CHAPTER THREE

RYDER

––––––––

I'm the boss.

I snort internally.

Baby, you couldn't dominate a man like me if you were given the keys to the city.

I'm impressed that she tried, though. It was sexy as hell. I bet she's a tiger in bed. One I wouldn't bother taming because I like it just as wild.

I hold the door open as Savannah climbs into the back of the SUV, then I go around to the passenger side.

Jack, her driver, and I already had a good chat this morning while waiting for Savannah to get ready for the day.

While I'm on that topic, her outfit is completely inappropriate for...everything. I can almost see her fucking nipples.

I'm not complaining. I'd quite like to see them, suck them, and lick my tongue around them.

I can't, of course.

We don't fuck the clients.

On Saturday night, at Josh and Cassy's wedding, Savannah Sinclair wasn't technically my client—yet —and I've wondered more than twice in the past five minutes if I regret not taking her into the bathroom and fucking her up against the door.

Seeing her ass in her snug pantsuit when she stormed off has landed me on a big fat yes.

Too late now.

Whatever game you were playing last weekend is over.

The only game I was playing was don't fuck the movie star client.

Plus, there were enough eyes on her without mine being added. I'm sure that's the case no matter where she goes. Savannah is Hollywood's it girl right now.

I wonder if she realizes Nick Marciano is in love with her. Or if they're sleeping together, as the media claim. It's hard to know with these actors. Sometimes that's exactly what they want you to think.

I glance in the side mirror as we head through the gates and out onto the road. I also have my own rear vision mirror that enables me to view a number of angles in and out of the vehicle.

I lift my hand to adjust it to study the surroundings.

Then I find a pair of eyes watching me.

"Everything okay, Ms. Sinclair?" I ask, smirking.

Stop fucking looking at me like you want me to grip your neck and fuck you until you scream.

"Yes," she replies and lifts her phone to her ear rebelliously. But she doesn't look away.

Not for a second.

Sassy little tiger.

If my job wasn't to be aware of everything around us, I would have held those green eyes until she broke.

But it is.

So I had to.

Savannah: one. Ryder: one.

Jack makes small talk with me while Savannah chats animatedly on the phone, but I'm more interested in what she's saying.

"What? No. No way. I'm not playing a bumblebee." She giggles. "I know it's just a voice job. Sounds adorable, but I want more leading lady on-screen roles before I do kids' movies."

Her laughter runs through me, and I find myself wanting to hear her more. It's infectious.

Happy.

Feminine.

I like it way too much.

"Okay, give it to me," Savannah says and my eyes involuntarily close for a split second as I imagine her on all fours glancing over her shoulder, begging me to fuck her.

I rub my forehead and take in a car I see closing in on us from behind.

It overtakes.

"What?!" Savannah cries, and I turn around sharply.

She shoots me an irritated look.

"The Globes. Are you shitting me?" She laughs and throws her head back. "And Nick? No way!"

Jack glances at me as I settle back in my seat.

"You'll get used to her." He smiles.

Jesus.

I'm pretty sure a landmine going off is less comfortable for me at this point.

"The fans, not so much." Jack laughs as we turn into the parking lot.

I open the door to the studio and Savannah struts in and starts dancing on the spot excitedly, then takes off like a rocket.

Christ.

When I shut the door, I find her wrapped around Nick.

I force back a growl.

What the hell is wrong with me?

What do I care who she climbs like a tree?

"The Golden Globes!" She dances while he spins her around.

I want to tell him to put her down, but Nick sees me and slides her down his body.

Dead man walking.

Settle down dude.

I clench my teeth and tell myself to get my act together as Nick frowns at me.

"Oh." Savanah waves her hand at me without looking. "Ignore him. He's in training."

My brows lift and I see red. Training?

Fucking Josh.

I need to get off this client. I'm either going to throttle her or fuck her.

Might do both.

At the same time!

––––––––

FOR THE NEXT hour, I stand around watching Savannah's entourage do their thing.

She has two assistants, Briar and Gina. Gina, I learn, is also her best friend and they've known each other for over ten years.

Briar spends most of the time sitting next to her boss, going over dates while Gina is on her phone or bringing her mineral water and coffee.

And flirting with Nick.

He loves it.

Two people work on Savannah's hair—Ricco and Luis, his assistant—while Kali, her makeup artist, applies layer after layer, turning her into the movie star we see on screen.

The result is beautiful.

Even when she glares at me. I bet she'd hate it if I told her that it makes my cock twitch.

Nick sits nearby and they chat while scrolling on their phones. It's amusing how focused they are on Hollywood gossip and what their fans are saying on social media.

"Tyler's new hit missed number one. Sad," Nick says.

"So sad," Savannah says, and it's obvious she couldn't care less.

