Page 100 of Breakneck
The connection bleeped as Paris’s bodyguard joined the conversation. “Mr. Olivier doesn’t wish to change locations. We’re pushing through them.”
I sighed. Mr. Olivier ordered, and he would get his way. “Kim, secure a corridor for us. Mr. Olivier’s team is thirty seconds behind you. Lothair and I will slow down to give you time. When do you want us to get out?”
Kim’s car was already driving around us. “One and a half to two minutes from now,” he replied. “We don’t want to give them time to regroup.”
“Got it. Slowing down.”
The first car parked right in front of the building, and the crowd swarmed it immediately, moving away from the front door. Kim and a couple of other guys from our team got out. The people looked disappointed and confused, not finding whom they’d expected. Then Paris’s security team parked in front of them, causing another wave of excitement and disappointment, once more drawing the people away from our path.
When the seven men in dark suits began creating a corridor for us, it took a while for the fans and paparazzi to understand what was going on. Timing was everything. If we gave them too little time, the path to the main door wouldn’t be clear. If we gave them too much time, the fans would notice us, and the paparazzi would regroup.
Lothair and I exited our car first, with Paris and his main man right behind us. The team surrounded us, pushing through the swarm that was swiftly moving back to block the main door.
The screams were deafening.
“What the actual fuck,” Lothair muttered, looking a little dazed.
Paris moved forward single-mindedly with his head down, shielded by his bodyguard’s massive form. He was used to this type of attention way more than Lothair was. Lothair had fans too, just not the screaming kind who would throw themselves at him or faint at the sight of him.
Someone grappled at my suit, but Kim pushed them away.
It took a mere ten seconds from the opening of the car door to the building’s red-faced doorman locking us inside. Two of Paris’s team remained outside, blocking theentrance to the building and threatening the mob with the police, who were hopefully on their way.
“Holy shit. What was that?” Lothair glanced back, visibly shaken.
“The downside of hanging out with me,” Paris said, smiling wanly.
His bodyguard stood close behind him with one hand on Paris’s shoulder in a way that seemed just a little too intimate. He wore a murderous scowl as he assessed our new surroundings.
The roar of the crowd outside was muted here but not lessening in intensity.
“We need to move before they break in,” he said.
Paris began walking toward the elevators, and we followed.
“I can hear the sirens already. We’re okay for the night,” Kim said. “But we’ll need an exit strategy in the morning.”
“The garages,” Paris’s bodyguard said. I’d spent three evenings in the man’s company and still didn’t know his name.
Paris disappeared into his part of the condo as soon as we arrived, but his bodyguard stayed long enough to make it clear he blamed us for what had happened.
“On our side, Mr. Olivier and I were the only ones who knew about this location,” he said, looking at me expectantly.
“I understand. We’ll sort this out. You have my word.”
Holding my gaze, he gave me a grim nod. Then he turned around and stalked in the direction of Paris’s rooms.
Lothair sighed. “I’ll call Carlos.”
I sat on the sofa and unscrewed one of the water bottles prepared on the coffee table. I couldn’t wait to go to bed and wrap myself around my mate.
“How did it leak?” Lothair was pacing around the living room, his phone to his ear. “Who else knew, then?”
Carlos’s reply was unintelligible to me, but the dismissive tone of his voice came through loud and clear.
“We’re doing it for the press, not for getting attacked in the street!” Lothair shouted.
I gestured for him to give me the phone. He glared but handed it to me.
