Page 37 of Love on the Byline

“That’s the plan.” Ollie disconnected the call and pulled uphis text messages, firing off a note he hoped would solve their immediateproblem.

Sighing heavily, Bran stared out the tinted window. “Why isthis happening now?”

“Could be a zealous fan, could be a hater. It doesn’tmatter.”

Bran snorted a bitter laugh. “Doesn’t matter, he says.”

Ollie looked up. “Does it? All of your shit is on thisphone. Photos, text messages…all the stuff I specifically told you notto leave on your main device. Jesus, you don’t even have two-factorauthentication on your apps.”

“Two factor what? Anyway, I hate carrying multiple phones.”His words lacked their usual fire.

“Well, now you don’t need to. I’ll be carrying your phonefrom now on.”

Alarmed, Bran sat up. “Says who?”

“And we’re getting you some personal security.”

“No.” Bran slashed a hand through the air, as if thatactually worked.

“Yes.” When the response to his text came through, some ofthe pressure eased off of his chest. He hit the call button. “Conrad, newaddress. We’re going to 5288 Chelsea Lane. La Jolla.”

“We’re heading to La Jolla?” Bran’s entire demeanor changed.He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

“No one will think to look for you there.” Ollie sent theaddress to Clark.

CLARK: I’ll meet you there in 2 hours.

OLLIE: Text when you’re close. I still think it’s timeBran had a PSD. Now more than ever.

CLARK: I doubt we can get someone within the hour, butI’ll make a few calls.

OLLIE: To someone we trust?

CLARK: You don’t trust me?

He cursed under his breath. Of all the people in Bran’scamp, his agent was the last person Ollie wanted to piss off. He had away of making his suggestions sound like the only option.

OLLIE: Of course. Sorry, I’m on edge.

He also had a contact back in Philly.

OLLIE: Leave the security to me.

CLARK: Look after our asset, I’ll take care of the rest.

Clark’s liberal use of the word asset made him sickto his stomach. While he understood Bran’s value to the agent’s bottom line,not to mention those of the studio execs and everyone else who had a stake inhis career, it rubbed Ollie the wrong way. Actors, athletes, musicians—theywere people, not fucking property.

“How pissed is he?” Bran asked, probably misreading thedisgust on Ollie’s face for something else.

“Hard to tell via text.” He leaned back in the seat,grateful when the ride smoothed out. Resting his head against the cool leather,he closed his eyes. “Clark will meet us in La Jolla. Noelia will probably come,too.”

“And...how pissed are you?”

Ollie cracked open one eye. For most of the time he’d knownBran, he had thought of him as larger than life. Even before he was a risingmovie star, Bran had occupied a place of honor in Ollie’s pantheon. Seeing thelook on his face now, hearing the worry in his voice—not about the situation,but about how it affected Ollie—he realized the spot he himself held in Bran’sworld.

Confidante.

Shield.

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