Page 104 of Protecting Mr. Fine

This wasn’t good.

“Don’t worry,” Ellis said. “All of the security companies we contract with will be required to sign the same policy agreement.”

One of the attorneys passed down a pen while Ellis continued speaking. “But while you’re here, I wanted to set up a time for our final contract signing. I mentioned to Micki that…”

His words drifted away as I looked down at the No Fraternization Agreement in front of me. Blood began to roar in my ears, and my palms began to sweat. If I refused to sign this today in a room full of people, they’d immediately suspect something was going on between Ryan Galloway and me.

I had no right to put Bear in that situation, regardless of my ownfeelings. But on the other hand, there was no way I could sign a paper saying I promised not to fraternize with him.

I wanted desperately to fraternize with him. In fact, I wanted him to fraternize me from behind as soon as I got home.

Micki leaned in and whispered, “The attorneys confirmed it’s okay to sign.”

I picked up the pen and unscrewed it, trying to buy some time. The cap jumped out of my hands and skittered across the table.

Kenji made a big production out of clearing his throat. His long fingers moved up to wrap around his slender neck as he did the worst acting job LA had ever seen.

“Excuse me. I’m allergic tofish. By any chance, was there salmon in the breakfast casserole?”

TWENTY-SIX

RYAN

Did you know that brown bears often part ways during winter? They hate the separation, though, and as soon as spring arrives, they’ll roam miles to find each other again, sometimes even fighting off attackers to reunite with their nearest and dearest. You can’t keep a bear separated from his friends or his honey for long.

—Bear Facts for Insomniacs, Episode 47

I stared at Zane’s assistant for a nanosecond before muscle memory and habit spurred me into action upon hearing the wordfish. “We need to get this man medical attention. Micki, can you step outside and find out if anyone has any antihistamine? Kenji, can you breathe?”

Zane frowned at me and opened his mouth as if to tell me that Kenji was obviously joking. Not only was he not allergic to fish, but his grandfather had been a commercial fisherman in Misawa, Japan, before coming to the US and marrying an American woman. Kenjihad grown up on family fish recipes. His claim of being allergic was laughable, which was why I didn’t understand Zane thinking I’d believed it for one minute.

“My throat feels a little…” Kenji made big eyes at Zane. “Thick,” he added drily.

Finally, Zane got it. Unfortunately, he was worse at acting than Kenji was. “Oh no. We should get you to a hospital,” he said robotically. He turned to the executives in the room. “I’m so sorry to cut our meeting short, but Kenji’s been with me for over ten years. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

The people from the label nodded and expressed their concern, offering to have someone call an ambulance if necessary.

I assured them we would take good care of him. “Zee has a personal physician on call. She can meet us at the house. Thank you.”

I ushered everyone out into the hall, where Paul and Miguel snapped to attention. “Fish,” I said, moving us through the lobby to the elevator. They nodded and fell in line, calling down to Claudia to bring the car around. Thankfully, she and Ed were waiting for us. Unfortunately, Micki joined us, too.

Once we were en route to the house in Malibu, Zane threw himself back against the leather seat. “Kenji, fuck. You’re the worst actor,” he groaned.

Kenji tilted his head at Zane. “You—who knows I don’t have any allergies except for pretty-boy supermodels—believed me. I’d say that makes me a great actor.”

Micki looked between the two of them. “I’m confused. You aren’t allergic to fish?”

Kenji speared her with an icy glare. When he spoke, his voice was cold enough to skate on. “I’m allergic to people who expect a high-level celebrity to sign papers practically the moment he steps off an international flight, without his attorney present.”

While Micki stammered out an apology and tried explaining, I turned forward in my seat to hide my grin but caught Claudia’s eye.She lifted her eyebrow at me as if asking what the hell was going on. I didn’t dare tell her.

“Drop me in Santa Monica?” I asked softly instead. She nodded.

We’d done this many times before, back before Zane had needed round-the-clock close personal protection and we would part ways at the end of a workday, letting our team’s driver deposit him safely behind the monitored gates of his home.

Now, of course, he’d have Paul and Miguel with him for the next forty-eight hours, regardless of whether he was home alone or not.

As long as the threats continued and the Stamper was still at large, Zane’s life was no longer his own.

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