Page 17 of The Tenor's Shadow

“Just until this whole stalking thing dies down.” Danny’s voice had a hint of genuine fear in it. Anthony could be compassionate about that later.

“It was only a few letters,” Anthony said. “I’ll call the cops or something, get a restraining order. I won’t be saddled with some creepy meathead.”

“You can’t get a restraining order when you don’t know who the stalker is. And Oliver says Freddie saved you from an aggressive fan, so they aren’t the only problem.”

“How the hell does Oliver know that?” Anthony glared at Freddie, who was still staring out the window, his face blank. “It just happened a couple of minutes ago.”

“Freddie checks in regularly.”

“So not only is he intruding on my space, he’s reporting back to you two on my life?”

“He’s there to keep you safe.”

“I don’t need that!”

“Please, Tony, for me?”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not a teenager anymore. You can’t saddle me with some muscle-bound shadow.”

Anthony hung up and threw his phone on the bed. This was ridiculous. His uncle had always been overprotective, but this was too far.

“Creepy meathead?”

Anthony startled. Freddie’s deep baritone sent a shiver down his spine. His body’s unconscious response infuriated him.

Sure, Freddie’s voice was rumbly and sexy, and sure, he was tall, and his skin was porcelain with the perfect scattering of freckles. And sure, his hair was a truly rare shade of red. It didn’t matter. He would not be charmed by this British lunk.

“I stand by it.”

Freddie shrugged and sat down in the office chair aside the tinker toy table the hotel considered a desk.

“What are you doing?” Anthony asked, his voice rising higher in pitch than he would have liked. “You’re not staying.”

Freddie said nothing.

“You are not my bodyguard. I didn’t hire you. Get out of my room!”

Freddie still said nothing.

“I said, get out!” Anthony grabbed the phone from the nightstand. “I’m calling hotel security.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a stranger and you’re in my room and you won’t leave!”

“What will you tell them?”

“That my uncle hired a bodyguard for me against my will and he won’t get out and he attacked a fan of mine in the restaurant…” As the words left his lips and hit the cold air of the hotel room, Anthony trailed off. It did seem ridiculous.

Freddie’s face was a still mask as he positioned himself to keep tabs on the outside of the hotel and have a conversation at the same time.

Anthony was losing the steam of his righteous indignation. “I don’t want you here.”

“I know.”

“So leave.”

“No.”

Anthony sank down onto the soft mattress of the bed. This was absolutely ludicrous. He didn’t need a bodyguard, and he certainly didn’t need this near-mute monstrosity hanging around him all the time. He hated tall people. They made everyone else feel inadequate.

He would have to convince his uncle to call Freddie off. He’d find a way to show Daniel that everything was fine. God. How was he able to screw up Anthony’s life from over five thousand miles away? He was sweating just thinking about it.

He shook it off and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

Anthony shot him the coldest stare he could muster. “I’m going to use the toilet. Then, I’m taking a shower. This whole thing has got me feeling gross.”

Anthony slammed the bathroom door closed behind him. He leaned against the thick wood. At least he had something solid between himself and this frustrating intrusion in his life. What a nightmare.

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