Chapter Three
Andreas
The first time Freddie Wentworth stepped back into my life, I was completely unprepared and I nearly lost my shit.
Like right on the spot.
In front of a room full of strangers.
Well, I knew Valentino and Norah.
The latter who grasped my arm. “Are you okay?” She whispered the question fiercely. “You look pale.”
I was normally pale, so for her to notice was something to stick a pin in. I drew in a deep breath. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Driving up from LA was a little crazy, you know. And then getting held up at the border? That would’ve terrified me.”
“I can understand that.” Hell, it probably should’ve terrified me, but I’d been so tired I hadn’t really cared.
The hotel in Seattle had been way too noisy.
Some year-end party or something. Which was super weird since we were in the last week of July.
Nary a holiday in sight. “I’m okay, Norah, truly. ”
Just gazing at the man I’d once thought my future and trying not to lose my ever-loving shit.
Suddenly he was moving my way along with the studio security-chief dude. Holstein? No, not a cow name. Hallsy? No, Hallstein. “Mr. Hallstein.”
“Just Hallstein. Mr. Bauer was my dad.”
Shit. Well, at least I didn’t call him by the cattle name. As a Nebraska farm boy, I damn well knew better. I plastered on a smile while specifically not looking at Freddie. Right, like that’s not weird either.
Before I could say anything, Norah extended her hand. “You must be Frederick. Andreas is so lucky to have someone so clearly competent.”
Freddie blinked. “Uh, it’s Freddie, ma’am.” He shot a glance at his boss.
Who merely shrugged.
Obviously Freddie didn’t know what high regard his boss held him in. Or hadn’t been aware that trust would be conveyed so forcefully in the meeting. Implied in all that was the Andreas, just don’t fuck this up.
As well, Norah’s bodyguard, Colette, had been introduced. She appeared to be just as no-nonsense as Freddie was coming across.
Freddie? Here? A bodyguard?
My bodyguard.
Yikes.
Norah turned to me. “So, early to bed and early to rise?”
“Costume fitting and then the table read. Yes, looking forward to it.”
She tapped my nose. “No partying tonight.”
“Hey.” She should know me better. I wasn’t a party animal.
But I enjoyed going out for a drink or two, and that was definitely my intention after the insane trip I’d just undertaken.
Three states in three days. Just thirteen hundred miles…
but I somehow managed to hit rush-hour traffic in every major city up and down the Pacific coast, which had turned a drive that the GPS had promised would be a mere nineteen hours into a three-day odyssey since I’d needed to stop at night.
I blinked. “No partying, Norah, I promise.” Finally, I cut a direct gaze Freddie’s way.
He regarded me impassively.
But I didn’t miss the flicker in his eye.
Or, later, how he stood by me as I was about to hop into my car.
That impassivity finally fractured when he saw my vehicle. “Did you bring everything you own?” Disbelief. Pure and simple.
“I find that to be a super-complicated question.” I gazed at him. We were only a couple of inches apart, so I wasn’t really looking down at him. His dark-brown, short hair shone in the sunlight. Sunglasses hid his always mesmerizing dark-brown eyes.
“I’ll follow you to the hotel. You can park in the garage. I’ll walk you up to your room.”
“Really? I might seem incapable of doing shit like that, based on my history, but I can manage to check myself into a hotel alone.”
“My job is to see you to your room, extract a promise you won’t leave, and then to pick you up from that room in the morning. I’m vaguely concerned about you leaving everything you own in your car. We’ll ensure you’re parked close to a security camera, and we’ll alert hotel security.”
“No one gives a shit if everything I own is taken—”
“So, it is everything you own. No wonder the border guard gave you such a hard time.”
“Well, you’ve got a nice country I’m not allowed to stay in.”
“Well, we have standards.” He cleared his throat.
Wow, that was nasty.
“And rules. You know what those are, right?”
Marginally less bitchy.
"You don't know what I've been through." I put my hands on my hips. "You think I've just had it good?"
“I don’t know…you looked pretty happy in those videos.”
Because of course you had to go there. One lapse of judgement.
Except it hadn’t been one. Omar had been the second big one.
Freddie had been the first.
“Whatever. Follow me.” He hit the remote, and the lights of a nice SUV illuminated. A newer model, no less.
I eyed my car. I hadn’t been entirely honest with Jeremy.
I’d said something about paparazzi and bushes.
Which was true. The truth also happened to be that I couldn’t afford to pay rent on a place where I wasn’t living.
I had debts. This movie would pay off a bunch of them, and the studio was covering the cost of my hotel.
So win-win. What I’d do at the end of filming was truly beyond me.
Another problem for another day.
I hopped into my car and followed Freddie out of the studio lot, to the main road, down a massive hill, and onto a main road. Soon, we pulled into a nice chain hotel. Not high-end, but not a dump either. I was incredibly grateful they’d picked something so nice.
By the time I’d parked in the underground lot—in the spot Freddie directed me to—I was marginally less ticked off.
I could tell myself he didn’t have the right to judge me—but he kind of did.
Not just for the video—which was bad enough—but also for the way I’d treated him. Without respect, dignity, or kindness.
