Page 43 of Last First Kiss
“This isn’t exactly the kind of job someone in a relationship can have.”
She turned her head, and looked out the window. “No, I suppose it’s not. But that’s not really a question.”
“Yeah, you’re right, it’s not. How would the man in your life fit into your lifestyle?”
“Hmm . . .” She thought it out. “I’m not really sure.”
“Okay, fair enough. How come you left the Army?”
“That’s a second question.”
“Yes, you’re good with numbers.”
She turned her head. “Ha ha. Listen, today is going to be important. Our first real public outing. You need to stay near me at all times.”
Obviously she was not going to tell him about the Army since she completely changed the subject.
“And you have to remember that today you have to pretend to be mine the entire time.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, Annabelle. If we’re doing the professional thing right now, then let me remind you, I hired you because I wanted you to blend in, not stick out. You are my date, not my bodyguard. You do whatever you want to keep me safe, but you do it subtly. Remember, everything you do is being scrutinized. There’s paparazzi everywhere.”
“I wanted to do a quick sweep,” she said, in a cute way, almost whining. There even seemed to be a pout.
He laughed humorlessly, opening the door and stepping out. No fucking way was that happening. “Rocco,” she grunted as she stepped out of the car, his hand extended to her.
“Smile, Tiger. There’s the paparazzi,” he whispered in her ear, his mouth going a little too close to her neck. He saw how quickly she erupted in goose bumps. That made him come up with a plan. If he was going to be with Annie for the next few hours pretending to date, he was going to ham it up. Maybe she’d see him as someone worth taking a chance on. Maybe he could loosen her up enough to talk about that virgin thing.
With the newly formed plan, he placed his arm tight around her waist bringing her closer than necessary as the flashes and lights attacked them. With a fake smile she whispered, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Monroe?”
“Working, Tiger.”
“No. I’m working. You’re trying to cop a cheap feel.”
He stopped as they were about to step into the hotel where the gala was taking place. He turned to her and roughly pulled her flush against his chest. “This is my job. My job is to act. My job is to flirt with the cameras. Give them what they want. Sell tickets. You’re my prop today. So you do your work, but don’t let it interfere with mine.” He kissed the corner of her lips. She looked completely and utterly discombobulated. Maybe his girl liked a little roughness and maybe she liked having him take charge sometimes.
* * *
What the hell was wrong with him?
She was going to kick his ass if he didn’t stop trying to manhandle her. If they weren’t up to their eyeballs in paparazzi, she’d twist his arm and arm bar his ass. When he’d first seen her half an hour ago, she had forgotten for a minute that this was work. He looked so sexy in his black tuxedo and the way he looked at her made her want to forget it all. It made her want to be the delicate woman who worried about garter belts and fake eyelashes just so he could always look at her the same way.
But then he’d asked about her gun and they’d gone back to business.
She stayed close to him as he introduced her to people she’d seen on television a dozen times and tried not to act starstruck. He also introduced her to people she’d never heard of, except from her research the last week.
Joey had sent her a copy of the list of invites, and she’d looked each and every person up. Computers were her forte, and it didn’t take long to go into most of the hundred or so guests’ emails, bank accounts, and social media. Nothing seemed off, so she wasn’t too worried. The open venue, the shit oad of paparazzi, and the straggling fans hanging outside were what concerned her most. Also, there was a small gathering of protestors on the east corner of the street, but it seemed to be only about seven or so people and they were all holding signs and staying away. ICS had sent some men to keep an eye on that group, and as far she could tell, it was still under control.
They were standing by the bar when Julia and Lawrence approached. “Julia,” Rocco said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and then shaking hands with Lawrence. “Lawrence.”
“Nice to see you again,” Lawrence said, extending his hand to Annie and kissing the top of her palm.
“You too, Lawrence.” And then she turned to Julia. “Hello, Julia.”
“Hello, Annette.”
“It’s Annabelle,” Rocco corrected, his voice curt.
“Oh, sorry. Annabelle,” the starlet said sourly, and smiled disingenuously at Annie.
When they turned to greet others, Annie whispered to Rocco. “Seriously? She’s a cunt. How could you possibly ever have dated her?”
