Page 19 of Undeniably Unexpected (Boston’s Irresistible Billionaires #6)

I t took two hours to convince the studio to keep me on the film. Two. Hours.

My agent flew in last night, and between the two of us, we reassured them that we had everything under control. They discussed recasting, possibly having Tommy Hardgrave take on my role and me his, but I wouldn’t have it, and thankfully they backed down.

Still, it was a bloody lie that I had everything under control. But the moment I informed them I’d be on holiday with Keegan until shortly before filming, all was fine and calm. It was bonkers. I’d never seen anything like it.

Keegan’s name was like a soothing balm on everyone’s nerves, and I left the meeting with my job intact and a green light to be back in three weeks. I went home, grabbed all of our things, and got in the car that was waiting for us.

That said, Keegan is bloody brilliant. Or at least her security staff are.

Fen and I arrived at the airport after we were followed.

There was no doubt about that, as the moment we walked out of our flat at eleven thirty, we were already inundated.

Questions about who his mum is and where she is now and how long Keegan and I have been a couple and if Keegan is planning on adopting him and if we’re getting married and what this will mean for my next three movies.

It was madness.

My PR team released the statement this morning stating that I have a son from a previous relationship, that I will not discuss his mother at this time as it’s a private matter, that I am working with all governmental authorities as required, but that I love my son and he's my number one priority, and that I request privacy for us and for my relationship with Keegan Fritz.

It's all out there. Well, what we’re willing for them to know and think.

I can only imagine what Keegan’s family thinks of all this and me. It’s impossible not to have massive doubts that we’ll be able to pull this off.

I didn’t answer a thing, but when I arrived at the airport, I was led to a private terminal and then a private terminal after that.

The Fritz terminal is how it was described to me.

They have their own here. There were two security checkpoints that got us into that terminal, and there was the Fritz airplane.

A massive one at that. Something that appeared as though it could house the entire Fritz clan.

The back door to the large SUV opens, and the most stern, formidable elderly man I’ve ever met immediately greets me. He also has an English accent that should put me right at home, but doesn’t.

“Mr. Powell, I’m Morgan Fairchild, the Fritz family’s former chief of security. Miss Keegan rang me last night to ask that I see to this personally so there are no safety concerns for any of you.”

Bloody fuck, what is this?

“Erm, wow, thank you.” I climb out and unclasp Fen from the base of his car seat without taking him out of his carrier. “Has Keegan already arrived?”

“Yes, sir. She’s on the plane.” He walks with me, but I notice he nods to three men who I hadn’t originally seen behind us.

“We’re going to have you stop in Kansas City, followed by Dallas before you make the direct flight to Key West. Once the plane arrives there, you will be escorted to a boat that will lead you directly to the Key.

I’ve spoken with the housekeepers who tend to that property, and everything has been arranged for you, including items your son will require. ”

I blink at him and find myself stopping dead on a tarmac with the large jet looming in front of us.

“What does that mean?”

“It means everything from food to clothing to nappies to anything you hadn’t even considered will be waiting at the cottage.”

“And Keegan arranged all of this?”

“She did, sir.”

“Fuck.” I shake my head. I had plans to buy most of that stuff when we were down in Florida, but she beat me to it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to curse like that. I’m just overwhelmed, and she’s amazing. What part of England are you from?”

“Manchester, sir.” He pauses. “You should understand that I am eternally a willing servant of the Fritz family, and with that, you may be my countryman, but I make James Bond look like a movie star with a stunt double.”

“Um.”

“Do not get my girl hurt.”

“I won’t, sir. I promise.”

“Then we’re fine. I will be flying with you until Kansas City in the cockpit. Safe travels, Mr. Powell.”

He walks off, and I’m left here wondering what the actual fuck was that?

I decide not to overthink it. She is a Fritz, and I have no doubt he does make James Bond look like, well, me, I suppose.

He’s the real deal is what he’s saying, whereas I work out in a gym and train with stunt people and gurus.

He more than likely actually trained with the British Army and MI6 and is not to be fucked with.

Or more than that, don’t fuck with Keegan.

