The Bodyguard in Her Room

Step behind the hotel room doors of the Chatsfield, London…

In London for her latest Hollywood film’s press junket, up and coming actress Bethany Lord is hiding from a storm of scandal that could threaten everything she’s worked so hard to achieve. But little does she know that the biggest threat to her isn’t the press outside the Chatsfield, London, it’s the shocking sensual tension caused by man who has been sent to protect her!

The Bodyguard in her Room

Sophie Pembroke

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 like that,’ Bethany said, as if they both didn’t know exactly what was wearing her down today. Staff at a hotel like the Chatsfield would know everything about their celebrity guests. Valerie had probably been reading up on Bethany and her family before she came down to meet them. Which meant she probably knew more about what the press was saying about Bethany right now than she did herself.

Sighing again, Bethany looked down at her feet, since that seemed the only safe place not to meet someone’s eyes. Finally, the elevator came to a smooth stop, with a chiming sound as the doors opened. Thank God.

‘You’re in one of my favourite suites,’ Valerie said, perma-smile still in place. ‘I do hope you like it.’

‘I’m sure it will be lovely,’ Bethany replied, as gracefully as she could when her mind was screaming for people to just leave her alone, just for a while. Just long enough to process the last twenty four hours, to calm her racing brain, to ease away the tension in her neck and shoulders. Just long enough for her to get back in control, and be the Bethany Lord everyone expected her to be.

Because, right now? The persona was wearing thin.

Valerie opened the door to a tastefully elegant suite of rooms, complete with chaise longue and an ornate dressing table. It was beautiful, if not necessarily comfortable. Bethany figured it didn’t matter; she probably wouldn’t see much more than the bed anyway. Apart from tonight, her schedule was packed solid for the entirety of her stay. What was left of the evening was her one chance to regroup and refocus. To prepare herself to get through the next few days, until she could get home and take a trip to talk some sense into Megan…

Megan. She really had to call Megan.

‘Would you like me to arrange any entertainment for you for this evening?’ Valerie asked, as Bethany took in the room. ‘The Chatsfield has connections at the best restaurants, theatres, clubs—’

‘No. No, thank you.’ That was the last thing she wanted. Too many people, too much talk, too much noise. Too many pairs of eyes, watching her every move. Besides, it was already getting late, and she was about ready to pass out. Or she would be, if her brain would just stop whirring.

‘Actually, I think I’d rather have a quiet evening in.’ Her gaze flickered almost involuntarily to the figure loitering in the corner. Dylan had the window blind between two fingers, peering outside, apparently unconcerned by their conversation. What was he looking at, anyway?

Valerie followed her line of sight, and gave her a knowing smile. ‘I understand entirely.’

Bethany’s eyes widened. ‘No, I mean, I need to get some sleep. Actual sleep,’ she added when Valerie’s smile grew. ‘Oh never mind.’

‘Don’t worry, Ms Lord. Everyone here at the Chatsfield has signed a confidentiality agreement with regards to our guests. Our discretion is assured.’

Yeah, because that always worked. Bethany knew better than to rely on other people to keep her secrets. Just one more reason she really needed to talk to Megan.

‘Trust me,’ Bethany said, with one last attempt to stop the gossip. ‘I’m not going to be doing anything tonight that requires discretion. All I want is a quiet evening and an early night. Alone.’

‘I understand entirely,’ Valerie said, her tone making it clear that she totally didn’t. ‘Now, if there’s nothing more you need…?’

‘I’m fine, thank you.’ All she needed was to be left alone. Who would have thought that could be so hard?

Valerie backed out of the room, the door clicking closed behind her, and suddenly Bethany was alone with the suit full of muscles.

‘I don’t suppose I can persuade you to leave me alone too, can I?’ She hated feeling uncertain in what should be her own space. All she wanted to do was strip down to her pants, pull on the oversized tee shirt she slept in, and crash out watching trashy TV for the night. She could call room service, maybe have a glass of wine, a bubble bath… whatever she wanted.

But not while he was there, watching her. And not until she’d called Megan.

