“Move!” he barks at the growing crowd as he firmly guides me back toward the car.
When a particularly aggressive pap lunges forward, tryingto get a shot around Evo’s massive arm, his camera smacks against my shoulder, and I yelp.
It’s more in surprise than pain, but that’s when Evo really loses his shit.
With one massive hand, he grabs the camera and shoves it back into the asshole’s face. Not hard enough to hurt him, but definitely enough to make a point.
“I said back! The fuck! Off!” he roars.
The jerk stumbles backward, clutching his camera. “You can’t do that! I’ll sue! I got that on video!”
“Fucking try it, asshole,” Evo snarls, using his body as a shield as he hustles me toward the SUV.
By now, a large crowd has gathered to watch. Tourists with cell phones are recording everything.
My face burns with embarrassment and fear as Evo practically lifts and shoves me into the car, slamming the door shut before hurriedly jogging around to the driver’s side.
Even though the tinted windows provide instant relief from the chaos outside, I start to shake, adrenaline coursing through my veins as Evo slides into the driver’s seat and peels away from the curb.
“You okay back there?”
“Yeah.” The lie comes out a little shaky as I wrap my arms around myself, hunkering down in my seat. “Just wasn’t expecting that to happen.”
“Sorry. Should’ve been more careful,” he grumbles, jaw tight with anger. “That’s the worst part of this business. Those vultures have no fucking boundaries whatsoever.”
“Are you gonna get in trouble for shoving that guy?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve had to do much worse to protect Mr. Cole. Just like I would to protect you. That’s the job.”
I nod, trying to calm my racing heart. “Where are we going?”
“Back to Paramount,” he answers firmly. “Meetings should be wrapping up soon, and after that little scene? I think it’s best we call it a day.”
fifty-four
It sucksbig time that I’ve been stuck in meetings most of the day instead of being inside Lizzy.
Willing my dick to behave, I hit the button for the elevator just as my phone pings.
When I check to see who’s calling, I groan. My agent reaching out on a Sunday morning? Never a good sign.
“What’s up, Hank?” I sigh, stepping into the elevator.
“Where the hell are you?” he barks. Ironically, this is how he sounds when he’s trying not to lose his shit.
“Paramount. About to head into my meeting with Benson. Why?”
“Fuck.” He exhales heavily. “You need to be prepared. They’re not happy.”
The elevator doors closes with a soft ding. “Not happy about what?”
“The gala. The photos. You spent more time posing with Carrie than you did with your girlfriend. It’s all over social media.”
My stomach drops. “Shit. It wasn’t like that.”
“I know, I know,” Hank sighs. “Care to explain anyway?”
I lean against the wall, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Vanity Fairrequested Carrie and me specifically. What was I supposed to do?”
