Page 25

chapter

twenty-four

Stella

D espite the intensity of Seven’s negotiations, I didn’t hear from him for the next four days. Then I woke up to a messenger at the door to my apartment with a fat, white box and two bags as well as a card in a heavy envelope. The card was from Seven and was short and to the point.

Red carpet premiere tonight, party to follow. Will exceed six hours. Deposit will clear your account thirty minutes before I pick you up. Be ready by three.

The neat, clipped strokes of the pen were hard, little slashes. If the way a word was written could convey the emotion beneath it, Seven had definitely mastered the technique. I almost didn’t want to see what he sent me to wear, but if he was going to pick me up at three, I would need to start getting ready.

The Portia Levinge Couture gown he sent was legitimately one of the sexiest and most irritating outfits I’d ever worn. First, it fit me like it had been painted on. The body sheath—supported by two thin spaghetti straps—was pure lace and utterly see through.

Lace panels framed the solid strapless black bra and t-backed panties. It literally meant my ass cheeks were going to be on display. As ready as I was to argue against wearing anything like it, I tried it on.

I looked… really good. That was without doing my hair or putting on shoes. The unsettling sensation had me vaguely ill. It took me a while to shake off the anxiety, but I was ready to go when Seven showed up.

To my shock, he had a driver with him and he was utterly attentive until we were in the car, then he ignored me all the way to the theater in Hollywood, where the red carpet premiere was going to be.

Press was everywhere, with lights flashing as the stars made the slow walk. “Normally,” Seven said as we inched along with the line of other cars dropping off their passengers, “I’d tell you to take one picture with me as we got out and another right at the carpet, then I’d let you go ahead while I paused for the quick questions and photo ops.”

Oh, I was going to throw up. There were way more people present than I’d expected even after seeing my share of these from the far side of those velvet ropes. I’d never been a fan of these meat walks. They were there to get attention for the movies and to give the news and stock sites some B-roll.

“That means just stay with me,” Seven continued. “I’ll keep a hand on you, and if I step away, just stay there, I’ll be right back. I don’t want you moving into the theater on your own. They’ll eat you alive.” That last part was muttered under his breath, and I got the feeling he wasn’t referring to the press.

I registered every single word while concentrating on even breaths, so I didn’t vomit on the spot. I’d rather face Dillon beating the crap out of me again than get out of this car and begin that walk.

This was a terrible idea. The worst. Did I really need the money that much? Fuck. Yes.

There was no more time to think of an escape plan. Seven pushed the door open and climbed out before turning to hold his hand out to me. Keeping a count of my breaths to try and silence the churning wheels of my thoughts, I clasped Seven’s hand.

Then we were standing together with his hand on my lower back as he turned us toward the roar of the fans and the paps alike. Cameras flashed, and the only thing that kept them from blinding me was the sun was still up—one nice thing about arriving in daytime. Course, it also meant I was squinting from the sun and trying not to frown as I kept my pace even with Seven’s.

“Well, well, look at the pretty little slut!” The voice was all Dillon and full of taunts. As much as I gave a little jerk when I heard it, I didn’t turn toward it.

Seven drew me closer when he paused to answer questions. It wasn’t until he squeezed my hip that I jerked my attention back to the reporter who looked at me expectantly.

“It’s a lot,” I admitted aloud. Her smile and nod said that it satisfied whatever question she’d asked. Then we were on to the next and the next. It had only been thirty minutes by the time we stepped into the lobby of the hotel.

“You all right?” he asked in a rough note with a frown, but Seven’s manager or agent—whatever—Jerry hurried over to intercept us.

“Stella. Give us a moment,” Jerry said to me as he drew Seven away. I hoped I managed to keep a neutral expression in place as people passed. I recognized more than a few of the actors who were here. Before I could get a good look, Seven was back and then we were heading into the theater.

There were little bags on each seat. Swag for those coming to the big premiere. We were seated in the middle with the director on the other side of Seven, along with more actors, family, significant others, and fans. Thankfully, someone bought us drinks and popcorn.

Mine was a sparkling water that Seven opened before he handed it to me. I’d never been so damn grateful to sip the cool, bubbly refreshment. Not that Seven gave me much of a chance to thank him. Then the movie was on and I spent the next two hours and ten minutes being utterly enthralled.

I’d never been a fan of testosterone-overdosed movies with stunts so outlandish it looked like they belonged more solidly in a cartoon than reality. On paper, that’s all Speed Wars had looked like, but the film was actually…

Not bad.