‘I am contracted to stay by your side and ensure your safety, ma’am.’ His face remained expressionless, as if it made no real odds to him what she did, as long as it didn’t interfere with his pay cheque.

Bethany took a deep breath, and gazed around the suite. Despite its elegant decoration, it lacked the one thing she truly wanted. Doors.

Oh, there was one between the main areas and the bathroom, although Bethany would bet money it didn’t have a lock – no need, really, in a suite like this. But the lounge area, with its low table in front of the uncomfortable looking chaise longue, was open to the bedroom. She could see the king-sized bed, covered in a mountain of cushions, from where she stood. It was extravagant, expensive, luxurious… and open.

She considered Dylan again. There had to be some way she could get rid of him. Even if it was just long enough for her to call Megan. She had no doubt that he would try to make himself unobtrusive, just as Neil had promised. But somehow, her gaze kept being drawn back to him. How was she supposed to relax just knowing he was sitting there, minding her?

‘If you wish, I could wait outside the door,’ Dylan offered, face still impassive. ‘Once I’ve checked all the windows at least. You’re at the front of the hotel here, and the gaggle is still out front, waiting for you.’

‘Of course they are.’ Bethany sank down onto the chaise longue. It was every bit as uncomfortable as it looked. Resting her forearms on her knees she looked up, directly into the mirror that leaned against the wall over the dressing table. Her cosmetics and personal items had already been unpacked and laid out in front of it. Her moisturiser, her make up bag, her photo frame with a picture of her and Megan, circa 2008. Before her sister got married, anyway.

And there, above all those things that looked like home, was the reflection of a stern-looking man in a dark suit. I really can’t get away from him, can I?

She could send him to sit outside her door like some sort of guard dog, but her ingrained manners – a lingering leftover from her grandmother – just wouldn’t let her. But what was the other option?

‘Or I could just take advantage of the second bedroom,’ Dylan added and, for a second, she almost saw a hint of a smile as he pointed towards a doorway she hadn’t noticed. This one had no door either, but Bethany knew that even if it had, he wouldn’t have closed it. He’d made it very clear when they met that he wouldn’t be letting her out of his sight.

Where you go, I go. I can’t protect you if I can’t see you.

The words had sent a shiver down her spine, or maybe it had been the way those dark eyes locked to hers to make sure she understood.

She understood. She was stuck with this guy. And, even if he was hot as hell, that wasn’t a good thing.

‘You chose this suite on purpose didn’t you?’ she asked, peering into the second bedroom. It was far smaller than her own, with just a plain single bed in it. No elaborate decoration, no luxury. That wasn’t a bedroom for a Chatsfield guest. It was a room for staff – or, in this case, a minder.

Dylan’s expression remained blank. ‘It makes sense to have a space where I can protect you.’

‘Spy on me, you mean.’ Bethany knew it was unfair, but she couldn’t help it. The frustration of being constantly under observation from the press was just compounded by the idea of not even being able to be alone in her own bedroom for the night.

‘It’s like I told you,’ Dylan said, irritatingly unruffled. ‘I can’t protect you if I can’t see you.’

Bethany stared at him for a long moment, wishing there were some argument she could make, that she could just throw a diva fit and demand he leave. But she wasn’t that sort of actress, that sort of person, and she had no desire to develop a reputation as such – especially when it would get back to a director and production team she liked, respected and hoped to work with again.

So instead, she sighed and got slowly to her feet, the weight of the day heavy on her shoulders.

‘I need to make a phone call,’ she said, heading towards the slight privacy of her own bedroom. Maybe she could call Megan from the bathroom… ‘Try not to eavesdrop.’

‘I never do, ma’am,’ Dylan replied.

Bethany wasn’t entirely sure she believed him.

Chapter Two

Dammit. He had a bolter on his hands, no doubt about it. She looked sweet as honey, and the boss had assured him that her director said she was a darling, but Dylan’s instincts had never been wrong before – and right now they were screaming at him that Bethany Lord was going to run.

Oh, maybe not right now. She wasn’t stupid. She’d make her phone call, feign tiredness and a desire for an early night, probably. And then, when she thought his guard was down, she’d try and slip out.

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