Page 70 of Songbird
“Can you get through them?” Finn asks the gentleman behind the wheel.
“Yes. Hang in there, Miss Thorne. It’ll take a few minutes.”
Finn’s hands ball into fists on his knees as we edge through the throng, rolling forward at a snail’s pace. He scans the bodies pressed up against the car, eyes darting back and forth and visibly impatient to get to safety, but he doesn’t tell the driver how to do his job, and as disgusting as I find their profession, I don’t want to be responsible for accidentally injuring anyone. Paps throw themselves at the car, waving lenses at the back seat windows, and I lean on years of practice to keep my face impassive and my body unflinching. I’ve got my glasses on, but I still dip my chin. When I reach for my hat for added protection, Pia stops me.
“No,” she says, phone to her ear as she calls inside for one of my security team to open the gate. There’s a protection officer already there, speaking into his earpiece as he accesses a security panel and scowls at the throng. “You’ve got no reason to hide and nothing to be ashamed of. They know you’re in here. Hold your head up high.”
I glance at Finn to check what he thinks, but he’s understandably distracted. Plus, he’s already made it clear that he trusts my instincts. So as the gates to the compound swing open and the car presses through the swarm, I lift mychin, remove my sunglasses, and turn my head toward the incessant flashing. Cameras explode with enthusiasm when the photographers realize I’m offering them a money shot.
The first images of Rosalie Thorne since she was publicly dumped and disgraced by her industry heavyweight fiancé. Why is she looking so hot and composed? Where are the red-rimmed eyes? The tearstained cheeks? The muted wardrobe and the drive of shame?
Not here,I tell them silently. I’ve got nothing to be sad about and no reason to feel humiliated.See me now, Chip?I think with an unintentional smile.You’re never holding me down again.
I should have known that smile would be the one seen around the world, plastered all over social media almost before we finally reach the front door.
twenty-five
Finn
Ibreatheabigfucking sigh of relief when we clear the gates to Rosie’s new home and another when they swing shut behind us. I was comfortable acting as her only bodyguard between here and the airport because nobody was supposed to know where she was. The risk was small, and I was prepared to manage it alone, but the image of two dozen paparazzi lying in wait at the place she’s supposed to be safest kicked my heart into my throat.
I’m pissed I wasn’t prepared. An NDA only goes so far, and I should have expected leaks. I tell myself it’s only for now and not forever, but I’m incapable of bullshit, even in my own head. This is it. This is Rosie’s life, which means it’s also mine.
At least soon I won’t have to ignore the urge to wrap her in my arms. It was hell keeping my hands to myself in that car when all I wanted was to hold her close. None of this is new to her, I know, and she handled it like a pro, but I can’t stand the fact that she had to. And I don’t want to be the one to remind her that her stalker could have been hiding in that crowd. If it didn’t occur to Rosie at the time, there’s no point scaring her after the fact.
As we make our way along the crushed gravel driveway, a restored 1950s behemoth of a house, if you can call it that, complete with manicured gardens and a round driveway with a fountain in the middle, comes into view. The entire property is unnaturally beautiful, wilderness tamed into something palatable for the suburbs, and when the car sweeps around to the front door, I’m the first to step out. The driver is almost as quick, but I still reach Rosie’s door before he does. He nods once before rounding the hood to open the passenger side for Pia.
Stationed outside the open double front doors is the senior member of Rosie’s new security team, a burly guy with ten years on me who I recognize from his application profile picture as John. I spoke to Drew when we landed to let him in on Pia’s plan and he called ahead to tell the team. That means of the nine staff with access to the house over any twenty-four period, Drew’s protection personnel are the only ones aware of my personal relationship with their client, and they’ve been instructed to keep that information confidential.
John and I exchange professional nods as I lead Rosie inside. “Miss Thorne,” he says with an outstretched hand. “I’m John, your new lead security officer.”
Rosie gives his hand a strong shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. The property is secure, and you should feel comfortable moving about,” he reports. “Would you like a full briefing now or after you’ve settled in?”
Rosie glances at me, but I want her to make the call. She considers it for a moment, then says, “Finn can tell me what I need to know later. I’ll let you two get acquainted while I finalize a few things with Pia.”
John inclines his head, and we follow him deeper into the house. Inside, the place is hard to believe, a display of extreme wealth and refined tastes. Lush carpets and layered rugs, open fireplaces and libraries of books, large windows and crystalchandeliers. At first impression, the only thing I like about it is the art, but when Rosie’s eyes light up at the grand piano in one of the living spaces, I decide I like that too.
“The residence is secure,” John says when we reach the kitchen, Rosie and Pia on the other side of the opulent adjoining dining room. “We arrived yesterday to evaluate surveillance capabilities and assess potential risks. As far as private security systems go, we can’t ask for better. The property is fitted with CCTV at all entry points to the house as well as external perimeters.”
“Is there a control room?” At John’s nod, I add, “I’ll need to see that later today. What else?”
If John’s confused about seniority here or my assuming the lead, he doesn’t show it. “Marissa, Jarrod, Tareq, and I are operating in four shifts: screen monitoring, property patrol, personal client security, and rest. Drew says you’re retaining the role of bodyguard?”
“That’s right, so whoever’s working personal security can help with property patrol unless they’re required for travel. Next?”
“There’s a fashion designer and his assistant in the guest wing,” he says. “They had an appointment, and we confirmed IDs against the approved list. Bags also checked. No red flags.”
“Noted. Thank you.” I glance toward Rosie and Pia, oblivious to this conversation, but drop my voice anyway. “I don’t need to remind you that Rosalie’s stalker could be anywhere, including LA, so I’ll accept nothing less than meticulous attention to detail. Bring any unusual activity to me immediately, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. Understood?”
He defers with a swift nod, and the fist around my heart loosens slightly. I appreciate that Drew has already driven home the gravity of Rosie’s situation, and with a full team in place, I take the first full breath since Rosie told me she was ready to leave Silver Leaf.
John and I make our way over to Rosie, and I mirror his professionalism. As long as I’m responsible for Rosie’s personal safety, I’m going to do the job right, no matter how hard it is. One wrong choice when it doesn’t matter could easily be one wrong choice when it does.
“Your afternoon appointment is waiting in the guest wing,” I tell them. “John can take us there when you’re ready.”
Rosie casts me a kittenish look, glancing up underneath her lashes. “Thank you, Finn.”
