Page 70 of The Bodyguard

Fuck him for turning off and...whatever. I know he owes me nothing, but I feel...things I shouldn’t.

Nick and I laugh at the hilarious things that happened on set and gossip like little drunken teenagers.

I need this.

Almost as much as I need Ryder to kiss me.

But I know now it isn’t going to happen. He’s made it clear.

Message received by Mr. Bodyguard, I think drunkenly.

We crossed the line. Now I simply need him to protect me and find whoever is sending these notes.

Nothing more.

For a second, I reflect on the note.

NOW I HAVE YOUR DNA

It’s weird. I haven’t slept with Nick. I’m tempted to ask him about it, but the BHS team has been adamant I keep the situation private for now.

I think it’s a fan with a crush on Nick.

So that narrows it down to one hundred million people.

More.

So while the threat is baseless—because what on earth are they planning to do with my DNA—and even if I had slept with Nick...well, so what?

The public would be thrilled.

“Honestly, it would be good PR,” Michelle reminded me.

“True,” I’d replied.

To which Ryder said, “You’ve both missed the point. If this person is unhinged, the media will be the least of our worries.”

He was right. It’s the crazy and unpredictable nature of the person leaving the notes that is worrying. I feel like running away from everything tonight.

To escape.

But the exquisite champagne, Nick’s wonderful company, and way too many oysters are a good start.

Maybe he is a true friend?

There’s a bond between a leading man and lady that’s hard to describe. You share something unique, when it’s this successful, that only the two of you understand.

“Tell the truth. Do you get nervous during intimacy scenes?” I ask, even though we’ve discussed it before. “You’ve done way more than me. Does it get easier?”

“Depends who it’s with.” He stretches out his leg. “And the team around you.”

“True. Our intimacy team was amazing.”

“They were.” Nick agrees and licks the Belgium chocolate from the back of his spoon. “I was looking forward to our scenes.” He says, placing the spoon on the plate and dabbing his mouth with his napkin.

“You were?” I ask, surprised.

He tosses his napkin on the plate and laughs. “Yes, Savannah Sinclair. You’re a beautiful, sexy woman. Kissing you wasn’t horrible.”

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