Page 3 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Two

“The time is mine,” he says, his voice low and steady. “Atthe end of the day, time is all any of us have.”

I take a step back, surprised. Iwasn’t expecting those words. That thought. The same words,more or less, that I’d thrown at my manager when I turned down apiece-of-crap blockbuster that would have paid enough to buy my own island. Noprivate island is worth those hours I would never get back.

I swallow, then speak despite my suddenly dry mouth. “It’smy money that’s paying for your time.” Despite all my theatrical skills, thewords do not come out with the intensity I’d intended.

He studies me, then nods slowly. “Very well. I guess I’myours. Tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

I draw myself up, my shoulders going back automatically.“Excuse me?” It’s the tone that usually makes people scurry in fear. My secretweapon against an industry that treats me like property. Nothing more than anasset on the balance sheet. I learned a long time ago how to protect myself andcontrol my destiny, and it’s second nature to slide into the fortress I builtaround myself as a child. My safe place. And I always erect those walls toperfection.

Somehow, Simon Barré has toppled them, and instead ofbacking away with a muttered apology, he’s coming closer. “You’re scared,right?” To my surprise, I hear both sympathy and kindness in his voice. “I’mhere because I was assigned to protect you. So that you’ll be less scared.” Hepauses, waiting for me to acknowledge his words. Against my every instinct, Inod. “Well,” he continues, the soft tone replaced by sharp edges, “tell me howto protect you. Tell me what the plan is.”

“I don’t know the plan,” I snap.

“You don’t?”

He slides his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and my eyesfollow, noting the way the denim clings to his legs, his hips, his everything.I feel an unwelcome quickening of desire, and I snap my eyes back up to his.

“Are you saying I do?” he asks. “Know how to protect you, Imean.”

My head is spinning. “Um, yes. That’s why you’re here.That’s why I’m paying you.”

Those green eyes flash with temper. And maybe a hint ofvictory. “Then get back to the dining table, stay there, and let me do my job.Because believe me when I say I never signed on to play babysitter to a diva.”

That’s it. “What the hellis your problem?”

“Right now, it’s you. You’re holding up our meeting.”

The door swings open, and we both turn to see Aaron step in.“Did you two get lost?”

Aaron Kepler is ten years older than me, with pale blueeyes, a straggly beard, and an easy smile. Most important, he’s been in my lifefor almost as long as I can remember. He was fresh out of college and workingas a production assistant on Bright Eyes when I was ten and theshow was just starting. He became like a brother to me and my bestie, Carolyn,the showrunner’s daughter, who also had a recurring role as the next-doorneighbor.

I close my eyes, gathering myself the way I always do when Ithink about Carolyn and that horrible night.

“Frannie?”

I look up, startled to find Aaronright in front of me, his expression full of concern. He might now be thepresident of Freeway Flix, a streaming service with its own production arm thatis giving Netflix a run for its money, but he’s still just Aaron to me.

I shake off my mood and meet his eyes, then watch as hisattention moves from me to my jerk of a bodyguard, then back to me. He frownsas he searches my face, probably afraid I’m about to fly off the handle. Heknows me well, after all.

But he also has a tendency toward overprotection, and Idon’t need him playing savior. Mr. Barré really isn’t worth the trouble.

“We’re doing fine. Since Simon here is going to be mybodyguard, we were getting to know each other.”

“Yeah, well, I think they want you both back in there.”

“Right,” says the Captain Americawannabe.

I sigh, then follow both men back into the dining area wherecommand central is set up at my dining table, a huge, heavy thing that thedesigner I’d hired picked “because it suited my status” after I became a newlyminted Academy Award winner. It’s supposed to make me happy—a reminder of thatawesome night. Instead, it just irritates me.

Damien and Ryan are there, along with my long-time friendMatthew Holt. A force of nature in the entertainment industry, Holt is a triplethreat, and through his company, Hardline Entertainment, he has fingers in themusic, film, and television industries. Plus, Hardline owns Freeway and isproviding most of the financing for my next two films, both of which will havea short theatrical run before streaming exclusively at Freeway.

Matthew’s brilliant, with a well-earned reputation for beingdangerous. I’ve seen that famous temper more than once. And while I don’tbelieve the rumor that he actually killed a man, itwouldn’t surprise me to learn that it’s true.

As a friend, Matthew’s here to support me. As a businessman,he’s here because I may be in danger, and since I’m slated to star in severalHardline films, that could be bad for business. Which is why he’s covering someof the cost of making sure I stay alive.

They are the only three at the table, five when Aaron andSimon join them. There are other agents in the room, though, all gathered nearthe doorway as they study tablets or talk into headsets, presumably conferringwith the indoor and outdoor agents and techies who are checking and upgradingmy security.

Damien looks up, his forehead creased in a frown. He mayhave founded Stark Security, but I know he doesn’t usually work the actualjobs, and I appreciate him being here. We’re not close friends, but we’vegotten to know each other over the years, and I respect him and his wife.