Even now, shame could swamp me and heat my cheeks.
Freddie grabbed two of the three suitcases I removed from my car.
“Hey, I can carry those.”
He extended the handles and began rolling them. “It’s fine.”
“I’m worried about your nice suit.” Not a throwaway line—he looked damn good. Nice-cut suit. Perfect hair. “Hey, do you carry a gun?”
He met my gaze and arched an eyebrow. “I’m not that kind of bodyguard. Although I do have a permit, and Hallstein would issue me one if the situation warranted it.”
“I don’t warrant a gun?”
“There hasn’t been a credible threat against you. This is Canada. We don’t all go around toting firearms.”
He had a point.
We got into the elevator that quickly whisked us to the lobby.
I headed to the check-in desk.
Within five minutes, I had two keycards and directions to my room.
Freddie snagged one and, before I could protest, headed toward the elevator.
I scurried to follow. “Are we in a hurry?”
“The sooner I get you to your room and secure, the sooner I can head home.”
“You’ve got someone waiting? I wasn’t certain why that stung, but it did.
What, you thought he waited seven years for you?
That he just sat around mooning and awaiting your return?
Hell, you didn’t even know where he was.
And chances are, he didn’t know where you were either.
I’d done a few small parts in significant movies and a significant role in a dud movie, but I certainly wasn’t a household name.
I might eventually be…although perhaps not for the right reasons.
We got into the elevator, and it whisked us to my floor. “Well, you might as well take this back down—”
“You can’t handle three suitcases on your own.” He pushed out the opening, still dragging my two wheeled cases. “Let’s go.”
And off he went.
Leaving me to follow in his wake.
Like always.
Still, I did as bade and followed him into the room he’d keyed open.
I stood still as he did a sweep of the room.
“Seriously?”
He pulled the drapes back.
While he checked the bathroom, I moved to the window. “What’s my view of?”
“That’s downtown Vancouver.” He joined me and pointed. “That’s Stanley Park—one of the biggest urban parks in North America.”
“And that bridge?”
“The Lion’s Gate Bridge. You probably came over it. Or maybe not.” He frowned.
“I wasn’t really paying attention. I was following the instructions.”
“Your car has GPS? That’s a relief.”
“My phone has GPS.” I frowned. “Although I admit to just driving up the 5 all the way from LA to the border. That was a nice, easy trip.”
“While you were checking in, I gave security the heads-up about your stuff in your car. Hopefully you’re insured.”
“For the car? Yeah. For my stuff? Probably not. I swear there’s nothing worth stealing.”
He eyed me with that too-knowing look. “What happened, Andreas?”
“Nothing worth worrying about.” I shrugged. “You’ve done your duty.”
He continued to stare at me.
“Well, how about you? Since we’re reminiscing. How do you go from a Brit lit major at Stanford to a bodyguard in Vancouver, Canada?”
“I’m Canadian.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m from Vancouver.”
“Uh-huh.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I dropped out of the university and came back to Canada. I studied to be a personal trainer and have been doing that.” He scratched his nose. “While pursuing higher education in a different field of study.”
I cocked my head.
“I did my undergrad and Master’s degrees in Canadian literature. I’m currently a part-time PhD student.”
“Uh…can you repeat that?” He’d been an English Lit undergrad. Now, seven years later, he was studying for his PhD?
“I was a personal trainer part-time while I did an undergraduate and graduate degree in literature. I’ve narrowed my focus to Canadian post-modern lit and am doing a PhD part-time.”
“And you’re a bodyguard.”
“Well, this is a newer gig. I sort of got tired of being a personal trainer.”
Sort of got tired of… What the hell did that mean? What did any of it mean?
“You’re going to stay in the room until I come and get you in the morning. If you need ice, get it now. You have a fridge, freezer, and microwave. Order food from the kitchen and only open the door for waitstaff. We clear?”
I frowned. “This is ridiculous.” Even as I marveled at all he’d accomplished. If I hadn’t dumped him, he never would’ve achieved such greatness.
And I likely wouldn’t have sunk to such lows.
But I couldn’t go back into time. “I know how to behave. Omar is a distant memory.” Because that was what this was really about—the sex tape.
"I'm sure you get over your exes quickly." He glared. "You’ll soon forget about the tape."
Damn him for knowing me so well. About getting over my unimportant exes, anyway. Forgetting the tape was a whole other matter. Still, apparently seven years hadn’t dulled his memory.
Then he continued. "I'm sure another boyfriend will come soon."
“I don’t want another boyfriend. And besides, if your boyfriend taped you and then released it to the public, would you get over it quickly?” He was really pissing me off.
“I would've never been in that position.”
“Oh God, right. Because you’re perfect.” I let out an exasperated sigh.
“Never perfect. No one wants perfection. They think they do…but they don’t. Being with someone who shines so bright that everyone else fades into the background? That’s not happiness.” He straightened. “I have to go. Stay put.”
With that, he was gone.
And I was alone with my thoughts and no way out of this quagmire. Seeing him every day was going to be torture. No two ways about it.