Humor peppered the script with sharp and witty dialogue. Seven played everything utterly deadpan, not even an ounce of a smile, but it gave him this growly gravitas that was compelling. More than once during the actual high-speed chases and car races, I was holding my breath.

In those scenes, it wasn’t Seven behind the wheel—it was Gem. The words from the other night tickled the back of my mind. He’d had to go and crash stuff on set. When there was a particularly brutal accident, I clasped Seven’s arm tightly. At some point, he covered my hand with his and then he was holding my hand.

I didn’t let up until Seven managed to climb out of the wreckage. Seven and Gem were both fine. When the movie ended with cheers, laughter, and applause, I was pretty blown away.

Then the lights came up, and there were people offering their congratulations. It took a while to weed through all of them, then we were back to the car.

“What did you think?” Seven asked as he loosened his tie. After, he pulled out more water from the cold storage in the back.

“Not really the train wreck I expected,” I admitted before taking a long drink of water.

He snorted. “You really don’t like my movies, do you, Stray?”

“I—”

His phone rang before I could finish the answer. He held up a hand to me before he answered, then spoke to whomever was on the phone for the rest of the drive. Or it was probably better described as him listening to whomever was on the phone while only giving one- or two-word responses.

Thirty minutes after leaving the theater, we pulled up to a ritzier location in the hills. Security at the gate kept most of the press and fans back. There were a select few photographers getting pictures of arrivals, but it was one or two and then people went right in.

Seven posed with me, one arm around me and a smile on his face. Hopefully my own grin held up and I didn’t look like I was being murdered. Then we were at the main doors and inside.

With a glance at his watch, Seven looked at me. “We’re leaving at ten fifteen. That’s in a little under two hours. Meet me right here.”

I blinked. “Are you serious?” He was just going to dump me here while he did…what?

“Yes. What are you going to do?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

“This is the job, Stray. Don’t get confused. We’re not on a real date.” Then he was striding off to follow the sound of other partygoers.

The last thing I wanted to do was go in there and mingle. The front doors were opening again, and I couldn’t really just sit here in the foyer without looking even more suspicious.

A party was in full swing in the huge ballroom, which was visible through the double doors under the main arch made by a pair of dual staircases that circled upward.

Music played. Glasses clinked. There were people dancing. More were laughing. Still more were slipping off to the sides for chats.

Once in the main ballroom, I acquired a glass of wine and downed it like it was a shot. Then I set the empty on another waiter’s tray while I stole another. I wound my way slowly through the room. There were canapés and little treats along with the free alcohol.

Seven’s costar in the film, Robert Duncan, greeted me easily and motioned me to join him as he took a quick photo with me. Thankfully, someone else wanted to talk to him, so I slipped away without saying a word.

Being on this side of the camera was terrible. I did a sweep of the room. If there was a corner table or something I could go sit at, then I could just drink and eat in peace. There was no solitude or serenity to be found down here. Not with a constant stream of new arrivals.

After finishing another canapé and snagging another drink, I made my way out of the ballroom. The place had appeared to be a large estate when we drove in. Ascending the stairs, I studied the architecture and the art. It gave a faintly French countryside palace or castle vibe. Everything was in cream or gold, and the art seemed even more opulent than the setting.

I wandered away from the music and the crowd. It was truly beautiful. I should have brought my camera. The way the light played in the halls and flickered from the wall sconces just offered so many perfect shadows to study.

There were doors that opened into new sitting rooms and other doors that were closed. The deeper I went, the more interesting the place became. There were large French glass doors that opened to a stone balcony, so I slipped out there.

The cool breeze was welcoming, as was the quiet. A hum from the vehicles arriving and departing drifted over the building, but it wasn’t super loud. As it was, I just enjoyed the view and the low stone wall.

This seemed more Venetian than French but I was not complaining. As much as I wanted to linger, I knew I probably shouldn’t hang out here. But when I tried to go back inside, the doors were locked.

I backed up to look along the building. The balcony actually stretched along it for several feet. Maybe there was another door.

There were two more sets of double doors. None of them were unlocked. I drained the wineglass, then flattened my hands on the top of the stone wall and looked over the edge. It wasn’t that far of a drop to the garden below. I could take the heels off, but I’d probably break an ankle if I landed on the hard stone. I headed for the other end. Maybe there was grass there?

No, but there was scaffolding that had been set against the building. They were replacing some of the siding apparently. Leaving the glass on the railing, I pulled off my shoes. With them stowed in one hand, I swung my legs over and made the short hop to the scaffolding.

