Courting Trouble (Reality Romance Book 5) Read Online Free
Author: Lizzie Shane
but the vibe in the air was off. All business.
“There! See? Someone is clearly piggy-backing the signal.” Candy tapped something on the screen as Adam clicked the door shut behind him and she spoke without taking her gaze away from the computer. “Hey, Dylan. One sec and Max is all yours.”
Adam wasn’t surprised she knew who had knocked—the wall of video monitors in front of her linked to all the cameras she’d set up in the house. There was nowhere to sit, so he found a patch of wall that wasn’t supporting a tower of equipment and leaned against it, folding his arms.
Max straightened, frowning down at the screen. “We don’t have enough of our ear-buds to outfit all of the show’s regular security with them. Can you do something to their comms to upgrade their encryption so whoever is listening in can’t do it anymore?”
Candy lifted an ancient looking headset, disgust plain on her face. “I’ll see what I can do. If they weren’t such bargain basement Radio Shack crap I could do more, but MMP obviously wasn’t spending the big bucks on their security gear.”
“Do what you can,” Max instructed. “We have to play nice with their security on this one.”
“Even if they don’t know what the hell they’re doing,” Candy muttered, her attention already diverted by the problem in front of her.
Max turned to Adam, snagging his suit jacket and shrugging into it. “Come on. Let’s find somewhere we can talk where we won’t disturb Candy.”
Adam silently trailed his boss up the stairs and down a long hallway. Max was only a year older than Adam himself, but he’d already built from scratch and sold-off one multi-million dollar company before deciding to launch Elite Protection, a personal bodyguard service for the crème-de-la-crème of Hollywood. The celebs at this event were more D-list than Elite’s usual carefully cultivated clientele, but Adam had heard that the pretty blonde wedding planner running around the mansion was Max’s sister.
Like everything in this town, it all came down to who you knew.
Max opened a door and waved Adam into the upstairs study before following and shutting the door behind him. Adam looked around the lavishly appointed room, seeing none of it as he wondered whether he would still have a job when he walked out of it.
Max cut right to the chase. “Would you care to explain to me why I got yelled at by Sandy Newton this morning?”
Cassandra Newton. Box Office Gold. Top of the A-List for over a decade. The rare movie star who had transitioned fifteen years ago from being America’s rom-com sweetheart to perennial Oscar nominee without missing a step.
And bane of his existence.
“I turned down a job,” Adam said simply. When getting his ass chewed, he’d learned from experience that simplicity was best.
“So I gathered,” Max said dryly, taking a seat on the couch and waving him toward one of the large armchairs. “Apparently you also informed one of the biggest stars in Hollywood that you were booked solid for the next month and would not be able to take any job she had for you for the foreseeable future.”
Adam sat, rigid with tension. “It wasn’t for her—”
“It was for her daughter. I’m aware.”
“She wanted me on the red carpet with her at the premiere of some big summer blockbuster. That’s not security. It’s a publicity stunt.”
“Of course it is,” Max said, without turning a hair. “You saved little Cassie’s life and now she wants to show off her hero.”
“My job is to protect people. Not to be a show pony.”
“Your job is both,” Max said, blunt and unsympathetic. “Clients come to us—and pay our astronomical fees—because we’re more than just security. We’re image enhancement. Our clients want Tank and Cross because they want to be guarded by former Pro-Bowl athletes. They want Pretty Boy because he’s not just a black-belt, he’s a model, and in this town there’s status in having the most
“There! See? Someone is clearly piggy-backing the signal.” Candy tapped something on the screen as Adam clicked the door shut behind him and she spoke without taking her gaze away from the computer. “Hey, Dylan. One sec and Max is all yours.”
Adam wasn’t surprised she knew who had knocked—the wall of video monitors in front of her linked to all the cameras she’d set up in the house. There was nowhere to sit, so he found a patch of wall that wasn’t supporting a tower of equipment and leaned against it, folding his arms.
Max straightened, frowning down at the screen. “We don’t have enough of our ear-buds to outfit all of the show’s regular security with them. Can you do something to their comms to upgrade their encryption so whoever is listening in can’t do it anymore?”
Candy lifted an ancient looking headset, disgust plain on her face. “I’ll see what I can do. If they weren’t such bargain basement Radio Shack crap I could do more, but MMP obviously wasn’t spending the big bucks on their security gear.”
“Do what you can,” Max instructed. “We have to play nice with their security on this one.”
“Even if they don’t know what the hell they’re doing,” Candy muttered, her attention already diverted by the problem in front of her.
Max turned to Adam, snagging his suit jacket and shrugging into it. “Come on. Let’s find somewhere we can talk where we won’t disturb Candy.”
Adam silently trailed his boss up the stairs and down a long hallway. Max was only a year older than Adam himself, but he’d already built from scratch and sold-off one multi-million dollar company before deciding to launch Elite Protection, a personal bodyguard service for the crème-de-la-crème of Hollywood. The celebs at this event were more D-list than Elite’s usual carefully cultivated clientele, but Adam had heard that the pretty blonde wedding planner running around the mansion was Max’s sister.
Like everything in this town, it all came down to who you knew.
Max opened a door and waved Adam into the upstairs study before following and shutting the door behind him. Adam looked around the lavishly appointed room, seeing none of it as he wondered whether he would still have a job when he walked out of it.
Max cut right to the chase. “Would you care to explain to me why I got yelled at by Sandy Newton this morning?”
Cassandra Newton. Box Office Gold. Top of the A-List for over a decade. The rare movie star who had transitioned fifteen years ago from being America’s rom-com sweetheart to perennial Oscar nominee without missing a step.
And bane of his existence.
“I turned down a job,” Adam said simply. When getting his ass chewed, he’d learned from experience that simplicity was best.
“So I gathered,” Max said dryly, taking a seat on the couch and waving him toward one of the large armchairs. “Apparently you also informed one of the biggest stars in Hollywood that you were booked solid for the next month and would not be able to take any job she had for you for the foreseeable future.”
Adam sat, rigid with tension. “It wasn’t for her—”
“It was for her daughter. I’m aware.”
“She wanted me on the red carpet with her at the premiere of some big summer blockbuster. That’s not security. It’s a publicity stunt.”
“Of course it is,” Max said, without turning a hair. “You saved little Cassie’s life and now she wants to show off her hero.”
“My job is to protect people. Not to be a show pony.”
“Your job is both,” Max said, blunt and unsympathetic. “Clients come to us—and pay our astronomical fees—because we’re more than just security. We’re image enhancement. Our clients want Tank and Cross because they want to be guarded by former Pro-Bowl athletes. They want Pretty Boy because he’s not just a black-belt, he’s a model, and in this town there’s status in having the most
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