Her brow furrowed thoughtfully as the plane leveled off and her grip on the armrests relaxed. "Honestly, very few people recognize me anymore. I certainly don't look much like teenage Rose, and while some people might remember me from award shows, I'm not hounded as an adult the way I was during my teen years."
Casper tried to imagine what that must have been like to be torn between wanting to be sweet and approachable while simultaneously feeling vulnerable and overwhelmed by crowds of strangers who felt entitled to her time and attention. The mental image of a teenage Willow trying to navigate that impossible balance made his chest tighten with protective instincts he had no business feeling.
It didn't take long for her to reach into her leather bag and extract her laptop, and he suspected it was her standard coping mechanism for anxiety. "Do you mind if I work a little during the flight?"
"Not at all. Take care of whatever you need to do. I have some reports to review myself."
He didn't mention that those reports were detailed background investigations of people in her life. He preferred to digest the information privately, building a complete picture before meeting any of these individuals face-to-face.
Pulling up his tablet, he began with Gloria Vasquez's file. Willow's former personal assistant was now living in Texas. After being fired by Willow, she'd been effectively blacklisted by Willow’s agent and attorney, making it nearly impossible for her to find similar work in the entertainment industry. While there was nothing directly linking her to Willow's current situation, Casper considered her a significant loose end that warranted further investigation.
Willow’s glowing assessment of Aaliyah Johnson appeared to be well-founded. Her background was squeaky clean. She had a steady work history as a personal assistant since earning her business degree, no criminal record, a clear credit history, and a modest lifestyle within her means. If she was harboring any ill intentions toward Willow, she was extraordinarily good at hiding them.
The information on Doug Malone and Becky Smithson painted a picture of two former child stars who'd taken very different paths through Hollywood. Becky had transitioned successfully into behind-the-scenes work, earning respect as a director's assistant on several indie films while attending directing school in her spare time. Doug's trajectory had been less smooth. He was still working as an actor but never achieved greater fame than he'd enjoyed as a teenager playing Rose's geeky younger brother. As he'd matured, he hadn't developed the conventional leading-man looks that Hollywood typically demanded, relegating him to bit parts and B-movie roles. Sadie had included a wry note that in slasher films, his character was invariably the first to die, which made Casper chuckle despitethe serious nature of his research. Now, like Becky, he worked behind the camera.
The file on Warren and Cecily Thorton made for more sobering reading. Cecily had thrust her daughter into modeling as a toddler. By the age of five, Willow was still a sought-after child model and actress in commercials. By the age of ten, Willow had been an extra in several films. But it was when she was fourteen and landed the starring role of Rose on TV that her career and status soared.
After Willow departed for college, her parents attempted to recreate their success with other young talent, but their agency had failed spectacularly. Cecily's modeling agency had fared even worse, shuttering within eighteen months due to a lack of clients and industry credibility.
What Casper found most puzzling was their continued estrangement from Willow. Even purely from a financial standpoint, maintaining a relationship with their successful daughter would have been the logical choice. But perhaps the damage had run too deep, or their pride had prevented them from accepting the boundaries she'd established. Either way, their desperation and resentment made them potential suspects worth monitoring.
The chartered flight descended smoothly into Hollywood Burbank Airport, the sprawling city of Los Angeles spreading beneath them. A black SUV limousine waited on the tarmac, its driver efficiently loading their luggage while Casper scanned the area for potential threats. The transition from the intimate privacy of Nebraska to the exposed publicity of Los Angeles put him on high alert.
The hotel her agent had selected struck the perfect balance between luxury and discretion. The Beverly Hills establishment catered to entertainment industry professionals who valued privacy over ostentation, with a sophisticated lobby thatmanaged to feel both elegant and welcoming. Check-in was handled with practiced efficiency, and their luggage was whisked away by staff who were clearly trained in maintaining client confidentiality.
