“The pictures only came out six days ago. It hasn’t fully hit you yet since you’re still in my bubble, but we’re everywhere. Hell, we’re even trending on Twitter…along with Memphis and Gwyneth fucking Barclay.” The muscles in his face tighten. “Most of our fans are cool, but some are batshit. I can’t take the chance that one of them would hurt you.”
As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point. While I’m well aware of the photos being splashed everywhere, they haven’t really impacted my life because the people I associate with daily are either famous or members of the crew.
It’s going to be different when I’m back in the real world again.
Just yesterday, Mrs. Palma told me three reporters showed up at the house asking to speak with me.
I open my mouth to tell him thank you, but his next words send me reeling. “Which is exactly why they’ll be escorting you wherever you go after you’re back home.”
Hold. The. Phone.
“No, they won’t. I don’t need bodyguards tracking my every move.”
“Relax. It will only be for a month…” A hint of a smile teases his lips. “For now.”
I glare at him. “No.”
A weird thought occurs to me then. While I do believe Phoenix’s intentions are good, I also can’t help but wonder if this is his sick way of keeping tabs on me.
Which will only make it harder for us to sever ties.
“I don’t want your security following me around.”
Amusement flickers across his face. “It’s cute how you think you have a say in this.”
I bump into another woman on the street…only this time she promptly snaps a picture with her phone.
Awesome.
In a flash, she rushes toward us while calling out Phoenix’s name, which draws lots of attention.
“Shit.” He moves in front of me. “I knew we should have driven.”
Nerves creep in as more people gather around us. “Why didn’t we?”
“Because someone had a hangover which set us back several hours. And it’s quicker to walk than drive in the city.” I don’t miss the irritability in his tone, despite using his body to shield me from the flock of women trying to close in with outstretched hands…reaching for him.
The bodyguards quickly usher us into a nearby building.
“One week,” I concede as we wait for the small crowd outside the deli we were shoved inside to wane. “That’s it.”
Eventually this will all die down and I’ll be old news. I just have to ride it out for a bit.
Phoenix thanks the staff for letting us take cover and quickly poses for some photos.
“There’s an exit out back,” one of the bodyguards tells us.
Phoenix finishes scribbling his signature on the wall—via the owner’s request—and takes my hand. “Let’s go.”
After slipping out the rear door, we walk down some alley until we have no choice but to return to the main street.
Reaching into the pocket of his hoodie, Phoenix takes out an extra pair of sunglasses and hands them to me. “Put these on.”
I do without protest, even though we’re back to being inconspicuous people again.
A few minutes later, his steps come to a halt, and he looks up. “We’re here.”
I glance around and my stare snags on a street sign that says Central Park West. “Central Park?”
I’ve never been here before, so I’m excited.
That excitement fades, though, when Phoenix shakes his head. “Nope.”
Lacing our fingers again, he leads me to some Victorian Gothic-looking building.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful piece of architecture—in a mysterious and haunting kind of way—but I have no idea why he brought me here.
Maybe it’s a museum or an art gallery?
Dear God, please don’t be another World War II exhibit. I came dangerously close to falling asleep at the one George took me to on our date.
I’m even more baffled when Phoenix stops in front of a gate under an archway. I also notice another sign. Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point.
And an angry-looking doorman.
“No loitering.”
Given I don’t want to spend the rest of my afternoon in a jail cell, I tug on his hand. “Let’s go.”
Phoenix juts his chin at one of the security guards who walks over to the doorman and whispers something in his ear…then he slips him some cash.
The guy looks a lot friendlier after that.
“Ten minutes,” he tells Phoenix. “But I’m not allowed to let you go inside. You’d have to obtain special permission for that, and it’s above my pay grade.”