Don’t look at her too much. Don’t touch her. Don’t think about her. Don’t fantasize about her—again—too much. And no matter what, under no circumstances can I fuck her.

I won’t. I promised her that, and I held back when she came to LA.

This will be no different. While Keegan is incredible and beautiful and sexy and smart and has a heart bigger than I knew a human could have, my code doesn’t change.

She deserves better than that. Better than me.

I’m not sure I know how to love properly, and I have no plans to fall in love with her.

Not ever.

Not when love can be given and taken so swiftly.

Not when I have a son and a career to not only protect but put first.

Yet the moment I climb onto the waiting jet with Fen in his carrier and find Keegan in the back, her face cast down toward her phone and her red hair up in a messy ponytail that looks like she did it with one hand, something inside of me flinches.

It quite possibly threatens to challenge my hardline stance because, at this moment, with her hair looking this way, and how it brings an unwitting smile to my lips, I realize I like her.

In a way I shouldn’t. In a way that makes my heart beat faster and my lips tingle and my skin hum. In a way that reminds me I’m far too happy to see her again, and it’s not because she’s saving my arse.

Blimey. How inopportune is this?

I watch her for a moment, my world tilting on its axis, and I have no idea what to do.

I have a serious thing for my fake girlfriend, and never has a woman been more off-limits to me in my life.

She hears Fen make an impatient noise, and her head snaps up. A smile springs to her lips, and I think I might be in trouble with this hands-to-myself business because, wow, is she stunning. And the peek of cleavage she’s treating me to is damn near impossible not to ogle.

“I just won five thousand dollars on my casino game. Vacation paid for.”

A chuckle flies past my lips as I walk us over and take the seat across from her. “Is that so?”

“No. I was taught never to use a real name or put any of my financial information online. Welcome to being a Fritz.”

I nod toward where the car just dropped us. “I believe that after meeting Morgan Fairchild.”

“My grandpa saved his life, and he’s one of the few men I trust with mine without question.”

“Then I trust him as well.”

“You should. Did he tell you about our stops?”

“Yes.” I pull Fenric out of his chair and straight onto my lap. The lad is knackered and just sort of sits on me with his Curious George held against his chest and two fingers in his mouth.

“We’ve got a long day ahead of us.” She reaches into a large knapsack beside her. “Do you want something to read?” She pulls out three gossip magazines with my face on them, and I groan.

“No thanks.”

“Are you sure? Because this one promises I’ll learn everything there is to know about Loomis Powell’s secret past. This one is going to tell me all about Loomis Powell and his past lovers.”

I sigh. In my twenty-nine years, I’ve never had a girlfriend, and the world knows it.

It’s why they go so barmy whenever I’m seen with anyone.

For a while, it was Tinsley, but we dispelled that rumor when she got together with Stone and we stayed best friends.

Now I have a son who’s real and a girlfriend who’s not, and the world is ravenous for it.

The island sounds lovely and remote, but if the press can find us, they will.

They have no boundaries with that sort of thing.

“I can also learn eight things I should do with my tongue during oral sex,” she continues without skipping a beat. “And the last one will coach me on ways to tell my man how to give me the best orgasm ever.”

I freeze, instantly forgetting the rubbish about me she mentioned when I already know eight things she can do with her tongue during oral sex, and I’m one hundred percent positive I don’t need her to tell me how to give her the best orgasm ever because I could do it with my eyes closed, one hand tied behind my back, and without breaking a sweat.

I’d give it to her so good and so many times she’d never have to read another crap sex article again.

“I’m all set,” I murmur, my voice raspy.

Suddenly it’s hot in here, and my jumper feels like it’s strangling me. Maybe I should put my face in the soft pillows of her cleavage. That would likely help.

“Shame. I guess I’ll have to do all the reading then.”

“Let me know what it says about my secret past and all my lovers.”

“I plan to. Don’t you want to know what else I discover?”

Yes. Yes, I fucking want to know.

“Nah.” Change the subject, change the subject, change the bloody subject! I tilt my head. “I already know how to give you the best orgasm you’d ever have.”

She blushes to her roots, though there’s no hiding the mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “And my tongue?” she asks coyly, making me sputter. I did not expect my innocent little flower to retort like that.