The Movie Star and the Spy (The Secret Billionaires #5)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

D amn.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

This was bad. Not merely “I’m having a bad hair day” bad, but “There’s been an alien invasion and they think humans taste like chicken” bad. It would only take one word, three little letters – Y-E-S – to blow months of intel. If he said yes, she could forget about ever being targeted by the criminals. Hell, it could destroy her entire undercover career. And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? Didn’t he know not saying anything was as good as climbing to the top of the Eiffel tower and screaming yes?

“Actually, now that you mention it…”

She held her breath.

“We have a wonderful professional relationship.”

Cheyenne barely stopped herself from pumping her fist into the air and yelling “Bring on the human-loving aliens because I can conquer anything today!”

“I just met Ms. Dane a few days ago. You might see us working closely, but that’s because she’s my new personal assistant. It’s her job to attend to my needs.”

Cheyenne ignored the words.

“Ensure my every desire is satisfied,” he continued.

Okay, a little harder to ignore.

“Answer to my every whim.”

Was it breaking character to kick the hottest movie star on Earth?

“Put toothpaste on my toothbrush.”

That was it. Just as Cheyenne crafted the perfect retort, the reporter, along with everyone else, broke into laughter. She relaxed. Of course, he was joking.

“What do you think, Destiny?” Stacy thrust the microphone in her face. “Is Julian an easy boss?”

Do not panic. Do not betray your cover. You are Destiny Dane.

But it was hard to keep cool under the camera’s unrelenting glare. When the captain saw this, and no doubt he would, he’d kick her to traffic duty so quickly she’d get road burn. Still she had to say something. “Sure.”

Tick tock, tick tock, the seconds trudged as the reporter’s eyebrows curved higher and higher. She waggled a finger. “You can’t get away with a one-word answer. Tell us the truth. Is Julian a demanding tyrant?”

If the crown fits… “Sure.” Then, although it was a really, really bad idea, she continued, “Although diva would be a better term. He’s lucky he has me.”

“Really?” The reporter’s nostrils flared, caught on a whiff of something delicious. “Would he be lost without you?”

Cheyenne seemed to have lost control of her mouth. “I just started, but I can already say he definitely needs help.” She lowered her voice to a loud whisper, as if sharing a deep, dark secret. “You don’t know the extent of it. He wasn’t joking about needing help with his toothbrush.”

Now everyone laughed, and even Julian cracked a smile. More people watched them, drawing attention she couldn’t afford. She formed an excuse to leave, but the reporter had already turned back to the star. “Julian, those are challenging words. Are you sure there isn’t anything going on between you two?”

Cheyenne’s breath hitched.

“Nope,” he said. “Definitely not.”

She relaxed.

“Absolutely, one hundred percent not.”

They probably got the idea, but it was okay to make it clear.

“For sure no.”

Why was he continuing?

“Not a chance.”

People were starting to smile.

“The answer is negative.”

“They get it,” Cheyenne broke in. He was joking, but a strong enough negative could convey a positive. Curious expressions had already turned to outright suspicion. She swept forward. “If we don’t leave now, you’ll have a lot of disappointed fans.”

“What would I do without her?” Julian nodded at the reporter. “It was great to see you, Stacy. I’ll see you soon?”

“Count on it.” Stacy gestured for the cameraman to cut, then exchanged handshakes with the men and hugs with the ladies. “And you too, Destiny. I’d love to talk more about what it’s like to work with Julian.”

Cheyenne stiffened. She – and the mission – could ill withstand another interview. Yet before she could decline, Julian stepped forward. “I’m afraid Destiny won’t be available. She has too much to do with a tyrant as a boss.” He tempered the words with a wink, and the crowd laughed.

It was a welcome and unexpected save. Taut muscles relaxed, and oxygen came easier. Despite his earlier actions, Julian had just saved her, more than he could possibly know.

“Of course,” the newswoman replied smoothly, with a speculative glance that snipped Cheyenne’s relief. The reporter may be one of the tamer ones, but she was still a professional. If she caught a whiff of a story, she’d come looking for a taste, and then she might discover an entire feast.

She couldn’t worry about that now, however, not with a full day of undercover work. The actors bid goodbye and resumed their journey, hustling down a long corridor flanked by posters of movie stars from the past and present. An entire battalion of uniformed police officers accompanied them, well-built and heavily armed. When they passed through two heavy metal doors, the reason for the security became clear.

Cheyenne had seen Julian’s fame in and outside the studio, but nothing could prepare her for a journey through the mania. The cavernous room held thousands of people, swarming around a huge stage, rows and rows of chairs and booths running up and down the perimeter. Even before the crowd caught sight of their beloved star, they called his name, chanted it, screamed it while fanning themselves. They gasped and squealed, pointed and clapped, jumped up and down. A few looked ready to faint. Though there were other stars, there was one unequivocal king: Julian Starcroft.

“Julian, I love you!”

“Marry me, please!”

“Can I have your baby?”

