Chapter 2

I was only sixteen when my brother enlisted in the army. He has always been my protector and best friend. It broke my heart when he left but I understood. After Dad died, Bridgette became impossible. 

She pushed me into modeling, pulling us both out of school. Andrew resented every minute of it. He was the youngest to ever be starting quarterback for the varsity football team. Scouts were already sizing him up and making offers. He was set to go pro straight out of high school, and Bridgette ruined his chances.

The military has been good for him and he loves it. He came home on leave for my eighteenth birthday party—Andrew never misses a birthday—with Gage in tow. I had an instant crush on my brother’s friend, but he made it more than clear that he thought I was just a dumb kid. 

Like the rest of the world, he saw my pretty face and made assumptions. People brush me off as being ditzy or shallow or vain or all of the above. I’m none of those things.

I’ve only seen Gage one other time, when he came with Andrew to my twenty-first birthday party. A little thrill of excitement goes through me remembering that night and my very first kiss. Andrew wanted me to live it up for my twenty-first, so he dressed me in a disguise and took me to a club. Gage joined us shortly after. We drank and danced, and when my brother slipped away with a girl, Gage stayed close.

I’m not sure who initiated the kiss. 

One second we were dancing and the next his mouth was on mine. The kiss wasn’t a slow and sweet one like I always imagined my first kiss would be. Gage plundered with hungry fervor. When we broke apart, panting for breath, the heated look in Gage’s eyes bled away into disgust. He left me standing in the middle of the dance floor and I haven’t seen him since.

I’m not sure how I feel about having Gage here. Two years ago, he left the army and opened a personal security business. He’s made a name for himself, and from what Andrew has told me, he’s the best in the business. It’s not a huge surprise that Andrew would send Gage since he can’t be here himself, but I can only imagine the situation is going to be extremely awkward.

Ten minutes later, I’m showered and dressed in black skinny jeans and a blousy white shirt. I slip into a pair of heels. I’m distractedly shoving my phone in my purse as I walk into the main area of my hotel room and slam into a wall. Before I can fall to my butt, two strong arms grab me.

Panic floods my system and I shriek, yanking away from the grip. I flail around desperate to get away.

“Easy.”

“G-Gage?”

“That’s right, princess. You okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

All of the tension leaches out of my body and I sink into his hold. I should probably be questioning how he got into my room but with his strong arms around me, I can’t find it in me to care how. 

Bad Aubrey. Quit perving on your brother’s best friend. It’ll only end in disappointment; my twenty-first birthday should act as a cautionary tale when it comes to anything Gage-related, but my idiot body seems to have a mind of its own. I take a steadying breath, then reluctantly pull away.

“Sorry about that. I guess I’m a little on edge.” I force my perfectly practiced smile in place.

Gage frowns. “That’s understandable. I’d be worried if you weren’t on edge, considering.”

A knock on the door causes me to jump. Jesus. I need to get it together. I move to answer the door, but Gage pushes me behind him. “Stay here.”

“It’s just my driver.”

Gage shoots me a withering look. I put my hands up in front of me in surrender. As expected, the visitor is Simon. He doesn’t look surprised by Gage’s presence, which tells me Andrew spoke with him at some point last night.

“The car is ready. Ted is meeting us at the studio.”

I give Simon a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Simon. I’m ready.”

***

The interview goes as expected. I smile prettily and answer questions about Steve Nelson and my ‘breakup’ with Brent. I express the appropriate amount of upset over Brent ‘cheating’ on me—no tears. Talking about Steve Nelson is harder. Gage is watching from backstage and for some reason his mere presence makes it easier. When I’m asked if I’m scared, I can honestly answer that I trust my security team to keep me safe.

I’m barely off the set when my phone rings.

 Ugh, Bridgette.

“Hello.”

“You look tired. That’s not acceptable,” she screeches.

“I’m sorry.” 

Should I have to apologize? No, but it’s just easier than explaining that I just got back from London yesterday and instead of being able to rest, I had to go straight to a shoot that didn’t end until late. Not to mention that she had me up before the roosters for this interview.

Gage’s warm palm presses against my lower back as he guides me out of the studio and the rest of Bridgette’s rant becomes static in my ear. He helps me into the car then slides in beside me, making the spacious backseat feel small. His presence is overwhelming but strangely reassuring.

“Did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, I missed what you said.”

“I said if that makeup artist of yours can’t manage to do something as simple as cover dark circles under your eyes I’m going to replace him.” Her tone moves from angry to belligerent.

“It isn’t Ted’s fault.” I try to defend him, but it falls on deaf ears. She continues her tirade until I’m ready to hang up on her. I won’t, but I want to. Finally, we arrive on location for the shoot and I have a legitimate reason to hang up. “Mom, I have to go, we just arrived at the shoot.”

“Make sure that idiot gets your makeup right. Keep your fingers off the food table.”

“Yes, Bridgette.”