By the time we return to the hotel, I’m starting to drag. I didn’t expect the nonstop vigilance to be so tiring.
The walk through the lobby starts out normal enough. The space is fairly busy with a line of people near reception waiting for their mid-afternoon check-in. Luggage carts and porters cut across the space, dodging the groupings of people, making it hard to see everything at once.
A few heads turn as we pass, attention snagging briefly on Keke as she walks in the middle of the group, animatedly talking with Dani and Marco about tonight’s event.
I notice a few people elbow the person next to them and then pretend they aren’t watching a celebrity. Some phones come out. A couple of people lift them casually, pretending they aren’t snapping shots, while others are more obvious.
None of it sets off alarms for me. This is exactly what I expected guarding a celebrity.
And yet… As we move further through the lobby, I can’t help the growing sense creeping in on me that something is wrong—off.
The hair on the back of my neck lifts, and I have the unmistakable sensation of being watched. I resist the urge to spin and look behind me. Liev is still walking a few steps in front of us, his posture and expression warning off anyone eventhinkingabout approaching. I can tell he isn’t sensing the same thing I am.
My gut clenches as the feeling grows stronger. I search the groups of people, looking for something that doesn’t belong. My pace slows by a fraction, just enough to give myself room to observe without drawing attention. My eyes rove over the open seating, the people in line, the reflections in the glossy floor, but there’s nothing.
Still, the feeling doesn’t fade as we approach the elevators.
Liev is facing the elevators, so I turn my back to watch for someone coming up behind us, but other than a few people still taking pictures, everything looks normal.
The doors ding behind me, and Liev steps between those exiting and Keke before ushering our group on. As I join him, he holds the door and leans close.
“Everything okay?” he murmurs.
“Yeah, just a weird feeling.” I frown. “Probably nothing.”
“Instincts keep you alive.”
“Didn’t feel like fans or paparazzi. It felt… different.”
He studies my eyes for a moment, then turns to face the doors, posture shifting as his attention extends back into the lobby we’ve just left. He doesn’t dismiss me or try to tell me I’m being paranoid or jumpy because it’s my first job—the things my rational mind is chiming in with.
His faith in me matters more than he probably realizes. Probably more than it should.
Reaching the suite, Keke disappears into her room immediately to freshen up while Dani claims a section of the room in front of the large windows and starts setting up her makeup station with practiced efficiency. Marco checks his phone and announces that the hairstylist will be here shortly before popping open a bottle of champagne and disappearing into the bedroom with a flute for Keke.
Liev crosses to the bar, grabs two bottles of water, and hands one to me.
“Thanks.”
“We need to come up with some way for you to signal me the next time you get a feeling. Something that won’t alert the others, but so I know to be watching, too. Two sets of eyes are better than one.”
“You didn’t see anything?” I hate that I’m doubting myself.
A warm hand closes over my fingers, and only then do I realize I’m picking at my cuticle again. “I didn’t, but you did. That’s enough.”
The words settle into me, solid and reassuring.
There’s a knock at the door, and when Liev goes to answer it, I catch Dani giving me a knowing smile.
Shit. She must have seen Liev holding my hand, which, while not exactly intimate, most likely isn’t standard professional behavior.
While Liev checks the hairdresser’s ID and does a quick look through her bags, I wander closer to the makeup artist wondering if I should do damage control.
I’m grateful Liev’s focused on what he’s doing when Dani glances at me. “I can show you some tricks if you like,” she says lightly, gesturing toward my neck.
My hand comes up instinctively, fingers brushing the faint ridges of my scars. I’d evened out the coloring with makeup early this morning, but I know it’s probably worn off by now. I feel heat creep up my neck, and I stiffen.
Seeing my reaction, Dani flushes and immediately backpedals, realizing her misstep. “I didn’t mean anything by it. They’re not even that bad. I just noticed you tried to cover them and?—”
