The Bodyguard in Her Room. Sophie PembrokeЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Contents

       Cover

       Blurb

       Title Page

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

       About the Author

       Discover the Chatsfield

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      ‘Bethany! Bethany! Ms Lord!’ The calls and shouts merged together in her brain, like there was only one voice screaming her name instead of hundreds. Bethany kept her head dipped, blinking every time a camera flash went off, until the red carpet under her feet turned into a kaleidoscope of twisting light and shade.

      Not the right red carpet, though. Not the carpet that meant it was almost time to leave this godforsaken city. No, that red carpet was still two nights and about two hundred interviews away. As much as she just wanted to get through the premiere and get the hell out of town, she had to survive the press junket first. She owed it to Neil, for taking a chance on her and giving her a shot at a new kind of role. Hell, she’d even got to wear armour for a bit, which definitely made a change from short skirts and high heels.

      She kind of wished she had the armour on now, actually.

      But she didn’t. She didn’t even have Liam Hunter, her co-star, beside her. Perhaps his considerably higher celeb status would have attracted attention away from her. And Liam was nice, nicer than she’d expected such a big star to be. He’d been a good friend to her when she’d been finding her feet on set – and just a friend, whatever the press said!

      She owed it to Neil and Liam to keep walking along the damn carpet and get on with her job. She couldn’t skip out on everyone now, just when the publicity machine for Time Could Wait was kicking into high gear.

      Even if she really, really wanted to. And even if she knew that the reporters weren’t going to care about the film. They only had one subject they wanted to ask Bethany Lord questions on this week. And she needed to find out what the answers were, before she could figure out how much of them she could share.

       I need to talk to Megan.

      ‘Bethany! Is it true? Did you arrange bail for your brother-in-law today?’

      Bethany winced. On the bright side, at least they weren’t all asking her if she was sleeping with Liam anymore.

      An arm hovered above her shoulder, not quite touching, but close enough that she could feel its presence. Dylan. The security guard Neil had insisted she take with her to London. She’d laughed at the idea when he’d first brought it up, but now it seemed like he’d had a better idea of how her week would go than she had.

      She should be grateful to have him, shielding her from the shouting and the questions and the cameras, she supposed. But she wasn’t. And if that made her an ungrateful, spoilt little starlet, like the press would no doubt claim, well… she didn’t care. Not this week. This week, she’d earned some petty nastiness, even if it was only in her head.

      She just wanted to be alone. She wanted to be able to visit London, see the sights, or even just veg out in her hotel suite without having a permanent shadow. Someone who told her with a look every time he thought she was doing something ‘inadvisable’.

      ‘What about the assault charges, Bethany?’ Another journalist, American this time, judging by the accent. God, had they chased her here on the next plane, the moment the Internet got hold of the story?

      ‘Nearly there,’ Dylan murmured, right by her ear, his head bowed next to hers. His short hair brushed against her temple, and despite herself, his nearness made her feel just a little safer. Which she supposed was the point.

      Finally, the doors to the Chatsfield Hotel swung open before them, held by a smartly liveried staff member, and Bethany ducked inside, Dylan still pressed close behind her. The doors were pushed closed, and suddenly a blissful silence echoed through Bethany’s aching head, punctured only by the sound of heels on the polished floors.

      ‘Ms Lord,’ the approaching woman said, smiling as if there wasn’t a horde of rabid paparazzi just outside the doors. ‘I’m Valerie Davies, and I’ll be looking after you during your stay at the Chatsfield. If you and your staff would care to follow me? Your things have already been delivered to your suite.’

      The trappings of fame, Bethany had discovered over the past few years, often caused more bother than they were worth. But the ability to skip check in and have her bags unpacked before she even arrived – not to mention the suite larger than her first apartment – were definitely worth it.

      Dylan followed them into the elevator, his looming presence looking uncomfortable in the ornately decorated space. Bethany found herself staring at the way his black-suited form repeated in endless reflections on the mirrored walls. Then suddenly his gaze met hers in the glass and she looked away again.

      Just ignore him, Neil had said. These guys are trained to be unobtrusive. You shouldn’t even really know he’s there unless you need him.

      Well, Neil clearly had no idea what he was talking about. How was she supposed to ignore six foot five of solid muscle and dark eyes?

      She looked up at the mirror again. Dylan had replaced his sunglasses, so all she could see was dark lenses. Was that so she couldn’t stare at him? Or so she couldn’t see him staring at her? She kind of hoped it was the latter, which was ridiculous.

      She sighed, and Valerie gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘Long journey?’

      ‘Something