"Tommy's Love? It was never going to get there." Ricco, her hair stylist, shakes his head. "Why everyone thought it would, is beyond me."

"I don't like it." Savannah shrugs. "It's too melancholy."

"The world is melancholy, babe," Ricco says, then turns on the hairdryer, closing down the conversation for a moment.

Luis gazes like a lovesick puppy at Savannah. I can't put my finger on it. He must be new, as he is star-struck or lacking in confidence.

Possibly both.

But since we arrived, he's acted nervous around her.

Or maybe it's me.

He's a good looking guy, in his mid-twenties. The makeup gal, Kali, seems to get along with him. The two have chatted about some industry products or some shit.

As I study them all, they ignore me.

Gina is interesting. She perches on the bench between Nick and Savannah, and I watch her run her eyes over his body seductively.

He winks at her.

Then carries on.

When we arrived, I asked Savannah if her entire team had been through a thorough security check.

"Yes. Chill," she'd replied and plonked down into her chair in front of the mirrors.

"Don't I know you?" Nick had asked when the hairdryer finally stopped.

"No." I widened my stance and Savannah glanced my way with pink cheeks.

Interesting.

She's embarrassed.

"Babe. I've seen him before. Where?" Nick continues.

Babe?

Why the hell is he calling her babe?

I noticed I wasn't the only one irritated. Gina's mouth set in a hard line as I watched the team dynamics unfold.

It's more than a crush. She likes Nick.

But Nick likes Savannah.

Savannah appears oblivious, but I wonder if that's true. She's way too smart for that. At that moment, though, she's working her way through the embarrassment of Saturday night.

My lips twitch, but not enough to turn into a smile.

"He was at the wedding on the weekend. One of the groomsmen."

"Get the fuck out. That was you?" Nick laughs.

That's right, I'm the guy she wanted to fuck.

"What are we missing?" Gina asks, her head swiveling between us and her eyes narrowing at me.

"Nothing." Savannah mutters. "Can you make sure the show is still running on time?"

Gina lets out a huff and jumps off the counter, taking off.

I watch her leave the room and wonder how their friendship withstands such a huge power difference. And financial if we're being honest here.

Savannah is a superstar.

Her friend is her assistant.

How does that work?

I turned my attention back to Nick, who was still laughing. He knew Savannah.

Interesting.

But I can't get a read on his humor. It's almost like he thinks the whole thing is a joke. Like she would never have fucked the groomsman and certainly not her bodyguard.

He's right.

She wouldn't.

It would be a disaster if it leaked.

Josh also had an opinion the night of his wedding. He'd leaned in front of Aidan—we were seated side by side at the wedding table—and said, "Just in case we're not clear, you can't fuck Savannah Sinclair."

Aidan choked on his smoked salmon. "Christ, wait until I've swallowed, will you?"

"That's what she said." I smirked, sipping my drink.

"Ryder." Josh ground out.

"All I'm doing is sitting here and drinking my drink, Josh. Innocent as fuck."

"While she shoots sex eyes at you across the room."

"And yet, my dick is still in my pants." I lifted my shoulder.

"Jesus, I'm moving seats," Aidan said, wiping his mouth on his napkin.

"Tell him he can't fuck Savannah Sinclair." Josh nudged Aidan's shoulder.

Talk about pot calling the kettle black. The guy had been sitting next to his bride, who'd very recently been a client.

The entire conversation was unnecessary. I had no intention of sleeping with her. Sure, I had enjoyed having one of the most beautiful women in the world watching me, but I valued my job.

Fucking a movie star I was assigned to was just asking for trouble. Me and trouble weren't friends.

Both she and I had very solid reasons to keep our distance. And keep things professional.

"He knows," Aidan replied.

"I do. And it's a moot point," I said. "She ran into me outside and I was clear with her I wasn't interested."

"Not clear enough. She has been watching you all night." Josh shook his head.

"Well, some women find rejection a turn on." I shrugged. I couldn't imagine a man alive saying no to a woman like her, so it was probably quite intriguing.

"Do they?" Aidan asked, lifting a brow.

"Good one. Now he's changing his Tinder profile." Josh rolled his eyes as I laughed.

"If I walked over there and asked for her number, she'd lose interest immediately." I sipped my drink and chanced a look her way. "But I'm enjoying the show, and it will make Monday morning quite amusing."

I'd been winding them up.

I'd told Josh I would rather not guard women when I joined Black Hawke Security. We didn't go into it, and he knew not to ask.

The answer was highly classified.

It also wasn't a place I liked to revisit mentally.

So this was temporary while we waited for Josh to return from his honeymoon, and we restructured schedules.

I would be fine for a week or two.

Then again, while being a bodyguard to a celebrity has its risks, the chances of one being held at gunpoint by a man wrapped in a suicide vest were slim.

But never zero.