“I change my mind. I can’t call you Athena anymore,” he said quietly.
“No?”
“No, I think I need to call you Isis because you will definitely either save me from or lead me to my death.”
I laughed, the heaviness from our talk in the room hours before easing away.
He pulled my hand into his, and we walked into the penthouse that way. Joined. A unified front. Brady and Lee were waiting for us with Tanner and the enormous man I recognized as Agent Malone. They all had flutes of champagne, and Lee offered us each our own. Nash declined any, but I lifted one to my lips. Nash leaned into my ear, whispering, “If the champagne gets to touch those lips, I should have been able to as well.”
All I could do was smile and wink.
“You look gorgeous, Dani,” Lee said, elbowing Brady who looked up from his phone.
“You do. Completely beautiful. Alice did a great job.”
“She’s beautiful regardless of what Alice put on her,” Nash said behind me, and Brady’s face broke into a huge grin.
“Truth. But it’s kind of fun to hear you growl it,” Brady said.
I laughed because Brady was a flirt with everyone, male or female, but Nash hadn’t even seemed to notice. Instead, he was listening to something in his ear.
“They’re ready for you. We’ll go out the side entrance, through the alley, and then up to the front of the red carpet. I’d still prefer we skip the entire pre-show, but I’ve been overruled,” Nash said.
The theater hosting the AMAs was next door to the hotel as part of a major entertainment and convention center complex in the heart of L.A. We wouldn’t need to drive anywhere to get there, although it would probably be strange for us to be emerging from an alley instead of getting out of a limo.
“Look at it this way, you’ll get to experience the red carpet without the hassle of ever having to make a song or a movie,” Brady said to Nash.
Nash didn’t respond. Other than the kiss and sexy look, Nash was in game mode, his SEAL persona surrounding him. The flash of the gun at his waist was only one of the weapons I was sure he was sporting beneath the layers of his tux.
Nash and Tanner were going to accompany us down the press corridor. It would cause more rumors in tomorrow’s media storm, but I was certain it was the only way Nash had approved of my being a part of this whole scenario. He was determined to keep me close.
Our entire group made our way out of the suite, down the hall, and into the elevator. Nash reached for my hand, and I gave him a wide smile to let him know I was truly okay. I even winked at him, and his eyes squinted, looking down at my lips which now tasted like champagne instead of lipstick. If we’d been alone in the elevator, I might have done something completely daring, and as if he could read my mind, Nash’s hand brushed against the hem of my dress in a casual, slow movement that reminded me just how painfully and gorgeously slow his hands could move over my body.
When I looked back up at his face from his hand touching me, it was his turn to give me a grin and a wink. Challenge accepted.
We hit the service hallway that we’d arrived in earlier where even more men waited. We had two in front and one on each side with Tanner and Nash taking up the rear. Malone disappeared in a different direction, and men with FBI vests lined walls as we walked. Alice was right; it was all over-the-top. When we emerged from the alleyway, the fans in the street roped off from the entryway burst into screams, calling Brady’s name. Brady waved and gave them his wide smile which wound them up to an almost fevered pitch.
As we hit the red carpet, Brady put his arm through mine and turned a smile toward the press corps. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Smile, or they’ll think I paid you to come.”
I laughed, and I swear I could feel Nash tense up from three feet behind me.
Brady’s face was still next to my ear. “Shall we really make him go apeshit?” And before I could respond, he was placing a kiss on my cheek. The cameras flashed at such a fast pace; I was sure I was going to trip over my own feet from being blinded. When I risked a look behind us over Brady’s shoulder, Nash’s face was a deep scowl which only made him look exactly like the military man he was.
“Don’t torment him,” I said in Brady’s ear. “You’re lucky he hasn’t killed you himself just to be done with all this.”
Brady chuckled, and we stepped forward to the next stop on the long line to the door. There were certain members of the press who were allowed to ask questions and some who were just allowed to photograph. It was going to take at least thirty minutes to get to the theater entrance.
At the next mark on the carpet, Brady and I stood with his arm around my waist and my hand on his chest. “Brady, tell us why you disappeared for real. Was it to whisk your stunning PR manager off to some hideaway?”
We both smiled, and Brady just shook his head. “You know better than that, Sheila. But I do have to agree; Dani looks stunning.”
It didn’t look like Nash was watching or listening—he had his face directed at the crowd—but his eyes narrowed, and his hand clenched tighter into a fist at Brady’s words. I didn’t want him to be jealous. There was no reason for him to be, but it also hit some inner cavewoman in me that was relieved and turned on