The scrutiny was unbelievable. Flashing cameras blinded her, set to deafening screams that made her eardrums quiver. Huge screens flashed on the walls, playing action scenes set to lively music. A thousand scents tangled, perfumes, incense and the mash of hundreds of bodies. Excited fans pressed closer, held back solely by the flexible fence of police officers. Only years of crisis and crowd training kept her poised, as she stopped to observe.

Julian leaned down and whispered. “It can be overwhelming, so let me know if you need a breather. I’ve got you.”

He meant it, and not as a jest. Her neutral mask faded, just a little, as they locked eyes, carving a private world in a realm of thousands. In all this commotion, he’d stopped to make sure a single person was okay. That was not how actors were supposed to be. Actors were supposed to be arrogant and cold and care only for themselves. They were supposed to use women for what they wanted and then…

Then they were supposed to leave.

The whispered words came on their own, “You really are a good guy.”

He smiled. “Nah, I just play one on TV.”

She returned the grin, and although realization of the crowd returned, it didn’t seem quite as overpowering. Then there was no more time for reflection as handlers hustled them along. She rubbed her hands, refocusing her energy. Time to pursue her mission.

They split into two groups, the major players like Julian, Zachary and the directors ascending the stage and the rest of the cast and crew moving to a group of chairs set to the side. Cheyenne picked a prime spot in the middle of several top suspects. It would take a few minutes for everyone to get settled, so she immediately set to work. “This is so exciting. Oh, hey Kevin and John.” She smiled widely, as if just noticing them. “Great to see you.”

“Hi Destiny,” they replied with matching cocky grins.

Out of the corner of her eye, Julian pivoted her way. Surrounded by celebrities, cops, officials and fans, he had thousands of people to occupy him – literally – but he focused directly on her. His annoyance beamed like the laser swords the cosplayers wielded.

She ignored him. “Others may prefer front row seats, but I scored the best spot in the house.” She touched both their arms and winked. “The very best.”

They laughed. One placed his hand over hers, while the other puckered an air kiss.

Julian’s scowl turned thunderous.

“And how are you all doing?” She twisted, including the men in the row behind her. They rewarded her with a number of “Fines’” and “Great, now that you’re heres.”

“Do you know how attractive you are?” Peter, one of the men on her short list, grasped a lock of her hair and twirled it between his fingers. “I was disappointed when you left the body double role.”

Julian turned red.

“Why thank you.” Cheyenne giggled loudly. “I swear, this is the friendliest bunch I’ve ever met.” She shifted her body to include more targets. When she reached out to touch another man’s biceps, a commotion sounded by the stage.

“Excuse me,” a strong voice intoned. Cheyenne froze, as did a thousand or so others, as Julian jumped off the stage and stomped to them. He stopped before her, looming like an avenging warrior from a bestselling thriller. “Destiny, I need you. Now.”

Well, crap.

“Twelve shirts, seven pairs of pants and eight jackets,” Cheyenne hissed to the hapless clerk at the laundromat, playing every bit the part of disgruntled police detective and none at all of helpful personal assistant.

The freckled teenager gingerly reached for the receipt. “Was the service okay?”

Cheyenne sighed. Perfect. Now she was lashing out at innocent kids. “Everything is fine. I just got into an argument with an avenging warrior and lost. Temporarily.” She put a twenty-dollar bill in the tip jar.

The boy smiled gratefully and ran off to retrieve the clothing. He carried them in three trips before helping her out to the limo. Cheyenne would’ve much preferred to take her own car, but Julian had insisted she take his. No doubt so he could keep tabs on her.

The kid hefted the last load into her trunk and closed it. “I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong, especially since Mr. Starcroft cancelled his normal delivery today.”

Normal delivery? Cancelled? “I’m sorry?”

“We usually deliver Mr. Starcroft’s clothing directly to his home, but we received a message that you were picking them up instead. I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t a reason.”

Oh, there was a reason all right, but it had nothing to do with the dry cleaning and everything to do with one very infuriating movie star. “No reason,” she gritted out.

“Great! Well, have a nice day then.”

Nice day? Not even close. After the dry cleaning, she stopped by his accountant, his lawyer, his pool cleaning service and then half a dozen additional locations for random errands. And at each one, the story was the same: the regularly scheduled service had been canceled. To top it off, she ran each errand in the ridiculous costume, which garnered more than a few stares. She donned a jacket, which didn’t do much, and by the time afternoon came she was deciding how many crimes she could charge him with. A lot.

She was about to embark on yet another dry-cleaning run (seriously, who had three dry cleaners?) when her phone buzzed with a text message. Return to the convention center.–J

Cheyenne gritted her teeth. No explanation or even a please – he simply gave a command and assumed it would be followed. He was used to people obeying his every whim. It would serve him right if she ignored him.

But… she would sabotage her mission if she did. She needed to get back as soon as possible to where a criminal was recruiting na?ve women to join his little business. She texted back, On my way.

When she told the limo driver about the change in plans, he just smiled and said he’d already been informed. Of course. She should probably consider it a courtesy Julian told her instead of just spiriting her wherever his heart desired.

That was going to end. He was not in control of her. As soon as she got back to the center, she would resume her quest to entice every guy there. Every guy, that was, except Julian Starcroft.