Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Keep resting,” Cassidy had whispered near his ear, voice still rough from sleep, low, warm and gravel-deep. His soft beard brushing along the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go to my room to handle some things.”
That voice should’ve been illegal before coffee.
He’d mumbled a breathy, half moan, “Okay,” and Cassidy went still behind him.
Xander felt the subtle tightening of that powerful body. The faint, barely restrained groan that left Cassidy’s throat before he caught it. And God help him, Xander’d felt something else too.
Morning arousal, thick and unmistakable against his hip, separated only by a thin layer of linen and the discipline of a man trying hard to be a gentleman.
Xander’s face went hot as he finished buttoning his jeans.
Apparently, his body had decided fear, trauma, sleep deprivation, and lust could all live in the same crowded gut.
He threaded his belt, buckled it, then pulled on a crisp white Polo button-up. It was casual but polished. He slid on a pair of white Nike tennis shoes, then went into the bathroom to groom himself, taking more time to tame his hair than usual.
He ran product through the deep waves, working the longer blond strands away from his face while leaving enough volume at the top to keep it from looking too intentional. The sides were swept back, and he slid a narrow black elastic band across the crown to tame the fly-aways.
Lastly, he reached for the small square bottle tucked in his toiletry case.
His fragrance. Bespoke.
The perfume was made for him in Grasse, France. A rare splurge after he’d secured the Laroste cologne deal.
It had taken the master perfumer four months to create, sending tiny vials back and forth across the Atlantic until it was perfect.
He dabbed a little on each side of his neck.
When he realized he was primping, he left the bathroom, grabbed his phone off the nightstand, and turned it on.
It lit up like a warning flare—twenty-nine missed calls and nineteen unanswered texts.
Xander grimaced. “Good morning to you too.”
Most of them were from Jesse, Carla, and Elliot. Manager, publicist, and personal assistant. The three-headed monster who never let him have more than a few moments of peace.
There were a couple of calls from his agent, one from Wes and Law, Devyn, and an alarming amount from numbers he didn’t recognize.
His team were the last people he wanted to deal with, but he didn’t have the luxury of checking out of life no more than anyone else.
He opened Jesse’s thread first and immediately wished he hadn’t.
CALL ME.
XANDER CALL ME RIGHT NOW. BETTER YET ANSWER YOUR PHONE!
ARE YOU SAFE? WHERE ARE YOU???
WHY AM I HEARING THIS SHIT FROM THE NEWS?
CHECK SM
LOOK AT THE ENTERTAINMENT SITES!
DAMNIT Z…….ANSWER ME!!!!
Xander’s stomach tightened.
He opened the browser and pulled up the most popular entertainment news site—The Marquee Wire.
The headline hit before the page fully loaded.
BREAK-IN REPORTED AT XANDER VALE’S HOLLYWOOD HILLS RESIDENCE AMID ONGOING SECURITY CONCERNS.
His eyes widened.
The article had a video embedded at the top. He tapped it and a reporter appeared on-screen, standing in front of the gate to his house. It was barely visible as the camera zoomed in from two hundred, fifty feet away.
The lights were still out—except for the red and blue police lights moving across the landscape—making the scene look that much more sinister.
Then there was footage of Ruxs, Green, and Steele crossing his property, big, confident and moving with purpose.
The reporter started again.
“It’s unfortunate that the award-winning Xander Vale appears to remain a highly targeted figure during what should be one of the biggest moments of his career. Sources confirm there was another break-in at Vale’s secluded Laurel Canyon Heights residence at approximately ten-fifteen tonight. Details remain limited, but neighbors reported police activity, possible shots fired, and what appeared to be a private security response shortly after the incident.
“At this time, representatives for Vale have not issued a formal statement. The LAPD could not confirm whether the break-in is connected to the recent attack on actor and stunt performer Devyn Frost outside Stage 8 earlier this week, an incident many believed was intended for Vale himself.”
Xander’s throat tightened.
The video jumped to a photo of him from a premiere, smiling like a man who had no clue he was about to end up on a hitlist.
“This comes as Vale is reportedly nearing the end of filming the highly anticipated sequel to What Breaks in Silence, the role that earned him a wave of awards nominations, and one of Hollywood’s most sought-out openly gay leading men.”
Then the footage returned to his property.
Ruxs and Green stood near the side yard.
Damnit.
The reporter concluded.
“The most intriguing question is, who are the unidentified men seen moving around Vale’s property not long after police arrived? Several witnesses described them as quote, ‘not regular-looking bodyguards.’ Whether these men are part of his new private security, remains unclear.”