Page 3 of American Royalty

Dani grinned. She’d met her bodyguard, Antoine, when he’d been providing security for an event she attended. He’d impressed her with his top-notch skill and quiet confidence. Since celebrities were some of the most photographed people in the world, bodyguards were often caught in the frame and a lot of them started caring more about themselves and less about the people they were supposed to keep safe. But in the four years Antoine had worked for her, he hadn’t shown any tendency toward that inclination. He protected her person and her privacy.

Dani settled next to Antoine. “Hey, big man. What’s good?”

“You, lil’ ma,” he boomed in his deep voice. “Youwearingthat suit!”

Dani laughed and squeezed his shoulder as he maneuvered the small vehicle out of the hangar and along the parking lot, past tablesfilled with food, and the hair, makeup, production, and wardrobe trailers. With so many people milling around, it resembled a small town instead of a video shoot.

Dani braced an arm on the back of her seat and asked her assistant, “Did we hear from Estée Lauder?”

“Earlier today. They confirmed the meeting for next month. They just need to know if you’d prefer the New York or L.A. office,” Tasha called over her shoulder from her rear-facing vantage point.

Dani nodded, excitement fluttering in her belly. Make that the topfivecompanies.

“I just want the meeting. I don’t care where we do it. As Janet said, ‘Any time, any place,’” she sang.

“I’ll check your schedule and see where you’ll be then.” Tasha shook her head. “You really should sing more on your albums. You have a great voice.”

“Truth,” Antoine said, pulling up in front of Dani’s trailer.

If things went according to plan, there wouldn’t be any more albums. But she was keeping that information to herself.

“You both have to say that. I pay you,” Dani said, getting out of the cart.

She climbed the steps and entered her temporary home on set, the hardwood floors, dark cabinetry, and light granite surfaces screaming anonymous luxury. The bright smell of citrus essential oils was the only nod to personalization. She didn’t even allow her eyes a moment to adjust to the cool, darkened interior before she slipped off the gorgeous but torturous pumps and sank down on the leather couch, moaning as she massaged the pad of her right foot.

“Up. Up. Up!” Zoe appeared from behind the door that led to thebedroom, her expression molten with horror. “You do notloungein Alberta Ferretti!”

Dammit! Dani stood and quickly shed the suit, handing it to her stylist in exchange for a silk robe, which she wrapped around herself before sinking back onto the sofa. She patted her hair. “Can I take this wig off?”

“Sure. Miss K only spent an hour getting it to lay right and making your baby hairs look natural. I’m sure he won’t mind doing it again.”

So that was a no.

Dani frowned. “Your sarcasm isn’t attractive.”

“Says you.”

She leaned her head gingerly on the cushion. “Do you know how much time I have before the last scene?”

“They called and told us they needed you back on set in two hours,” Zoe said, zippering the pieces back into a garment bag and disappearing into the bedroom.

Which meant she had thirty minutes to relax. Maybe. She needed to contact Mela-Skin’s marketing director to discuss arranging a photo shoot for their new revitalizing face mist. She also wanted to scope out the feeds of her favorite beauty influencers, see what kind of products and posts were getting the most engagement. Which reminded her... She hadn’t checked her own social media accounts all day! She had sixty-four million Instagram followers who would be waiting to hear from her. She should go live and tease the upcoming video release, have Tasha post a few pics from the set.

The door opened and “speak of” bounded in.

“Do you have my phone?” Dani asked, not bothering to bleach the impatience from her tone.

Time was limited and her feet were still throbbing. The gladiator stilettos she was supposed to wear next wouldn’t help their condition at all. But she wouldn’t complain. She’d suck it up and perform her ass off.

Like she always did.

Instead of answering, Tasha responded, “It made the blogs.”

Dani’s head shot up so quickly she was relieved she didn’t give herself a concussion. Had news of her meetings leaked?

While there was an obvious bidding war strategy to everyone being aware of all parties involved, she didn’t want the companies to know she was playing them off one another this early in the game. Nothing could affect contract terms and concessions quicker than an executive’s hurt feelings at learning they weren’t “the only one.”

She’d learned that lesson the hard way on her first album.