Page 54

Tara held out her hand. “Give me your phone, Ella.”
Ella put her phone in the purse and handed it over. The driver paused, and Tara bounded out. Ella knew the plan. Two car lengths away, Tara was out first. When they pulled up, red-carpet staff would open her door. Tara would be in front of her, working the reporters and crowd. Bishop, who sat quietly next to her, would exit street side as she made her entrance, go deep around the back of the car, and trail her. Tara had her front from a PR point of view, and Bishop had eyes on her security. She was covered in all things.
Bishop shifted on the leather seats. “Ella?”
“Hmm?”
“You ready?”
“Always.”
“Take a deep breath and don’t give me the bullshit Tara answer.” He leaned close to her in the backseat. “Are you ready?”
She drew in a shaky breath and let her eyes sink closed. “I’m nervous.” The words she’d been repeating all day had been that she wasnotnervous. “But you’re with me, so it will be fine.”
His large hand took hers, and her eyes fluttered open. It was an unexpected touch. A personal one, unlike anything they’d had since she’d made a fool out of herself and kissed him the week before. “I’m with you, and it will be fine.” He squeezed her hand. “And you lookamazing—”
The door of the Escalade swung open, and there was the mouth of the red-carpet entrance. The loud calls of paparazzi filled the noisy air. The constant sound of people shouting names and camera lenses clicking were a rich cacophony that Ella had always thought didn’t blend well.
A hand reached in to help her out.
“This crowd is fine,” Bishop reassured her. “The press has been vetted, screened, and patted down. The fan section is fine.”
She swallowed away a note of unease, taking reassurance from his steady voice and the firm hand at her back.
“Go do your thing. I’m a few feet away.”
She smiled weakly, knowing a feeble grin like that would earn the wrath of Tara. “Thanks.”
“Hey, Ella.”
She turned slightly. “Hm?”
A head ducked in. “Ma’am?”
Bishop urged her on. “You’re safe.”
Surely, underneath his black jacket was enough ammo to start a coup, but for the moment, he looked like a large, overbearing, slightly out-of-place better half instead of a bodyguard.
“You look beautiful. Stunning. Relax.”
Her cheeks heated.
“Now you’re camera ready. Go.”
All part of the job. Nicely done. He winked.Holy wow.
“Ready?” Tara, her publicist, appeared out of nowhere, sticking her head in the Escalade. Dressed all in black with her publicist credentials hanging down, she gave Bishop a sideways glance. “Is there a problem?”
“No,” Ella said.
“Give me ten seconds to back away so you have a clean exit out of the car for photos.”
Ella inhaled slowly, letting it drift out. “Got it.”
Tara didn’t leave. “This will be a piece of cake. You owe thirty seconds to GreenTV and whateverE!wants. Deal?”
Another deep breath. “Of course.”