Page 22 of Israel

Chapter 9

He was there when she came offstage.

At odd intervals during the performance, Ashley had found herself thinking of Israel, wondering if he was watching.

Wanting to know what he thought of the show.

It surprised her, that she even cared. He was just an employee—probably an unnecessary one. He was annoying and arrogant and full of himself half the time, and he was probably going to be a pain in her ass.

But deep down inside, she wanted him to respect her—and she wanted his respect for the thing that was most important to her. Every time she’d come off the stage for a set break, she’d found herself glancing around backstage, hoping to see his hulking form, but he was never there.

Until her last bow. The moment she gave her final goodnight and left the stage, she could feel him. He was standing over near the stage door, eyes on her.

Some tiny part of her that had been tense relaxed.

Tiffany handed her a towel and she patted down her face. The lights and the performance adrenalin always overheated her and made her sweat. Israel was just standing, waiting, his arms folded in that way that made him look even bigger and more intimidating.

She couldn’t read his face, and she hated that. She also hated how much she wanted him to like her, how much she wanted to see respect and admiration in his eyes.

She took her time getting over to him, but he didn’t show signs of impatience. “You ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and he opened the stage door for her, ushering her through after doing a quick check of the hallway. Then he walked silently beside her. She could feel him giving her the occasional glance, but he didn’t say anything.

She couldn’t stand it.

“So, did you catch the show?” She tried to sound casual.

He gave her another one of those unreadable glances. “Just the last set,” he said. “I had some things to take care of.”

Of course he did. He didn’t really care about her or her music. She was just a job to him.

“You were amazing,” he said quietly. “I’ve never—” He broke off, as if he didn’t have the words. Then he said, even more quietly, “I see why you fought your family for this. You belong out there.”

The total sincerity in his voice took her aback. She was used to accepting compliments and had learned to do it graciously, but for some reason those few words robbed her of all her practiced responses.

Instead she said, “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He gave a small nod, but he didn’t say anything more.

She found herself wanting to know what he was thinking, what went on inside his head. When they first met he’d sparred with her, keeping up with her snarky comments and sexual innuendo with a confidence she hadn’t expected.

But as the day progressed, she’d realized what a quiet person he really was. He’d sat observing everything she did and everything that went on, but he’d barely said a word to anyone.

He was a lot more than knuckle-dragging muscle. She was beginning to suspect that Israel was a complicated man who kept most of what he thought inside. Which, perversely, made her want him to share it with her.

Don’t get too involved, she warned herself. Because if she did, her bodyguard could quite possibly be more dangerous than her stalker.

They arrived at her dressing room and Ashley reached for the door handle, but Israel put his arm in front of her, blocking her way.

“Me first,” he said.

And just like that, he was annoying her again.

“Always the gentleman,” she muttered. “What happened to ‘ladies first’?”

“It doesn’t apply to bodyguards,” he said. “I clear the room before you enter. Hopefully my intention to potentially throw myself in front of a bullet for you makes up for the lack of gentlemanly manners.”

“Hmph.” Ashley would have been more impressed by that if she thought it would ever actually happen.

Israel moved her gently but firmly away from the door, then turned the handle and unlatched it, taking a step back.

Seriously? This was overkill. Unless he was trying to impress her by pretending there was way more danger than there actually was. It wasn’t like anyone could have gotten into her dressing room. There was security everywhere.

Israel gave the door a nudge with his foot, and it swung open. Without waiting for his “clear,” Ashley stepped inside.

And gasped.

The room was full of lilacs. Bouquets on every surface, and lilac petals scattered on the chaise lounge. Written in purple lipstick on the mirror were the words:

YOU’RE MINE.