“No. It would be bad for your business if you shot your client. You want a coffee?”
He nods, a quick jerk of his chin, and I grab a couple of complimentary coffee pods from a big glass bowl, setting the coffee maker going. As it churns and steams, I watch Matt methodically checking all of the gun parts. Behind him, there’s a case full of different firearms; mostly smaller pistols, but some much bigger ones, as well.
“Where did you even get all of those?”
“Our LA office.”
“You have multiple locations?”
“Hollywood is a very common destination for our celebrity assets, so we keep a base here.” He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a slim aerosol tube. “Picked you up some pepper spray. Wish I could offer you something better, but half the men in Hollywood would be dead tomorrow if you were allowed to carry.”
“Hey, you’re getting to know me.” I weigh the bottle in my hand. I’ve never seen pepper spray before. “This is just point-and-click, right?”
He nods. “Aim for the eyes.”
“I always do.” That finally makes his mouth twist into a grim smile. The coffee machine gurgles to a stop, and I pass him his mug. “Do you prefer working in England or America?”
“Usually America. The weapons make the jobs more interesting.But I’d prefer this job be as boring as possible.”
I watch in silence as he takes apart another pistol, checks inside it, and reassembles it. This might be the first civilised conversation we’ve had since our chat by the pool last week. Now that we’re not snapping at each other, I can examine him more closely. He doesn’t look good. His skin is pale underneath his tan, and there are dark circles under his eyes. As he sets the gun aside and reaches for another one, I notice that his hand is shaking.
“Matt, are you okay?”
He flinches like I’ve swung at him, then smiles bitterly. “Been talking to Kenta, have you?”
“No. Well, yes, obviously, but that’s not why I’m asking. You look half-dead.”
“Jet lag,” he grunts, “I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure? If you’re not feeling well, I’m sure I can find someone to take your place—”
He stands suddenly, slamming the gun on the table. “I’mfine,” he growls, then turns on his heel and heads back into the guys’ room. I stand there, staring blankly at his untouched coffee steaming on the countertop.
Well, that was rude.
There’s a footstep behind me, and I feel my whole body relax as warm arms band around my waist. Kenta’s soft, spicy scent floods my senses as he nabs Matt’s coffee.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He kisses my neck. “How are you feeling?”
“Is Matt getting sick?” I ask bluntly.
He pauses for way too long. “He’s got a lot on his plate right now,” he says diplomatically.
I turn to look at him. He looks divine, his long hair tied back in a low ponytail, his sharp jaw shaded with stubble. I fight the urge to run my fingers along it. “He looks like he’s about to collapse.”
Kenta hums, noncommittal. “Are you ready for the press event tonight?”
I sigh and nod. “Any sign of X?”
“Not a peep. We’ve had people trawling through your socials, and nothing has popped up that matches his usual pattern of speech.” He squeezes my shoulder. “It could mean that he’s losing interest.”
“Or it could mean he’s travelling here,” I point out. “Maybe he’s on a plane right now.”
“Hey.” Kenta touches under my chin. “You pay us to worry for you. There’s no point in you doing it as well.”He takes a swig of coffee, and my eyes catch on the glossy red smudge on his neck.
I reach up to thumb it off. “You’ve still got my lipstick on you.”
He rolls his neck to give me better access, his lips brushing the top of my head. For a second, my insides clutch. A memory from last night flashes in front of my eyes: me, riding him hard while he buries his face in my cleavage, sucking hungrily at my tits. I feel heat shimmering over my skin.
