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Sneak Peek…
Her gaze landed once more on the letters printed on the door, stating roof access and the implications of Bellamy being up here registered as a warning bell in her mind. Dear Lord, why had they allowed such a thing in his unstable condition? Then she realized the band didn’t suspect he was suicidal. They believed he had a drug and alcohol problem he was trying to kick.
Leon opened the door and they took a flight of stairs to another door and opened it. The bright sunlight blinded her at first until her vision adjusted. She spotted Bellamy standing on the ledge a few feet in front of her. Fear rose up inside of her like a tangible force that urged her to go to his rescue. Her legs carried her swiftly and her hands grabbed his dress shirt with some kind of wild print on it, and she yanked him toward her.
Bellamy’s hands flew out in front of him as if to grab onto something to steady his fall. “What the–” Her cry of alarm muffled Bellamy’s curse when she realized he was going to land on top of her, but at the last millisecond, Bellamy twisted, grabbing hold of her as he fell onto his back with her sprawled on top of him in an unseemly manner. Her hair had come loose from the knot at the back of her neck. Her glasses were askew on her nose and she tried to adjust them as she pulled on her blouse, which had risen above her waste. Bellamy’s hot hands were on her flesh and for a moment she’d forgotten to breathe. She met his startled gaze and his lips pursed into a fine line.
“What is wrong with you, lady?” he said and shoved her away, not exactly rough but with a purpose to be as far away as possible from her.
She sat in a heap next to him, feeling a bit deflated that he didn’t appreciate her attempt to help. “I was saving you,” she said and lifted her chin.
“Saving me? Lady, you almost sent me tumbling over the edge.”
“I most certainly did not,” she sputtered. “And what were you doing up there, anyway? Who stands on a ledge and not think: Hey, I might fall to my death.” She rolled her eyes and that seemed to set him off.
His nostrils flared and he looked like he wanted to say more on the matter, but then he turned toward Leon, who stood there with his arms folded against his chest and his lips appeared to be twitching as if he were holding back a full out smile.
“You need to fire the security guard,” Bellamy stated, “that allowed this crazy broad up here.” He flew to his feet and brushed off his white pants that were smudged with dirt from the gravel rooftop. He flipped his curly hair away from his bright and beautiful blue eyes. God, he was handsome. A lean five-foot-ten, he appeared taller than he truly was, or maybe it was because she was still sprawled at his feet.
Leon cleared his throat. “Bellamy, I want you to meet your personal assistant.”
It took Bellamy a moment to realize what Leon meant, and then he shook his head. “No. Absolutely, no.” He narrowed his eyes on her, and she scrambled to her feet as graceful as she could, considering how she ended up there.
“I’m Evie Reid.” She extended her hand.
He stared at her outstretched palm for a second then leveled his gaze on Leon. “I don’t need a personal assistant, and especially one who thinks attacking a person is a great tactic to get to know each other.” He turned on his heels, and murmured something in Romanian, which she knew he spoke since his parents were both from there. She loosely translated it as Crazy chicks are not my thing.
“Well yeah,” she shouted back. Then decided to play his game and spoke in Romanian too. “Good thing I’m not crazy then.” Loosely translated of course, but that seemed to catch his attention for about a second. He turned around and met her gaze in what she believed was supposed to intimidate her, but she refused to look away. “Giving me the evil eye doesn’t work.” She stared back and he dropped his gaze first.
He harrumphed and grumbled something that she was sure hadn’t been flattering, and continued on his way to the door that would lead him back inside the hotel.
“Well, that went splendidly,” she muttered. “Why was he up here anyway?”
“Sorry, should have warned you. It’s his thing. When we’re about to begin a tour, he heads for the roof of the first hotel we stay at, to meditate and put him in the right mindset, or so he says.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “For good luck, I guess,” he added.
“And I just messed that up.”
“Don’t worry, I have hope he’ll warm up to you. You did speak Romanian to him, right? Usually, he’s thrilled.”
Maybe, she thought, but not if he believed she was crazy.
