Valerie opened the door to a tastefully elegant suite of rooms, complete with chaise longue and an ornate dressing table. It was beautiful, if not necessarily comfortable. Bethany figured it didn’t matter; she probably wouldn’t see much more than the bed anyway. Apart from tonight, her schedule was packed solid for the entirety of her stay. What was left of the evening was her one chance to regroup and refocus. To prepare herself to get through the next few days, until she could get home and take a trip to talk some sense into Megan…
Megan. She really had to call Megan.
‘Would you like me to arrange any entertainment for you for this evening?’ Valerie asked, as Bethany took in the room. ‘The Chatsfield has connections at the best restaurants, theatres, clubs—’
‘No. No, thank you.’ That was the last thing she wanted. Too many people, too much talk, too much noise. Too many pairs of eyes, watching her every move. Besides, it was already getting late, and she was about ready to pass out. Or she would be, if her brain would just stop whirring.
‘Actually, I think I’d rather have a quiet evening in.’ Her gaze flickered almost involuntarily to the figure loitering in the corner. Dylan had the window blind between two fingers, peering outside, apparently unconcerned by their conversation. What was he looking at, anyway?
Valerie followed her line of sight, and gave her a knowing smile. ‘I understand entirely.’
Bethany’s eyes widened. ‘No, I mean, I need to get some sleep. Actual sleep,’ she added when Valerie’s smile grew. ‘Oh never mind.’
‘Don’t worry, Ms Lord. Everyone here at the Chatsfield has signed a confidentiality agreement with regards to our guests. Our discretion is assured.’
Yeah, because that always worked. Bethany knew better than to rely on other people to keep her secrets. Just one more reason she really needed to talk to Megan.
‘Trust me,’ Bethany said, with one last attempt to stop the gossip. ‘I’m not going to be doing anything tonight that requires discretion. All I want is a quiet evening and an early night. Alone.’
‘I understand entirely,’ Valerie said, her tone making it clear that she totally didn’t. ‘Now, if there’s nothing more you need…?’
‘I’m fine, thank you.’ All she needed was to be left alone. Who would have thought that could be so hard?
Valerie backed out of the room, the door clicking closed behind her, and suddenly Bethany was alone with the suit full of muscles.
‘I don’t suppose I can persuade you to leave me alone too, can I?’ She hated feeling uncertain in what should be her own space. All she wanted to do was strip down to her pants, pull on the oversized tee shirt she slept in, and crash out watching trashy TV for the night. She could call room service, maybe have a glass of wine, a bubble bath… whatever she wanted.
But not while he was there, watching her. And not until she’d called Megan.
‘I am contracted to stay by your side and ensure your safety, ma’am.’ His face remained expressionless, as if it made no real odds to him what she did, as long as it didn’t interfere with his pay cheque.
Bethany took a deep breath, and gazed around the suite. Despite its elegant decoration, it lacked the one thing she truly wanted. Doors.
Oh, there was one between the main areas and the bathroom, although Bethany would bet money it didn’t have a lock – no need, really, in a suite like this. But the lounge area, with its low table in front of the uncomfortable looking chaise longue, was open to the bedroom. She could see the king-sized bed, covered in a mountain of cushions, from where she stood. It was extravagant, expensive, luxurious… and open.
She considered Dylan again. There had to be some way she could get rid of him. Even if it was just long enough for her to call Megan. She had no doubt that he would try to make himself unobtrusive, just as Neil had promised. But somehow, her gaze kept being drawn back to him. How was she supposed to relax just knowing he was sitting there, minding her?
‘If you wish, I could wait outside the door,’ Dylan offered, face still impassive. ‘Once I’ve checked all the windows at least. You’re at the front of the hotel here, and the gaggle is still out front, waiting for you.’
‘Of course they are.’ Bethany sank down onto the chaise longue. It was every bit as uncomfortable as it looked. Resting her forearms on her knees she looked up, directly into the mirror that leaned against the wall over the dressing table. Her cosmetics and personal items had already been unpacked and laid out in front of it. Her moisturiser, her make up bag, her photo frame with a picture of her and Megan, circa 2008. Before her sister got married, anyway.
And there, above all those things that looked like home, was the reflection of a stern-looking man in a dark suit. I really can’t get away from him, can I?
She could send him to sit outside her door like some sort of guard dog, but her ingrained manners – a lingering leftover from her grandmother – just wouldn’t let her. But what was the other option?
‘Or I could just take advantage of the second bedroom,’ Dylan added and, for a second, she almost saw a hint of a smile as he pointed towards a doorway she hadn’t noticed. This one had no door either, but Bethany knew that even if it had, he wouldn’t have closed it. He’d made it very clear when they met that he wouldn’t be letting her out of his sight.
Where you go, I go. I can’t protect you if I can’t see you.
The words had sent a shiver down her spine, or maybe it had been the way those dark eyes locked to hers to make sure she understood.
She understood. She was stuck with this guy. And, even if he was hot as hell, that wasn’t a good thing.
‘You chose this suite on purpose didn’t you?’ she asked, peering into the second bedroom. It was far smaller than her own, with just a plain single bed in it. No elaborate decoration, no luxury. That wasn’t a bedroom for a Chatsfield guest. It was a room for staff – or, in this case, a minder.
Dylan’s expression remained blank. ‘It makes sense to have a space where I can protect you.’
‘Spy on me, you mean.’ Bethany knew it was unfair, but she couldn’t help it. The frustration of being constantly under observation from the press was just compounded by the idea of not even being able to be alone in her own bedroom for the night.
‘It’s like I told you,’ Dylan said, irritatingly unruffled. ‘I can’t protect you if I can’t see you.’
Bethany stared at him for a long moment, wishing there were some argument she could make, that she could just throw a diva fit and demand he leave. But she wasn’t that sort of actress, that sort of person, and she had no desire to develop a reputation as such – especially when it would get back to a director and production team she liked, respected and hoped to work with again.
So instead, she sighed and got slowly to her feet, the weight of the day heavy on her shoulders.
‘I need to make a phone call,’ she said, heading towards the slight privacy of her own bedroom. Maybe she could call Megan from the bathroom… ‘Try not to eavesdrop.’
‘I never do, ma’am,’ Dylan replied.
Bethany wasn’t entirely sure she believed him.
Dammit. He had a bolter on his hands, no doubt about it. She looked sweet as honey, and the boss had assured him that her director said she was a darling, but Dylan’s instincts had never been wrong before – and right now they were screaming at him that Bethany Lord was going to run.
Oh, maybe not right now. She wasn’t stupid. She’d make her phone call, feign tiredness