Chapter 3: The Room for a Cat

I had several questions ready when I arrived at the studio.

Adrian ruined all of them by looking pleased to see me.

He was standing outside his dressing room in a camel-colored coat, listening to a man from production explain a schedule change. His face was polite and distant.

Then he saw me.

His attention left the producer so completely that the poor man finished his sentence talking to the side of Adrian’s head.

“Morning, Cole.”

I suddenly remembered the elevator story.

“Morning.”

He looked beneath my eyes.

“Did you sleep?”

“Enough.”

“That wasn’t convincing.”

Neither was the smile I gave him.

He thanked the producer, waited until the man left, and reached toward my collar. This time I caught his wrist before he could straighten anything.

“My shirt’s fine.”

“I was going to check your bruise.”

“Through the collar?”

His gaze flickered.

Then he smiled.

“You’re sharper before breakfast.”

“I’ve eaten.”

“Good. Then you can sleep.”

He opened his dressing-room door and nodded toward a narrow sofa.

I looked at the sofa, then at him.

“You have work.”

“I’ll be on a closed set with security. Grace has your number if she needs you.”

“I’m not being paid to nap.”

“You’re being paid to notice things. You’ll do that better when you can keep your eyes open.”

Annoyingly, he had a point.

I’d spent too much of the night checking whether other people had written equally inaccurate stories about us. There were dozens. I had learned several new expressions and regretted all of them.

Adrian watched me consider it.

“An hour,” he said. “You can criticize my judgment afterward.”

“I don’t need permission for that.”

“I’m beginning to understand.”

He left me a bottle of water and closed the door quietly.

I meant to rest my eyes for ten minutes.

When I woke, someone was saying that Adrian was unreasonable.

Marcus Shaw was leaning against the makeup counter.

I recognized him from a crime series Lucy had watched. He was broad, confident, and an alpha who wore his designation the same way some men wore watches: prominently, with the expectation that everyone would be impressed.

Adrian sat in front of the mirror while a makeup artist cleaned a brush.

“He’s not equipment,” Adrian said.

“I didn’t say he was.”

“You said you wanted to borrow him.”

“For two days.”

I sat up.

Both men looked at me.

For one embarrassing second, I wondered whether I’d interrupted something personal. Then Marcus pointed directly at me.

“There he is. You’re free Thursday and Friday, aren’t you?”

“I’d have to check my schedule.”

“Adrian isn’t working.”

“That doesn’t make Cole available to you.”

Adrian’s voice had gone cool.

Marcus looked from him to me, then smiled in a way I didn’t like.

“I’ll let you wake up.”

He left.

I stood and stretched, feeling the bruise pull.

Adrian’s gaze followed the movement before returning to his reflection.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Two hours.”

“You said one.”

“You needed two.”

I should have argued.

Instead, I drank the water he’d left and realized there was a sandwich beside it.

He’d remembered I liked extra mustard.

That wasn’t helping with the questions.

Marcus found me in the corridor later.

He offered a rate, explained the event, and complained about his current security team. None of it sounded complicated.

The rate was excellent.

Adrian paid better, but two days of additional work would cover the car repair I’d been avoiding.

“I won’t leave my employer short,” I told him. “If the days are clear and the assignment checks out, I can consider it.”

Marcus handed me his phone.

We exchanged numbers.

That was all.

Unfortunately, Adrian seemed able to turn all into quite a lot.

Back in the dressing room, he looked at my phone, then my face.

“Did Marcus make you an offer?”

“He asked about temporary coverage.”

“And you said?”

“That I’d check.”

Adrian set down his script.

“He enjoys asking for things that belong to other people.”

“I don’t belong to anybody.”

His expression changed immediately.

“I know.”

“Then say he’s trying to hire someone who already has a job.”

For a moment, he looked almost sheepish.

It was effective.

I wished he’d stop being effective.

“I’d prefer to keep you available,” he said. “We can discuss a retainer for days when I don’t have appearances.”

I folded my arms.

“You’re offering to pay me not to work for him?”

“I’m offering to pay you to work for me.”

“That’s a very polished distinction.”

“I’ve had media training.”

A laugh escaped before I could stop it.

His shoulders eased.

We agreed that Grace would review the schedule and any exclusivity arrangement. I sent Marcus a message saying I couldn’t commit yet.

