Page 2 of Protecting Mr. Fine

Violet performed the introduction. “Zee, this is Ryan Galloway. Ryan, Zee Barlo.”

“Hi, I’m Zane,” he said with a polite smile, surprising me since I hadn’t known Zee was short for anything. “I hear you’re my new close protection officer. Welcome to the team.”

We were standing in the reception area of the recording studio, and the morning sun had slanted in through one of the high windows, lighting up the golden strands in his long brown hair. The air-conditioning had even kicked on, making the strands blow in an artificial breeze.

Winds of fate, indeed.

“H-hi,” I stammered before reminding myself I was a professional. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Nice to meet you. I know you have a recording session today. Anything else you have planned?”

He shook his head. “No. The session will take most of the day, and they’ll order in lunch for us. Ready?”

I nodded and followed him toward a hallway while he walked and typed messages in his phone at the same time. Clearly, he didn’t take any personal responsibility for situational awareness, but maybe that was simply due to feeling safe in such a familiar space. Or maybehe was an entitled ass who left the pesky security shit to the hired help.

You can ignore a pretty face if it comes attached to a self-important celebrity,I told myself.There’s nothing sexy about that.

Zane pointed me to a chair against the wall between the sound booth’s door and the door to the editing suite. After glancing around both spaces to get a sense of who was in the room with us and what other exits there were and determining there were no active threats, I sat.

Violet had prepared me for how tedious a day in the studio could be, but I’d spent years keeping watch over a king whose favorite activity was watching the news on TV. This couldn’t be much different.

Then Zane began singing.

I sat up straight in my chair like I’d been jolted by a live wire.

That voice. Sweet fucking god. It was phenomenal.

It was also, I realized, familiar. Several younger members of the Ventdestinian royal family—Asger’s grandchildren—had been obsessed with Zee and had played his music nonstop out by the pool last summer.

Song after song, take after take, I let that glorious voice wash over me. For some reason, it felt like he was singing right to me, even though his eyes were closed in concentration most of the time.

When we broke for lunch, he was inundated with people who needed to talk to him. An assistant asking him questions, his manager, Micki, informing him of schedule changes, and a member of his band telling him a long, detailed story of how he’d spent his weekend. Throughout all of it, Zane listened as if the person he was talking to was the only person in the room.

He had the patience of a saint and the kindness of a damned Disney princess.

And that was when I came to a couple of mortifying realizations.

First, that Zane wasn’t just a gorgeous face and a captivating voice. He was a decent person.

And second, that I might possibly have a little bit of trouble maintaining my professional distance… though Iwould. I obviously would.

Hubris whispered,Don’t be so sure, but I ignored it.

I spent the next few days escorting Zane from his home in Malibu to the recording studio while he worked long hours performing music for a new album. Each day, I expected the music to get old, for the songs to begin to sound the same, or for me to wish for silence.

None of those things happened.

I found myself falling into a strange and easy obsession with him. Somehow, in the span of three days, I turned into one of the singer’s rabid fans, only I had to hide it as my own horrifying and dirty secret.

Zee Barlo became my idol. He had the voice of a fallen angel and eyes that melted my fucking heart.

Okay, I told myself.SoI like his music and think he’s one of the few people in the world who truly deserves to be as famous as he is.I maybe even have a small crush on him. So what?

It was agoodthing I was pleasantly obsessed with his voice since I’d be hearing a nauseating amount of it as long as he was my principal. And my crush simply meant that I was more aware of him. Better able to do my job. It didn’t have to be a big deal.

Hubris said,Hold my beer.

On the fourth day of my “super-cushy” assignment, I realized Zane wasn’t just a good person… he was maybe the best person I’d ever met.

Zane didn’t have a full-time PA because it was “stressful” and made him feel like a diva. Instead, he had a house manager who kept his fridge stocked and his laundry done, and he had an assistant named Kenji, who was based in New York and seemed to run Zane’s financial and legal life. On this particular day, Kenji flew out in the corporate jet, seemingly for the sole purpose of getting Zane’s undivided attention while Zane traveled to Toronto for a meet and greet.

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