At least that put all the other rumors to bed, he thought to himself in the security room, scanning his eyes over the various camera feeds. There wasn’t anything more exciting going on than a good, old-fashioned, closeted gay actor.
Gray looked at the little map that came with the property, comparing different feeds to their locations around the mansion. If paparazzi kept breaking in, there had to be a flaw in the system somewhere. And Gray was feeling even more motivated to protect Jameson’s privacy. He felt a kind of loyalty about it, like it was his duty as a gay man to make sure this guy had the space he needed to figure himself out. And not only could he rely on Declan’s training and all the protocols in place to keep the property secure. He could also dig into his own history and locate the weak spots that he and his guys would have exploited.
He shook his head, still confused about the location of camera seven, which seemed to just point at a bush. A round bush, with a nice, sculpted curve to it. Gray stared, thinking about another nice, sculpted curve, then slapped himself across the cheek.
Nurturing a crush on Jameson was a sure way to screw up the security gig, yet there he was, thinking about the guy’s ass again, the way his jeans hugged his cheeks, and the taut, thick thighs.
Gray shuddered. A second later, his phone beeped, and he pushed a couple buttons to flip it to speaker.
“Gray?” Raiden asked, his voice staticky. “How the hell is it, man? You at the mansion?”
“I’m in the security room,” he answered. “You ever mess around with one of these Bright Force systems?”
“That shit’s fancy. But yeah, I can hack it. Why? You need me?”
Gray flipped the switch that turned on the fence monitor, then flipped it back off to the default position, set to turn on automatically after the sun set. “No, just curious. I’m trying to figure out how people sneak by this thing.”
“Maybe it’s all the sex freaks. You see any tall, muscular women around the place?”
“No way,” Gray grumbled, almost choking out the words. “That’s all lies, Raiden. He’s just chilling and doing his thing here.”
“Acting a little defensive, man. You getting a crush on the superstar or something? You going to hang his poster on your wall like a teenager?”
Gray’s cheeks burned. He fucking hated it when Raiden made fun of him about guys. “Yeah, right. I’m just earning a paycheck.” He grunted. “I did accidentally bring up Lukas last night, though.”
“Damn, really? You didn’t get drunk and tell the story of him cheating on you, did you?”
“He didn’t cheat on me,” Gray objected.
“Did too. He brought another guy he was hooking up with to the bar when we were celebrating your birthday.”
“Shut up!” Gray objected again. “I told you, we weren’t exclusive.”
“You thought you were the week before.”
“Anyway,” Gray said loudly, then jumped up to his feet. “I didn’t get drunk and tell Jameson the story, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”
“Jameson?”
“Justin. That’s his name.”
There was a slight pause, and then Raiden barked another laugh. “You do have a crush on him!”
A shadow crossed in front of the main camera, the one pointed at the front gate. “Whatever, Raiden. Don’t forget to clean the gutters. I don’t want the roof to leak again.”
“Miss you, too.”
Gray grabbed his jacket and then headed out toward the front of the house, eager to catch whatever had passed in front of the screen. Jameson said staff would come and go, and the dossier provided by Declan had explained that deliveries came through the front gate, but as Gray was getting used to the job, he wanted to keep a closer eye on everything.
Raiden didn’t know what he was going on about anyway. Gray was totally ready to get over Lukas, just like he got over every other shitty boyfriend he’d picked up at the bar. None of them lasted more than a few months, and Gray did a good job moving on when the flings were done. Except for, like Raiden said, sometimes when he’d been drinking a bit too much and he ended up pouring his heart out and buying into his own sob stories.
Gray stepped around to the front of the house in time to see the source of that shadow, a gray truck that rolled down the driveway, then parked itself right by the front. A man jumped out in a gray delivery uniform, then grabbed a small package, wrapped in brown paper.
“Hello?” Gray rubbed his hands together, the spring day chilly. “Can I help you?”
“Just a script delivery,” the man said, waving the package in the air as he headed to the front door. “Roles to consider.”
“He doesn’t act anymore,” Gray said, then stopped himself. He doubted it really mattered to the delivery person anyway.
