Page 99 of Take Hold of Me

Wills

Ihustleover to the Jeep and put it in drive, Rinaldo’s car already a speck on the horizon. While I close the gap, my mind replays everything he just said. With his salary plus endorsements, Rinaldo’s net worth must be in the tens of millions, if not more. Which makes his purchase of a Mercedes-Maybach S650 equivalent to my buying a cup of coffee at Starbucks.Life has taught me the measure of a man isn’t by his bank account. But it still grates.

My teeth maul my inner cheek for the rest of the drive.

When I reach the house where the party is being held, Rinaldo has already given his keys to the valet. “House” is an understatement. It’s one of those places that looks like a resort. An oversized fountain sits at the top of the long, circular drive. Geez. Probably only two people live here, maybe one weekend a quarter.

Two other cars managed to get ahead of me, so I can do nothing but wait my turn and watch the couple making their way to the front door. Ems stands next to Rinaldo, her hand enveloped in his. Even after all the self-talk I did on the way over here, my blood rises to a low simmer.

They wave at the large assembly of paparazzi lining the entrance. Emilie’s head turns to the side and the couple stands next to each other. Rinaldo’s arm snakes around her shoulders. My blood heats another notch.

Although my windows are closed and the air is blasting, I can see their lips moving as they answer whatever inane questions I can only imagine. Finally, the valet moves another car so only one more is ahead of me.

From this distance, Ems and Rinaldo seem animated. They touch each other like they’ve been doing it for years. Well, haven’t they? Her hand lands on his chest, like it knows just where to fall. He plays with a lock of her silky hair. My inner temperature raises to a boil.

The couple ahead of me manages to get out of their car. Good. Maybe they’ll divert attention away from my girlfriend. I recognize them as crew members. While they’re important to the functioning of the movie, they won’t exactly garner too much press attention. My fingers bang on the steering wheel, desperate to get out of the vehicle.

Ems and Rinaldo take a few more steps. He nods at something being said, then he turns and captures Ems in a full-on embrace. Without warning, his lips descend on hers. A raging boil overtakes my body.

A horn honks.

My eyes leave the happy couple to land on my palm, which is smack in the center of the steering wheel. Removing my hand from the horn, I open my door, not even waiting for the valet to motion me forward. I toss him my keys and go to where I last saw Rinaldo and Ems. But they’ve already disappeared inside.

My legs eat up the ground from my Jeep to the front door, nary a papp glancing at me. Once inside, I give my eyes a second to adjust to the lighting and do a sweep of my surroundings. The marble two-story foyer entrance is lined with servers holding trays of different glasses. Flutes, pilsners, martinis. Pick your poison.

I choose a vodka martini and knock it back. Even though I’m supposed to be “on duty,” I need to take the edge off or I’m likely to do something stupid.

Walking into a huge room filled with people, I catch snippets of conversations as I circulate, trying to locate Ems.

“Great job.”

“She was so surprising.”

“Positive press.”

Whatever. I’m not here for the social atmosphere. I assess each person as non-threatening and move on. Finally. My eyes land on Emilie, who is surrounded by a group of people, mainly men. The director’s there too. So is Rinaldo.

I deposit my glass on a table and make my way toward her. No threats. Except for Rinaldo’s arm thrown over her shoulder.

When I get as close to her as I can—I’m her bodyguard after all—I circle around the group. All clear. Not that I expected any danger. I pull up to a wall behind Rinaldo. His hand is in constant motion. Playing with her hair. Caressing her shoulder. Dropping downward to her waist.

She steps away from him slightly. A covert move, but I noticed. Ignoring her reaction, his legs shift like he’s dribbling a soccer ball and rests when they’re hip to hip.

I can’t break his leg. It’s probably insured for ten million.

Emilie steps forward to attract the attention of a passing server and hands him her empty champagne flute. Rinaldo gives the server his glass, then takes both of her hands in his. With a flick of his wrists, he pulls her to him.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m next to them. Pitching my voice low, I warn him, “You can stop now, Rinaldo. There are no cameras in here.”

Emilie’s light touch to my shoulder calms my temper like an all-clear. “It is okay, Wills.” She leans toward me, whispering, “Some reporters were allowed in for a few minutes to write positive press about the movie. The director asked that we play up the fake romance angle to garner more interest in the film. It is all part of the business—a part I plan on leaving behind after tonight.”

My eyes close as I accept defeat. Opening them, I look directly at Rinaldo. “I’m right behind you,” I say, and then melt behind them. Where I belong.

I spend the next half-hour “holding up walls,” as FPU so derisively put it. When I can’t control images of dismembering the Spanish douche any longer, I choose to step away and clear my head.

On the patio, people mill around—talking, drinking, smoking. Probably doing other shit, too. Whatever. I run down the marble steps into a manicured lawn and inhale the fresh, clean LA air. At least the city’s equivalent.

I need to talk with Ems about her public appearances. I’m not a part of this lifestyle, and if we want to stay together, we have to find a way to make this work. Because it’s not working for me right now. At all.

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