to who’s in charge when I’m working.

‘Prior to exiting the vehicle, I’ll conduct a soft evaluation of the perimeter. You’ll wait for me to open the door and we’ll always have a driver with us.’ I glance at the notes I don’t need. ‘You’re expected to listen to me if I detect an escalation and your safety is compromised. We cannot debate on this. My only job is to keep you alive. If I feel there’s a potential threat, we leave, no questions asked. You’ll need to trust me. Understood?’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Justin’s dark eyebrows fold into a fierce scowl. ‘Trust you? I don’t even know you. We met less than five minutes ago.’ Justin shifts his fury-filled expression to Anthony. ‘Am I the president? Secure the perimeter? Are you guys actually serious? This is ridiculous. Totally overzealous.’ He stands, pulls in a sharp breath, then softens his shoulders. ‘Listen, Doc. Thanks for coming, but there’s been some miscommunication. Anthony, please see her out.’

Whew. Thank you to my sweet, holy bodyguard gods for watching over me in my time of need.

‘Excellent.’ That chair might be the cushiest thing I’ve sat on in years but I leap from it like it’s burning my ass. ‘I can show myself out, thank you.’

Anthony’s chair screeches across the pale hardwood floors as he jumps up. ‘Doc, hold up. Please wait.’ He stands between me and Justin like a small, awkward referee. ‘Justin, there’s a reason we invited Doc here. I, ah, I don’t want you to worry, but we received some alarming letters—’

‘What are you talking about?’ Justin’s gaze flickers between Anthony and me.

God dammit. I remain stone-faced and silent with the notebook curled in my grip, but a low pinch tightens in my chest. This is why we tell clients everything. It’s not fair when they don’t know the truth.

Anthony inhales a shaky breath. ‘Some fan is, let’s say, overexcited and the studio’s frazzled. They’re investing a ton in your next film and there’s some concern this may shut down production.’

Justin’s eyes narrow. ‘Why would this shut down production?’

‘People are just being more cautious nowadays.’ Anthony shifts his weight from his left to right hip, looking everywhere from the espresso machine to the crystal fruit bowls, to the window overlooking the pool, but not Justin. ‘With so much polarization, fighting, politically we’re so divided … I think the studio is doing this out of an abundance of caution.’

Well, that’s certainly a way to spin this.

Justin flicks his gaze between me and Anthony. ‘Should I be worried? What are you not telling me?’

I fight the urge to pull my lips into my mouth – a dead giveaway that we’re hiding something – and keep my face as neutral as possible.

Anthony clears his throat. ‘No, I mean, nothing that you need to be concerned about. Not really, anyway.’

‘Then we don’t need her,’ Justin says like I’m not even here.

‘Yes, we do.’ Anthony’s tone is clipped and he firms his shoulders.

A long, tense moment passes. ‘This is bullshit,’ Justin finally says. ‘Talk to the studio.’

‘I did.’ Anthony frowns. ‘I’m sorry, man, but they’re not backing down.’

‘This is ridiculous.’ Justin drags his hands down his face. ‘You’re saying I need to be monitored? Pre-planned trips? Have her in my house?’

Can he not see that I’m literally standing right here? I silently exhale through my nose.

‘Justin, you’re already used to having people in your home,’ Anthony’s voice is calm. I wonder how many times he has to coddle this guy in a week. ‘Your housekeeper, staff, maintenance …’

‘People working in my home is one thing. But people just watching me? Twenty-four hours a day? That’s awkward as hell.’ Justin crosses his arms like a spoiled, defiant child. ‘I’m not doing it.’

‘Fine,’ Anthony says with a sharp tone. ‘Then I’ll let the studio know you’re dropping out of this project.’

Justin opens his mouth then snaps it shut. I don’t know Justin, at all, but I read people for a living. He’s pissed, obviously, but clearly weighing his options. Heavy sighs leave his chest as he tilts his head to me, then Anthony, then inhales sharply. When he glances back at me, fire blazes through hazel eyes. ‘I’ll do this. But you better make yourself invisible.’