CHAPTER THREE #3
“Amen!” I pulled the phone out of my hoodie pocket and slid it across the breakfast table. “Could you, eh…do the honours?” I asked sheepishly.
Jack picked up the device, and pressed the button on the side to turn it on.
It shuddered to life in his hand and I leaned across to press my fingertip to the biometric reader on the back.
Within a minute the expected gunfire of notifications sounded and I winced.
Jack jumped in his seat with the shock of it.
“Fuuuck!” he exclaimed, then with a few flicks of his finger against the screen he said,
“Oh-kay, one thing’s for certain, you’ve got a lot of people worried about you, babe.” I knew he was right. I was grateful to have a small band of wonderful friends and family. It also hadn’t escaped my notice that he’d called me babe a few times, and I kinda liked it.
“Is there eh…anything from Erik?”
Jack scrolled the calls and messages then frowned and shook his head. Shit. Insistent knocking on the suite door made our gazes collide and hold for longer than strictly necessary.
“The jig is up my friend!” Jack said as he passed the phone back to me, stood, and sauntered through the lounge.
It wasn’t my imagination. There was definitely heat in the moment we’d just shared.
Hungrily, I watched Jack walk away, appreciating how the loose fabric of the wide-legged trousers draped over the globes of his stunning ass, his hips swaying gracefully with each step.
From where I sat, I could see through to the lounge and hallway as Jack opened the hotel room door.
I couldn’t miss the nasal screech from my agent.
Jack held up a calming hand and succinctly he said,
“Good morning Roz. No, there is no need to call security to break down Nate’s door. He’s fine; we’re having breakfast on my balcony.” At that, Roz barged in, followed by Benji.
“Um, come in?” Jack said deadpan.
My agent marched through the lounge and began berating me, “Don’t you dare scare me like that again, Nate Linden. I was so worried. Is your phone on the fritz? I called you so many times…I’d thought you’d self-harmed or something after—”
My hackles rose and I clenched my jaw, pissed-off that Roz could even think I was so emotionally fragile that I’d self-harm because I’d been betrayed by that spineless asshole…what the fuck? I thought she knew me better than that!
“I switch my phone off last night and forgot to put it back on, sorry,” I placated calmly, but I wasn’t sorry at all.
“We’ve got a busy day, the just tuxedos arrived,” Roz informed before Jack’s press agent Benji chipped in.
“The team from Vogue will be here at eleven to set up in the ballroom,” he drawled.
“Who’s the photographer?” I asked.
“Some bloke called Max Erdmann,” Benji shrugged while scrolling on his phone. “Never heard of him,” he added, sounding bored.
“What? Dude, he’s not just some bloke, Erdmann’s an award-winning fashion photographer, I love his work,” I gasped in surprise. The fact Erdmann was photographing us was amazing as he was known to be very selective about his gigs.
“Did you hear? We’ve got the cover and a center spread of the September European edition,” Jack called to me. This day was getting better and better! I rose and walked into the lounge to join the others. Roz then added,
“I got the fitness center closed to other residents from nine am to ten for exclusive use by our team. I booked the wellness center for ten-thirty, so you’ll both have a full-body massage. We’ll go down to the ballroom for the Vogue shoot at twelve and leave for the première at six.”
Benji glanced up from his phone, “The venue’s a ten-minute car journey from the hotel. Limo’s booked. Oh, and by the way, De Luca’s just told me that Johnny, Portia, Gregor, and Padme arrived earlier.”
Johnny, Portia, Gregor, and Padme were actors from the movie.
I was secretly glad there would be other co-stars to take the spotlight from me.
I’d done this dance so many times before, but then I’d had Erik on my arm to calm my anxiety.
Erik was gregarious and loved to party. He had the charisma to work a room effortlessly at events and charity galas. Without him I felt…rudderless, adrift.
“Enough now! Out, out the lot of you! Go to your own rooms, I want some privacy,” Jack said, shooing the entourage out the door. Roz pointed a witchy finger at me and said,
“Keep your damn phone on. I’m already stressed enough with…everything, I don’t need my client to be incommunicado again.”
When they’d all gone, I felt a welcome hand squeezed my shoulder. “Wanna hit the gym?” Jack asked softly, pulling me from a daze. “I feel like I’ve been sitting on my arse for far too long. It’s either an hour at the gym or I’m booking in for a Brazilian butt lift,” he joked.
Jack’s sense of humour caught me unawares again and I barked out a laugh.
Jack’s upbringing was completely different from my American high school education.
He’d trained at the Royal School of Ballet from eleven to seventeen before he decided he wanted to be an actor.
He’d then attended the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, where a lot of iconic British actors studied.
And so, Jack Boyd had developed a sinfully hot dancer’s body, sculpted arms and chest, strong thighs, and a shapely, muscular… biteable ass.
“We wouldn’t want your perfect ass turning to fat,” I said drolly.
“You think I’ve got a perfect ass?” Jack asked sounding surprised. As our eyes met a flash of heat ran through me.
“Duh!” I said goofily. “I guess seeing you in shorts could take my mind off my car crash life for a while.”
“Well, never let it be said that I’m not benevolent. I do what I can to help the needy!” he replied dryly, and then we both laughed.
Jack vanished into his bathroom and I scrolled through the messages on my phone to see several were from my mom, Martha, and my sister Beth.
I’d need to take a moment to reply, just to reassure them I was okay.
Erik had an eclectic circle of ultra-wealthy friends, Russian oligarchs, Silicon Valley billionaires, celebrity artists, designers, and writers.
Viewing messages from people in our wider social circle made my skin crawl.
These were people Erik and I knew from the gallery openings, the galas, the charity events.
I regretted giving any of them my number.
I’d need to get a new phone SIM when I got home.
My to-do list on my return to NYC was getting longer!
“Nate…oi…Nate!” Jack called. Seems I’d zoned out.
“Sorry, what?” I looked up from my phone to see Jack had strolled out of the bathroom wearing only a white jock with red straps.
My mouth watered and my eyes bugged out like in a cartoon as he bent over and rummaged through his suitcase.
I swear I had emotional whiplash at this stage. With a provocative chuckle he called,
“Off you go, get your gym kit,” Jack prompted. The view of Jack shamelessly naked, apart from a jockstrap was melting my brain. His ass is so fucking perfect!
I’d discovered during our time working together that Jack understood his provocative power like no one else I’d ever known.
He was sensual, and alluring, but not sexually aggressive.
There was a hint of playful boyish innocence thrown into the mix.
Jack had flicked the switch and change from my goofball British friend to giving full spotlight allure with those sinful chocolate bedroom eyes.
When he looked at me in that way, I was gone.
This time was no different. My brain short-circuited and again, I became exasperated, tongue-tied, and flustered in his presence.
Don’t get me wrong, his playful flirtation was always lovely and disarming, but he didn’t actually mean it, right?
Flirting was a game, just a part of his nature.
I watched as Jack stepped into compression shorts and the fabric was pulled up and over his incredible ass. Was he really doing it in slow motion with a bass heavy soul soundtrack or was that just my imagination?
“I’ll, um…yeah…I’ll…uh…go get changed!” I muttered dazedly.
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