“There’s a giant man.” I glanced at the front door. “He’s at my front door. Says his name’s Zeke something or another and that I should call you.”
Trent’s calm, laid-back tone shifted instantly. “Was there a problem?”
“Well, he just chased some other guy off my front porch. He was asking a million questions about you and me and—”
“Take a breath, pet.”
I snapped my lips shut and inhaled through my nose. “What’s going on, Trent?”
“It was bound to happen,” he explained. “It appears the paparazzi have gotten wind of our lunch meeting last week and now they’re interested in finding out who you are.”
I was pretty sure my heart stopped. My knees went weak and I dropped onto the couch. “That was a reporter?”
“Yes. Hence the reason Zeke’s there. He’s a friend of mine. I called in a favor this morning when I learned— It doesn’t matter.”
My brain was overloaded with so much information. “Who is Zeke?”
“He’s your new bodyguard.”
“My what?”
Trent
“YOU CAN TRUST HIM, CLARISSA,” I said as I steered my car toward the entrance to Devotion. “If you want to let him in, you can. Otherwise, he’ll remain outside to ensure no one else gets to your front door. If you leave, he’s going to follow you. It’s for your own safety.”
“Trent…” Clarissa sighed. “We really need to talk.”
“We will, sunshine. I’ll call you back in a bit, I promise.”
“You better.”
With a smile on my face, I punched the button to end the call.
As I pulled into Devotion’s parking lot, waiting for the security gates to close behind me, I subtly glanced over at the man sitting in the passenger seat. Troy had seemed shocked that I’d opted to pull this car out of the garage. Possibly more so than when I’d invited him to visit the club. Then again, he should know better by now. When it came to my cars, I didn’t sit around and stare at them. They were made to drive; therefore, I drove them.
Granted, I’d only had this one for a couple of weeks. I wasn’t sure what made me splurge on it, but I had. I figured it had more to do with that whole crossroads thing. I was trying to buy my own happiness and we all knew that would never work.
In fact, I found my assistant far more appealing than the car.
It was getting easier to admit my interest in him. At least to myself, anyway. I’d first felt it about a year ago, but I’d been pushing it aside, pretending it wasn’t real. The more time that went by, the stronger the urge was.
“Is Clarissa gonna be all right?” Troy asked, his eyes swinging over to me.
Realizing the gates had closed, I pulled forward and into the underground garage, parking near the back-entrance door.
“Yes. Zeke will keep an eye on her.”
“You think it’s necessary to have a bodyguard on her?” He sounded curious.
I glanced at him as I shut off the engine. “I do.” I smirked. “But don’t worry, you’ve got one now, too.”
“What?” He frowned, scrambling out of the car as I climbed out. “Why me?”
“Because it’s necessary,” I told him, not wanting to go into detail.
“Because of TMZ?” he inquired.
“Partially. Now, come on.” I motioned toward the door.
Troy’s gaze scanned the empty garage. I assumed he was looking for his new bodyguard.
“He’s not here yet, but he’s on his way. They flew in from Chicago a little while ago,” I explained, leaving him behind.
Troy was quick to follow, and I wondered why I hadn’t bothered bringing him into this side of my world sooner. He was a phenomenal assistant, but more so a trustworthy employee. In all the time we’d worked together, never had we dealt with any sort of scandal. I took that as a good sign considering I’d had plenty of those with previous assistants.
I guess that was why—before Troy—I hadn’t much cared for them. Oh, sure, they helped to make my day-to-day a hell of a lot easier, but in my experience, there were two types of assistants. Ones like Hilda, who had worked for me for four solid years, back in the beginning of my career. She was the type who made sure I was aware she was employed by me, not there to be my friend or to have casual conversation. It hadn’t been too bad, but considering the amount of time she spent with me, it got rather old talking to myself.
Of course, the media accused me of paying Hilda below minimum wage and abusing my power. When it came time for her to deny the accusations, Hilda had clammed up, insisting it was no one’s business. Although she could’ve easily cleared my name, I had respected her right to privacy. When she handed in her resignation because the media circus had become more than she could bear, I had accepted without argument.
