Page 2 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

What? I had no idea. I drunkenly struck Baxter’s signature pose for one of my favorite entertainment rags, then moved to my date’s side when a new round of lights flashed. I hoped she was okay with the attention, ’cause her face was going to be plastered on every social media platform known to mankind within the hour.

“Hey, there. Having fun?”

She beamed at me, linking her arm through mine. “Yes, love. It’s simply marvelous.”

Love?

Uh-oh, was she drunk too? Note to self: no more tequila.

If I didn’t think there were a few dozen people reading our lips, I would have asked her name. I was pretty sure we’d never met, but no one would know that from the way she was gazing at me. Yep, she was probably an actress or a model. She knew her angles, that was for sure. And she undoubtedly knew that having her name associated with mine would throw some limelight her way.

But just in case…

“If you stand too close to me, they’re gonna ask you when we’re getting married,” I singsonged, smiling as I escorted her inside the banquet hall.

“June. I’ve always wanted a June wedding,” she replied decisively.

I barked a laugh. “Sounds good. Let’s do this.”

Do what, you ask?

Believe it or not, I was nominated for Best Actor in a Drama at the Golden Globes for the second consecutive year. I knew I wouldn’t win. Action-adventure flicks didn’t typically do well at hoity-toity award ceremonies, but as I said, the sponsors needed me here more than anyone. And I couldn’t pass up the chance to schmooze with some well-connected movers and shakers, even though my allegiance was firmly with Rourke Studios.

I owed Sebastian Rourke a debt I could never repay. Baxter was the role of a lifetime, and I knew most actors never came close to sniffing an opportunity like it. But if Seb had taught me anything, it was that you had to look out for Number One in this town. I had no idea how long he planned to keep the Baxter franchise going. Indefinitely, I hoped. If that wasn’t the case, it was smart to play the game and act as though I were in awe of some of these schmucks before sitting next to my date at our table with Seb, his husband, Trent, and the Rourke Studios team.

As expected, the ceremony was a tad dull.

Don’t get me wrong. I loved the casual ambience of clinking china and muted conversation while bejeweled emcees gave canned speeches and told jokes they couldn’t get away with at the Academy Awards. But it was the same spiel as usual. At least the food was good, and the drinks were plentiful.

I tipped back my third glass of champagne and happily accepted my fourth, leaning aside so the extremely hot waiter could hand over a flute to my date without spilling. Christ, he was fucking gorgeous. Blond hair, blue eyes, dimples…sold.

My gaze was locked on his ass when he bent to retrieve the empty glasses. He straightened and caught my stare, then flashed a lopsided sexy grin.

“Can I get you something else, Mr. Allen?”

I opened my mouth to say fuck knows what just as Sebastian spoke up.

“Thank you. We’re all set here.”

“Yes, sir. Let me know if you need anything.” Mr. Hottie nodded at my boss but stole one more lingering sex-charged glance my way before moving on.

Yeah, I craned my neck like a cartoon character to get another peek at the perfect round globes in those snug trousers. I couldn’t help myself. The dude was smokin’ hot, and I was…tipsy.

Nope. Drunk. Definitely drunk.

Was it me, or was it hot in here?

Trent kicked me under the table and inclined his chin meaningfully. “Daphne was just telling me about a recent episode on her podcast. What was it again— ‘The Demise of Femme Fatales in Film’?”

“That’s right,” Daphne replied. “Girls need stories about strong female role models who can take care of themselves. I couldn’t believe the response. I mean, Sebastian Rourke contacted us about using our material for a miniseries and suddenly, I’m here, at the Golden Globes…with Pierce Allen, no less.”

I set my hand over hers impulsively and squeezed. “And don’t forget we’re getting married, too.”

Her answering toothy smile was so bright it almost blinded me. “In June.”

“Oh, yeah?” Trent narrowed his gaze, his lips curled at the corners in amusement. “For some reason, I thought you’d just met.”

“When you know, you know,” I slurred, waggling my brows.