Page 4 of Unguarded

I’ve only ever gone out with celebrities, movie stars, comedians, and—the worst of them all—musicians, like me. I’ve been in love once, and aside from Clint, the sex with all of them has mostly been subpar—atbest. Zade and I have been intimate a handful of times due to our incredibly busy schedules and typically being in different states, countries, or sometimes continents for work. The most recent instance was actually last week after he flew home from a photo shoot withVoguein London for the next installment of the Bond remakes. I didn’t finish, and he talked about his film set for two hours straight in bed. He kept mentioning his costar, who is a tall, gorgeous, thin brunette and poised and proper with an English accent—the exact opposite of me in every possible way. She comes from a very posh English family who he can’t wait to meet at the premiere. His adoring tone made me wonder if he was obsessed with her.

He’s probably cheating.

I can’t seem to rustle up enough emotion to care, but I will be pissed if he slept with her and slept with me after. Informed consent is not a joke.

The party is packedwith A-listers. Zade wasn’t kidding about the theme. My neon-pink leather minidress with a deep V-neck offers more coverage than half of the other guests’ outfits.

I’m three dirty martinis deep when my phone vibrates in my hand. I look down to see Ember’s name pop up.

Ember

Willis’s assistant just called. They agreed to double his offer, but they want you to present it to him. I think they mean with your boobs out.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Fuck. That.

Since when do I take orders?

I look around for Zade and spot his slicked-back man bun. He’s over by the DJ booth, animatedly chatting with one of his former costars. She’s tall and slim with long blonde hair up in a smooth, high ponytail.

I make my way over to him. My security detail for the night trails behind me. There’s only one of them here, and I don’t know his name yet because he’s newer. Even in a sea of other stars, sometimes, there can be crazies. After what happened in Texas, I don’t take any chances.

“Zade.” I tap his arm.

He turns to me. His eyes are distant and glassy. He’s clearly drunk, probably high too.

“Hey, lovely. You remember Monat? She was my costar inThe Pilot’s Daughter.” He smiles, rubbing his hand up her side.

I watch the movement of his hand on her bare skin before my eyes meet hers. “Hi, Monat. Nice to see you again.”

I turn to my boyfriend. “I’m going home.”

I spin on my heel, not giving him time to respond. He calls after me, but I keep walking. Breaking up with him needs to be more calculated than when he’s drunk and I’m tipsy at a party. Everyone has a camera these days, and even other celebrities aren’t above capturing a juicy breakup moment to go viral and earn a bump in cultural relevance.

The decision to end things with him is suddenly so clear to me. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to get here. I’ll need to consult my publicist, Katherine, for the best way to go about it.

“Can you call Harold?” I ask my bodyguard.

He nods, dialing my driver. I rode here with Zade in his Lamborghini, but Harold always comes when I call. I pay him accordingly for the service. The bodyguard gives Harold our location as he and I walk out the front door of the mansion. There are a few sports cars idling outside, and it’s way too cold to be out here in the dress I’m wearing. I don’t care. I’m afraid of what kind of scene I’ll make if I see Zade feeling up another actress.

I inspect my new bodyguard as he hangs up the phone. He’s about six foot two and muscular. He looks young, around twenty-five. He stands up straight, looking around the expansive front garden and the line of sports cars parked in the long, circular driveway. His black suit fits him nicely.

“What’s your name?” I ask him.

“Brooks,” he says, eyes flicking to mine briefly before resuming his inspection of the area.

I exhale, pulling out my phone. “What convinced you to take a job like this, Brooks?”

He looks confused by my question, a small frown on his mouth. “Um, I’m not sure what you mean, miss.”

“Like, why did you want to be a bodyguard? You have to travel a lot, the hours suck, and it’s dangerous. Why are you doing it?” I nearly stumble and fall in my tall heels.

He reaches out a hand to steady me, gripping my elbow. “I was honorably discharged from the Army, but I wasn’t ready to settle into some office job with my dad’s company. My goal is the Secret Service, but I need experience for that.”

“You don’t have bodyguard experience?”

He shakes his head.

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