A single couple moved to the middle of the dance floor, and that popped loose the awkwardness. A woman in a bronze halter dress started undulating, sequins catching the light. Bree the surly assistant still had her phone out, and she was staring with curiosity at Trey and me.
“Uh oh,” I said. “We’re getting looks. Quick, act like you’re interrogating me.”
Trey’s forehead creased. “What?”
“Hands on hips. Frown meanly.”
He did as I asked, although he looked more confused than mean. I flung my hands in the air and widened my eyes, tried to look like I was arguing.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“This is me telling you I didn’t see anything, but you don’t believe me, so shake your head.”
He did. He also moved closer, right into my personal space. Suddenly, even in his discount suit, he exuded authority, and I fought the urge to take a step back. Or take a step forward. Command presence—it ratcheted his sex appeal into the stratosphere.
I shook it off. “Now take me by the elbow and march me behind that partition next to the band.”
Trey did exactly as I asked. I put up a semblance of a protest, and as his fingers gripped my arm, I felt a warm melting at the base of my spine. I let him propel me behind the screen, my back against his chest, as the band moved into a reggae number.
He released my arm and faced me. “Was that okay?”
“Oh yeah. That was perfect.”
“Good. Now what?”
I steadied myself, though I could still feel heat in my cheeks. “Now we address our next challenge. Because that Bree chick is taking pictures again.”
Trey raised an eyebrow. “Again?”
“Yes. Of the fight, of Nick, of you and me. But you know what she hasn’t done, not even once?”
“What?”
“Take a selfie.”
Trey rolled that fact around in his head. “That’s unusual?”
“For a twenty-something at a celebrity party? Highly unusual.”
“Do you have a theory?”
“I do.”
So I told him. His eyes narrowed.
“Interesting.”
“Yep. So go talk to her.”
“But—”
“You’re the security guy, not me.”
He shook his head vehemently. “But you have the better interrogation skills. You ask the right questions. You—”
“You do fine with a little advance prep.” I chanced a peek around the edge of the screen. Bree was still standing beside the bar, texting her heart out. I ducked back before she spotted me. “So—”
“Hold on. That’s my phone.” He pulled it out and examined the readout, his expression becoming more concerned by the second. “It’s Price. I have to take this. You go talk to Bree. I’ll meet you outside.”
“Trey—”
But he took off for the exit before I could say another word.
Chapter Forty
I ordered another bourbon and took it over to where Bree stood in the corner, texting. She ignored me until I cleared my throat, then raised her head and gave me a withering look. “Yeah?”
I gave her one back. “Did you even read those signs?”
“What signs?”
“The ones at the gate. At the production company office. At the Kennesaw base camp. They all say the same thing. Unauthorized photography and/or video strictly prohibited and punishable by fine and/or imprisonment.”
“So?”
“So the resort security manager is getting ready to haul you down to the police station because the Talbots are going to press charges. He just told me so.”
She blanched, and her mouth fell open a little. She was desperately holding onto the bravado, but I could see the tiny cracks in the facade.
“But everybody takes pictures!” she said.
“Yes, but not everybody posts them to a stalker app.”
“It’s not for stalkers, it’s for fans!”
“No, sites that share celebrity locations in public are for fans. Like if you see George Clooney elbow-deep in fried chicken somewhere. Not sites that leak base camp locations. Do you realize how much danger you put everyone in?”
She paled even more. “Diego wasn’t dangerous! Nick said so himself. And Nick was never in danger, I would never…”
She caught herself before the words came out, but the blush gave her away. Nick was wrong. She wasn’t after some golden ticket to stardom. She was after him.
“You saw Diego’s profile in the Nick Talbot group and started sharing confidential info with him, knowing he’d eventually snap.” I shook my head, puzzled. “What I don’t get is why. If you really care about Nick, why would you…?” And then I got it. “You wanted Diego to spill the beans about his relationship with Addison so that Nick would know Addison lied to him. You were trying to break them up.”
She folded her arms and clammed up. Bull’s eye.
I shook my head. “Wow. That’s gonna add aiding and abetting to your rap sheet.”
I saw the first tremble in her lips. She was about to cry. Part of me felt bad for continuing to press, but then I remembered Nick with his head in his hands, and poor dumb Diego, and the part of me that wanted to smack her took the reins again.
I made my voice stern. “Listen. I don’t care if you leaked locations or took pictures. Talbot Creative might, but I don’t. Lucky for you, I’m not the cops, and I don’t answer to the Talbots.”
“What about the security guy?”
I smiled. “He’s not here right this second, now is he?”
Bree examined me warily. “Why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?”
“A little inside information, that’s all. And who would you rather take a chance on, me or Mr. Law and Order?”
She blinked her eyes clear and talked quickly. “Nick told me about Diego a long time ago, so I knew who he was. I also knew he was harmless, just stupid in love with Addison.” She practically spat the name out of her mouth. “I saw his profile on the Star Track app and dropped him a message. He told me the truth about Addison, that they were together—like serious—until she moved to Georgia.”
“So you hoped that they’d get back together and leave Nick
