Page 2 of Steal My Breath Away

“Dante was the real draw,” I said. “And it’s not like we had regular gigs. It was a nice-to-have add-on to my regular schedule, and to be honest, I was wondering how I’d keep it up with all the open mics I’m planning to do this fall.” I didn’t like lying to Skye, but she was head over heels in love with Dante, and I didn’t want her to feel any guilt about him leaving the band to follow his dreams.

A rich baritone voice interrupted our conversation. “What does a guy have to do to get a drink around here?”

I looked over to see Jason Roach, one of the university’s top basketball players, at the counter. Skye grinned and greeted him with a high five. She knew all the ballers on campus from the year she spent playing on the women’s basketball team. After she’d been badly injured in a road accident, she’d been forced to give up her dream of making it to the WNBA and embrace her passion for journalism instead.

Jason smiled and reached over to high-five me, too. He was over six foot five, slim, with blue eyes and thick brown hair. We’d met at a bar the previous year, but our conversation had been cut short when Skye’s roommate, Isla, had hustled some guys at pool, and we were forced to make a hasty exit.

“I remember you,” he said. “Haley. Psych major. You wereanalyzing everyone’s personality. You told me I had attachment issues.”

Cringe.I’d come to Havencrest with no idea what I wanted to study. My mother had pushed me toward political science, hoping I would follow her footsteps into a political career. Instead, I’d taken a wide range of courses, including an introductory psychology course, through which I hoped to find a way to understand and process my grief. The subject had clicked with me. I enjoyed the challenge of learning what made people tick and helping them through their issues, although I wasn’t able to apply what I’d learned to me.

“I might have had too much to drink,” I admitted. “Sometimes when the filter isn’t on, I get overly enthusiastic and too many words come out.”

“I saw you singing with Dante’s Inferno at the end of last term,” he said. “You guys were awesome. Are you on any of the frat/soro booking lists? I’m in charge of entertainment for my frat’s first party of the year.”

“The band isn’t taking any more gigs,” I said. “But I take solo bookings. You can look me up online and hear some of my demo tracks.”

Jason made a good effort to hide his disappointment, but I could see it in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks. I’ll take a listen, but we’re looking for the high energy you get with a band. Why don’t you two come to the party? It’s next Saturday and it’s going to be great.”

“Sounds good.” More fake smiles. More aching cheeks. I lifted my hand for another high five. “I’ve never said no to a party. I’ll be there.”

Skye looked over at me with a worried expression after Jason left. “Do you remember the frat party we went to last year? They weren’t good guys, and Jason’s frat is even worse.”

“I remember drinking something purple and highly alcoholic from the bathtub and not much else.” I added the party to thecalendar app Paige had set up on my phone to try and help me stay organized. “You should come. Bring Dante. It’ll be a blast.”

Or at the very least it would take my mind off yet another setback to the shambles that was my music career.

CHAPTER 2Ace

A-list actress Jessica Swanson wanted me in her bed.

I knew this because she’d run off to change into something “more comfortable” after we’d returned to her Beverly Hills mansion. She’d been devastated by her loss at the Academy Awards, and although she’d put in an Oscar-worthy performance at theVanity Fairafterparty, the moment we were safely in the limo, she’d crumpled.

I knew then I was in trouble, and it became crystal clear when she swanned into the living room where I was checking the security system and put her hand on my arm.

For me, “more comfortable” meant ditching the suit and tie and pulling on a pair of track pants and my favorite Chicago Bears jersey. For Jessica, it meant see-through lingerie with nothing underneath.

Jessica fucking Swanson.

In the two years I’d been working as a celebrity bodyguard for Stellar Security, I’d seen clients in all states of undress. I’d been propositioned by actresses and singers multiple times, but I had never crossed that professional line, and I wasn’t about to do it when my client was in an emotional crisis. Most celebrities, I’d discovered, were very lonely people, prone to making inappropriate attachments with anyone who was a solid, stable presence in their life. It was why I never accepted a job with the same client twice or stayed with a client more than my self-imposed limit of six months. It was why I was going to call my boss, Tony, and ask him to reassign me first thing in the morning.

“Ace, have a drink with me.” She tugged on my arm. “It’s beenthe worst night. I can’t believe they gave the Oscar to Sophie Louis. It was totally political.”

“Ma’am.” I gently moved her hand off my arm. “I can’t protect you if I’m distracted or under the influence.”

Jessica twirled her blond hair around her finger and looked up at me with her big blue eyes. She was a very beautiful woman, and her team had spent the last two days glamming her up for the Academy Awards. I didn’t know many men who would turn down an invitation from one of the hottest celebrities in Hollywood, but I was done with hookups and one-night stands. Nothing could fill the black hole in the center of my chest, and I wasn’t interested in trying.

“Don’t call me ma’am.” Her plump lips turned down in a frown. “It makes me feel old. I’m only twenty-nine, and you’re, what? A year or two younger?”

“Twenty-four,” I corrected her. “And your security file said you’re thirty-five.”

“Someone made a mistake.” She wandered over to the marble minibar in the corner of a room ten times the size of the hotel room I’d lived in between this job and the last. “I can’t be over thirty in this industry, or my career will be over. I’ll be stuck playing single mothers and divorcees. I’ve asked Rachel to try and get my birth certificate changed.”

Rachel wasn’t just an agent; she was a Hollywood fixer. I had no doubt she could get the birth certificate changed. There was no problem she couldn’t solve.

Jessica poured herself a shot of vodka, downed it, and poured another. She’d already had a full bottle of champagne at the party. I felt a pang of sympathy for her. I understood all too well the need to self-medicate with alcohol. Despite her star status, Jessica was deeply insecure, and tonight’s loss had cut deep. I didn’t want to add to her feelings of rejection, but she’d lost her sense of boundaries and if I didn’t manage the situation, it would mean trouble for both of us.

“I saw your tattoos the other day when you were working outdownstairs.” She pulled on my sleeve, trying to get me to remove my jacket. “Where did you get them?”

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