It vibrated with my steps more than I liked, and the light was minimal under here. Took me a moment to find a ladder that let me climb down to the next level. There wasn't one to let me go from this midpoint to the ground.

“Fuck,” I swore.

“Snow?” The very last voice I expected to hear drifted out of the dark, followed by the man himself stepping under the draping to look up.

“Ollie?” Surprise and delight curved through me. The alcohol had definitely taken the edge off my nerves. Ollie’s presence blunted the irritation at my current predicament.

“At your service,” he said with a slow grin. “Have I mentioned how fucking fantastic you look right now?”

I glanced down at myself, then at him. Like Seven, he was also in a suit. “Were you at the premiere?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Sometimes I show up, do the perp walk, then head right out the back door.”

My mouth fell open. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” His grin was all mischievous charm. “Nobody really cares if we watch our own films. So why waste the time?”

“I get that…” Though guilt raked across my belly. “I didn’t see you in the movie.”

“That’s cause I wasn’t in it.” His grin widened.

“Oh.” Relieved, I shook my head. “So you went to the premiere for Seven?”

“Sure,” he said with a chuckle. “Let’s go with that. Now, you want to tell me what you’re doing up there?”

I sighed. “I got stuck on the balcony. I went out to look but the doors were all locked and no one else was up there. So then I saw this…” I waved to the scaffolding. “But apparently there’s no ladder down to the ground.”

“Probably put away to keep kids from getting into trouble.”

Oh. Yeah, that made sense.

“Come on, Snow,” he said, moving to be just below me. “Drop. I’ll catch you.”

It wasn’t that far, but still. I frowned.

“Trust me,” he practically crooned. “I won’t let you get hurt.”

I glanced at my shoes and then dropped them. He caught them easier than I expected and then set them aside.

“Good girl. Now come to Daddy.”

I made a face. “Ew. Don’t call yourself that.”

“Fine, I’ll let you call me that.” The blatant, bold-as-fuck come-on made me laugh.

“I am not calling you that, either.” Still, I was laughing as I eased out between the bars that served a rail on the scaffolding. I was going to have to dangle and then drop.

“It’s always an option if you change your mind,” he said from directly below me. “Also, I’m really loving the lingerie choice. That ass is far too nice to cover up.”

Shooting a look over my shoulder, I raised my eyebrows. “Stop staring at my ass.”

“Come on down and I promise I’ll stare at everything else with the same focus.”

The man was utterly incorrigible.

Utterly.

Blowing out a breath, I just trusted that I had enough alcohol to not tense up too much when I fell. That would help reduce broken bones, right?

“You can do it, Snow,” Ollie said. “Jump.”

I pushed away from the railing and let go. The fall seemed forever but also like it was over in a split second.

He caught me easily and I found myself chest to breast and his lips right there.

“Gotcha,” he whispered. Then he slanted his mouth over mine. His lips were cool, almost chilly, but they warmed as he teased my mouth open. The strokes of his tongue were firm and sweeping. The demand heating up the contact. He tasted like beer, nuts, and I could have sworn garlic bread.

My stomach growled as he deepened the kiss, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. It was my turn to chase his tongue. I savored every little delicious sample he gave me.

“Hungry?” he asked in between nipping kisses before he laved his tongue over my lower lip.

“Starving,” I whispered.

For a lot more than just garlic cheesy bread.

His eyes were hot when he leaned back a little to lock gazes with me. “How starving?” The layers beneath that question unfurled fresh waves of heat in my system. Ollie was so hard against me and his arms so tight that I could feel every inch of him, clothes or not.

I got the double entendre in the question. Got it, embraced it, and answered both parts. “Desperate.”

“I know you came with Seven,” he said in a rough voice. “But do you want to get out of here?”

It was that or climb Ollie right here and right now.

“Yes,” I said. I didn’t want to think about all the whys and why nots. “He got his pictures at the premiere and out front.”

“Yeah,” Ollie said slowly. “Cool. I know a quiet way out of here and I can have a driver scoop us up away from the press, then drop us at my car.” That was a lot of moving parts, but it sounded like a plan to me.

“Should we tell Seven?” I mean, he was paying me to be here, but if I left early, well, it would save him some money. That was just good business sense.

He dipped to grab my shoes without ever putting me down. “Fuck Sev,” he said, then we were striding through the garden and away from the house.

Okay, there was something sexy as hell about Ollie taking charge like this.

To be fair, I really was hungry for garlic cheesy bread and Ollie.