Page 14 of Beyond the Fame

My bodyguard, one I hired through Bruno’s company, was originally going to share the suite with me but he had a last-minute family emergency. Instead of replacing him, Mylan told me not to worry because he’d hired enough security to protect us all while we’re here. I don’t need a bodyguard as often as Mylan does, only when I’m traveling or going to crowded events.

The suite is fantastic. Modern yet true to the tropical island motif. To my right, a kitchen with sleek stainless-steel appliances and a bar overlooking the living area. To my left, a glass dining table with four white cloth-covered chairs.

The living room is massive, with stark white furniture and a thin smart TV hanging on the wall. In the far-left corner is an office set-up with a wooden desk to match the wooden coffee table and side tables.

Rebecca must have opened the room to the outside. Sliding glass doors reveal a balcony overlooking the sea. A slight breeze rakes over me and I inhale salt, fresh air, and a hint of flowers, though I couldn’t say what kind. The sounds of the waking night filter in—waves crashing against the beach, the pulse of a whistling insect or maybe it’s a frog singing songs, the faint notes of music, and people outside laughing and talking.

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

I turn around to find Rebecca leaning against the doorframe to what I assume is the bedroom she chose.

“You’re willingly talking to me?” I ask smugly. She flinches, almost as if remembering she hates me and shouldn’t be having a conversation with me.

She scans my face, her brows pinching together. “Where are your glasses?”

“Ever heard of contacts?”

“Yes, dumbass, but I've never not seen you wear those stupid glasses.”

“One, they’re not stupid. They’re sexy and you know it.” I shrug. “And two, we’re on a hot tropical island. Contacts seemed like the smart option.”

She waves a finger around her mouth and chin. “And what’s with that? Did you lose your razor?”

I rake my palm over my nicely trimmed beard, enjoying the way Rebecca’s kissable lips part ever so slightly as she follows the movement.

“If you stare any harder, your eyes will fall out.”

She straightens her back and clamps her mouth shut.

“I chose the smaller bedroom. They both have their own bathrooms, so as far as I’m concerned, we won’t have to cross paths while we’re here.”

“Except we’re both in the wedding and we’re going to cross paths the entire time we’re here.”

Bruno asked me to be a groomsman, and I almost thought he was joking. I’ve known Bruno since he became Mylan’s bodyguard a decade ago, but we were never really friends. He’s older than us, closer to Lana and Ginger’s age. We always thought of him as the tough big brother. Over the years, he loosened up. He’d still be intimidating in public while working, but in private, he’d joke around with us, talk about women, or his family. Having someone in your life that long, it’s inevitable to form a connection with them.

While I never had that deep of a connection with Bruno, we’ve become friends these past few years. He’s no longer Mylan’s bodyguard. Now he’s just one of the guys.

Rebecca purses her lips and turns on her heel, back into the bedroom. Before she closes the door, she pauses. “I appreciate you offering me the room. Thank you.”

Then she slams the door so hard, so childish, I can’t help but laugh out loud.

I bring my belongings into the other bedroom. Rebecca said her room was the smallest, but damn, my room is almost twice as big as the living area. There’s a king-size bed with a light gray comforter. A matching gray couch and armchair next to it. A wood desk in the corner, and another thin smart TV hanging above a wooden dresser. The balcony extends to this bedroom, accessed by a sliding glass door built into a wall of windows.

I unpack my clothes since I'll be here for four full days. Tonight is dinner with the friends group. Tomorrow is the rehearsal dinner followed by Bruno’s bachelor party—though it’s basically just going to be me, Mylan, and Bruno hanging out—the wedding is the next day, and I decided to stay two extra days for some much-needed relaxation before heading back to Los Angeles to take care of things ahead of my next project. My assistant already has a long list that I’m dreading tackling.

I desperately need a shower.

The bathroom holds a massive glass cubed shower and an equally massive jacuzzi next to it. Thoughts of fucking Rebecca in that jacuzzi cross my mind.

She said she’d never let me touch her again. I won’t if that’s what she wants. The moment I sucked her release off my fingers in the back of that car a year ago, regret replaced her lust. She accused me of being disgusting, all because the SUV had a privacy screen, which I activated the moment we pulled away from the airport. She thought nothing of it at first, but her expansive imagination must have thought I regularly fucked women in the backseat of my chauffeured car, all because of a stupid privacy screen.

Rebecca is the only woman I've ever wanted to touch or fuck in the back of a car.

Thoughts of that infuriating woman have me jacking off and blowing my load all over the shower tile before turning off the water. I dry off and return to the bedroom, staring down at the outfit I laid out.

I frown, remembering the email Ginger sent.

No flannel or beanie hats allowed. I’m talking to you, Jensen.

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