Their suite overlooked the city, offering panoramic views that somehow made LA seem more manageable and less overwhelming. Two bedrooms flanked a spacious living area, furnished with comfortable seating and modern amenities.
"I'm going to freshen up before we meet Nathan and Christopher," Willow declared, disappearing into her room with her garment bag.
Casper used the time to change from his travel clothes into black slacks and a crisp black button-down shirt, rolling the sleeves up to his forearms in a gesture that felt more natural than the formal look he was aiming for. He usually didn't give much thought to his appearance, but he felt uncharacteristically self-conscious about looking too rough or out of place among Willow's professional circle.
When she emerged from her room, he understood why Nathan insisted on charter flights and five-star hotels. She wore tailored linen pants in cream and a sapphire-blue silk blouse that made her eyes absolutely luminous. Her blond hair fell in loose waves just below her shoulders, and she'd applied just enough makeup to enhance her natural beauty without hiding it behind Hollywood glamour.
"Casper! Oh my God, you look really good," she said, her eyes moving over him with obvious appreciation.
Her genuine reaction made him chuckle with relief. "I didn't want to look too rough around your business associates, although..." He ran his hand over his closely cropped hair and mohawk, suddenly aware that his unconventional style would never truly fit in among LA's polished professionals. "Hell, I'm security. I suppose it doesn't really matter what I look like."
Her gaze traveled over him consideringly before she tilted her head with a smile that made his pulse quicken. "I have to admit, I've gotten used to seeing you in jeans and boots and thick wool socks. That's probably my favorite look, actually."
Her honest appraisal and obvious approval caused warmth to spread through his chest. Dipping his chin in acknowledgment, he said, "You're beautiful no matter what you wear, Willow."
She wrinkled her nose in a gesture that made her seem younger and more approachable. "I prefer casual too, but there are always paparazzi lurking around these places. And while nobody really cares about me anymore, if someone recognizes me as Rose, I'll end up in some tabloid under the headline 'Whatever Happened To...'" She scoffed, adding quickly, "Not that I actually care what they say."
But he could see that she did care, at least a little. The casual dismissal didn't quite hide the vulnerability underneath, the awareness that her every public appearance was subject to scrutiny and judgment.
They descended to the hotel's restaurant, a space that was sophisticated without being intimidatingly formal. The lighting was warm and flattering, the decor tastefully understated, and the clientele clearly consisted of industry professionals conducting business over expensive meals. It was exactly the kind of place where deals were made and careers were launched, where being seen was almost as important as the actual conversation.
"There they are," Willow said, her face brightening as she spotted two men at a table near the back of the restaurant.
Both men rose immediately upon seeing her, their faces lighting up with affection. The taller of the two enveloped her in an enthusiastic hug, followed by the second man, who offered a more restrained but equally warm embrace. The easy familiaritybetween them spoke of relationships built on mutual respect and genuine friendship rather than mere professional convenience.
She turned back toward Casper with her smile still radiant, the transformation from nervous traveler to confident professional complete. "Casper, I'd like you to meet my agent, Nathan Foster. He handles all my screenplay deals and has been putting up with me for years. And this is Christopher Baldwin, the best entertainment attorney in the business and the man who keeps me out of legal trouble."
Handshakes were exchanged with the kind of firm, assessing grip that successful men used to measure each other. Nathan was younger than Casper had expected, probably mid-forties, with the kind of effortless polish that came from years of high-stakes negotiations. Christopher appeared slightly older, his silver-touched hair and expensive suit speaking to established success and hard-won expertise.
"Nathan, Christopher, this is Aldo Caspani, my security specialist," Willow continued, using his formal name in a way that made their arrangement sound more official and less personal.
While Casper wouldn't have minded sitting at a nearby table or even at the bar to maintain professional distance, Willow had insisted he join them directly. He was grateful for the decision, since it gave him the opportunity to observe her in her professional capacity while closely evaluating the people who had access to her schedule, location, and personal information.
