Page 88 of Love on the Byline

About half a block from the Beverly Wilshire, Ollie got outof the SUV. He hated the whole red-carpet experience and had managed to avoidwalking it, except for a few times when Bran had needed an entourage around himto act as a shield from adoring fans and pushy paparazzi.

He flashed his credentials at the checkpoint and waited asafe distance away while Rory inched the SUV up the line.

When Bran emerged, wearing sunglasses for some reason, Olliemade his way through the back line and towards the door, where he’d wait forhim. It wasn’t a major motion picture, so it didn’t take long.

“Where’s Blake?”

“Still running late, I expect.” He’d checked his phone butthere was no update from her.

“You don’t think she’s going to bail on us, do you? Changeher mind?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you want her here so badly?”

Ignoring him, Bran walked on ahead.

It took a moment for Ollie to catch up, and he reached himjust as the line through the door began to flow.

“Put the glasses away,” he said, motioning for Bran toremove them.

“Right, because I look like such an ass in sunglasses atnight.”

“You always look like an ass. Those make you look like a pretentiousass.”

“Shit, really? Fuck that.” He tucked the shades away.

With a glance around, Ollie ushered him towards the mainballroom.

“There are way more people here than I was expecting.” Hespoke to Bran’s back as they moved through the crowd.

They were stopped by a Latinx woman in a striking gold lamégown. She looked up at Bran from under feathered lashes too long and thick tobe real.

“And who is this?”

Bran put a hand on his shoulder. “This is Oliver Benjamin.Ols, this is Viviana Lopez.”

“A pleasure.” He gave a polite nod of greeting but didn’textend his hand out of fear of being judged for his sweaty palms. Where thehell was Blake? He was starting to worry. Had her car broken down somewhere?Was her cellphone out of juice?

“I’m so glad you came, Brandon. Let me introduceyou to my friend, Dakota Fink.”

He hung back while Bran charmed the two women. And he wasnot at all watching the doors for a particular reporter with an hourglassfigure, silky black curls, and eyes that could cut through him with one glance.

After a few minutes, Bran excused himself and they continuedinto the ballroom.

“That’s us,” he said, pointing to their assigned table. Hescanned the room as they reached it, but there was no sign of Blake. Frowning,he wondered if maybe she had changed her mind after all.

“Sit down.” Bran grabbed him by the arm and gently pulled.“Nothing from her yet?”

“Not since before we arrived.” He pulled out his chair andsat.

“Text her and let her know where we are. Maybe her signal isweak.”

When he didn’t respond, Bran clasped his shoulder.

“She’ll find a way to reach out.”

“I hope so.” He shook his head, feeling uneasy.

“Did you see Val or Sam while you were scoping out theroom?”

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