Page 4 of Hunted Hearts
Rachel waved a hand toward another member of Juliette’s team. Her personal assistant looked like she did when in the middle of the stage, and they all knew she hated being in the spotlight—that was Juliette’s job.
“She killed it with her shoe!” The assistant took a step backward, darting looks at the “weapon” balanced on top of the flowers.
Drawing on the acting skills she used around people when her energy was running low, Juliette lifted her shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “The shoe was all I had.”
Chris, her wardrobe stylist, swept into the room just then, his arms full of garment bags, and immediately caught the tail end of the conversation. “Are we still talking about the killer bouquet?” He hooked the clothes on the rack with a dramaticsigh. “I told you, honey, you need a scorpion emoji on your merch now.” He panned a hand through the air. “‘Juliette: Deadly and beautiful.’”
Despite herself, Juliette cracked a smile. Chris could always make her laugh, even when she was shaken—and yeah, maybe the incident had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.
She’d come back from sound check glowing with the buzz of her music in her veins, only to find the bouquet of her favorite flower, gardenias, on her vanity. At first, she’d smiled, picked up the vase and pressed her face to the blooms.
And then the scorpion had slithered out from between the petals, black and glossy, tail arching up like a threat from a nightmare.
She’d screamed. Then smashed it with the heel of her Louboutin.
End of story.
Or so she’d thought.
Her team disagreed.
One by one, they’d poured into the room—her tour manager, her assistant, her publicist, even the venue’s head of security. All of them serious, all of them wearing that tight, worried expression.
Even Chris, her comic relief on the team, was looking at her with a pinch of concern, the same way he looked at her when her lashes weren’t cooperating with his mascara wand.
Rachel crossed her arms. “It’s time to hire a bodyguard.”
She was already shaking her head. “I have more than enough people on my team.”
Juliette had grown up around a lot of staff. At a very young age, she learned that having too many people around her—more people to take care of, to think about—took her focus away from her music.
She loved every single person who supported her career, but they occupied space in her brain…and she needed a lot of open mental space for creativity.
“I don’t need a bodyguard hanging around. Every artist knows that the wrong person in the room can totally mess up your energy.” Her argument seemed to fizzle out on her lips, and had the same effect on her team as spritzing them with lukewarm water.
She tried again.
“I meditate.” She glanced at each of them like they’d forgotten who she was. “I journal. I have grounding rituals. I protect my own peace. That’s how I stay sane with this schedule. You allknowthat. Bringing in somebody new now could totally throw me off my game.”
Rachel crossed her arms. “And we support you, Jules. But your safety is more important. Who knows what could happen next? And this isn’t the first time. Remember what happened in London?”
“Somebody just left my dressing room door open. It was a simple mistake.” The skin on her forearms prickled, and she quickly crossed the room to the garment rack to flip through the dresses there even though her gown for this performance was already chosen.
“An enthusiastic fan sent the bouquet. They probably didn’t mean to send a scorpion. Maybe it crawled in there on its own.”
Her tour manager had been silent this entire time. Henrik Dahl’s demeanor made him the fatherly figure of the group—and to Juliette. She always took his advice, on everything from venues to music selection. When he cleared his throat, she threw him a hopeful look.
“Henrik understands that a bodyguard doesn’t make any sense. That they’ll mess up my flow.”
The white-haired man shook his head and peered at her apologetically through his wire-rimmed glasses. “I’m sorry, Juliette. But I’m overruling you. You’re getting a bodyguard. In fact, he’s on the way.”
She let out a gasp.
“I looked into a security agency after London. One of the bodyguards from their team happens to be nearby. He arrives in half an hour.”
Juliette crossed the room in brisk steps. “You bring a guy with a neck the size of my thigh into the room, and the vibe will beoff.I can’t flow. I can’t create with that kind of energy pressing in around me! And you know how important it is that I’m at my best. It’s somuch morethan the money.”
Her assistant, Harper, hovered near the back, eyes big and worried. “We know. And you don’t have to play violin with him in the room. Just…have him around. In the wings. He doesn’t need to cramp your space.”