Adrian looked satisfied enough to annoy me.

I told myself he valued competent security.

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

On the drive home, he mentioned someone had been following him near his building.

I sat straighter.

“When?”

“A few days ago. Possibly longer.”

“Did you report it?”

“Building management knows.”

“What did they find?”

“I’m waiting for the details.”

His thumb moved over the edge of his phone. He was looking out the window now, and the earlier amusement had disappeared.

I thought of Lucy at nineteen, calling me because a stranger had followed her from the grocery store. I’d been ten minutes away.

Ten minutes was a long time when you were waiting behind a locked door.

“Do you live alone?”

Adrian nodded.

“Any private security at the apartment?”

“Building staff. The lobby is secure.”

“What about the garage?”

He looked at me.

“I don’t know.”

I didn’t like that answer.

We were nearing the turnoff for my neighborhood when I told Ben to keep going.

Adrian turned fully toward me.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking your place.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. I want to see the entrances and review whatever footage management has.”

He was quiet for a moment.

Then he said, “Would you stay until we know what’s happening?”

I glanced at him.

He didn’t touch my arm or smile. Somehow that made the request harder to dismiss.

“Short-term,” I said. “And Grace needs to adjust the contract.”

“Of course.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

I asked Ben to stop at my apartment first.

My mother saw the overnight bag and immediately misunderstood.

“You’re staying somewhere?”

“With work.”

She looked disappointed.

“That sounded hopeful for a second.”

“Please don’t make my employment romantic.”

“I’m allowed to dream.”

While I packed, she told me about a friend’s daughter, then another friend’s nephew, then somebody she’d met at a community fundraiser who had excellent manners.

Apparently excellent manners were enough to qualify someone for marriage.

“Send me the details,” I said, mostly to end the conversation.

“You never answer them.”

“I’m busy.”

“You’re twenty-seven, Cole. You’re allowed to be busy and have someone like you.”

I pulled the zipper closed.

For some reason, that sentence stayed with me all the way back to the car.

Adrian looked at the bag when I got in.

“Everything okay?”

“My mother thinks I need a relationship.”

His eyes lifted to mine.

“Do you?”

“I think I need a reliable mechanic.”

He laughed, then moved his coat off the seat so my bag could rest beside him.

His apartment occupied the top floor of a building that made my own place look like a storage unit.

The view was impressive.

So were the locks.

I checked those first.

Adrian showed me the alarm controls and gave me temporary access. I walked through the rooms, examined the balcony door, and made a list of questions for management.

There were three bedrooms.

That seemed straightforward.

Then he told me I’d be sleeping in his.

I stopped in the hallway.

“There’s a bedroom right there.”

“My parents use it.”

“Are they coming?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then I’ll use it and change the sheets.”

“They’re particular about their space.”

I stared at him long enough that he looked away.

Fine.

I pointed at the next door.

“What about that one?”

“It’s for the cat.”

I looked into the room.

There was a rug, an empty chair, and sunlight falling across the floor. No litter box. No scratching post. No evidence of anything that had ever had fur.

“Where’s the cat?”

Adrian leaned against the doorframe.

“I haven’t bought it yet.”

I waited for him to laugh.

He didn’t.

“You’re reserving an entire bedroom for an animal you don’t own?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds unreasonable.”

“How else would you like me to say it?”

His mouth curved, and there it was again: that private amusement he never seemed to use on anyone else.

“I’d like you to put your bag in my room.”

I glanced toward the living room.

“I can take the couch.”

“It’s too short for you.”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“I’m not trying to give you a worse place.”

He stepped closer, still leaving enough room for me to move past him.

That made me stay where I was.

My gaze caught on the open collar of his shirt before I managed to bring it back to his face.

This was becoming a problem.

He noticed. Of course he noticed.

“The bed is large,” he said. “And you can tell me to keep my distance.”

“You make that sound like something I’ll need to do.”

“Only if you want to.”

I tightened my grip on the bag.

Down the hall, his bedroom door stood open. I could see the corner of a wide bed and a lamp already switched on beside it.

Adrian watched me look.

Then he took the bag gently from my hand.

“Come on, Cole,” he said. “Tonight, you’re sleeping in my bed.”