Surrendering To Her Sergeant (31 page)

So yeah, despite everything they’d
been through this week and what they’d never have again, her heart
lurched for him. No matter what, he was a friend. If he needed a
commiserating ear, then—

As soon as her gaze found his face,
she blinked in perplexity.

Maybe it was just an anomaly, that his
expression seemed tight but determined…and nearly as peaceful as
the waves lapping at the sand a few feet way.

Huh?

Shouldn’t he be seething
and tense? Shouldn’t he be looking for an escape to go call Franzen
with a string of
what the
fuck
s? Why did he just keep standing there,
arm still dutifully around Bella, seeming damn near resigned about
all this?

The party was awash in custom lighting
but she suddenly felt trapped in the dark. It wasn’t a sensation
that sat well with her, not since those days she and Zoe had spent
wondering what had happened to Mom and not being told anything
until it was too late.

On unwavering steps, she moved to the
side of Ethan not occupied by Bella’s clinging form. In a discreet
murmur, she offered, “Should I get that hair fixed now?”

As she’d hoped, Bella gushed in
gratitude. After shoving Ethan at her, the starlet moved away,
phone in hand, determined to make the news of their sessions with
Fulsom into a viral buzz inside of ten minutes. Ethan said nothing,
becoming a silent shadow as Ava rushed inside, leading him down a
deserted hallway.

She stopped when she was reasonably
certain they wouldn’t be seen or heard, though Ethan got the first
word in.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She already had some fresh hair serum
in her palm, and rubbed her hands together with briskness that
defied her tone. “I’m fine, Sergeant. How about you? What’s
new?”

“I, uh—
ow
!” He exclaimed it as she worked
the new product in with the old, making her fingers stick for a
second. Damn it, even with all the goop in his hair, it filled her
grip with a heady combination of strength and softness. “I think
you know the answer to that one, Miss Chestain.” He emphasized his
formality with a sarcastic snarl.

“Really?” she shot back. “Do I,
now?”

“What’s that supposed to
mean?”

She was about to give him a finishing
sweep with a wide-toothed comb. Instead, she parked that hand
against her hip and eyed him for a long moment. When she spoke
again, it was with quiet conviction.

“What’s going on, Ethan?”

He dipped his head. “I guess we’re
going to go take a lot of pictures.”

“And you’re really this calm about
it?”

He jutted his jaw and looked down the
hall. “Guess I have to be.”

“Then why won’t you look at me and say
it?”

With an angry grunt, he
lifted his head. But the second his stare tore into hers, his ire
transformed to something else, an emotion she couldn’t place,
intense and conflicted. The force of it pulled at every muscle in
her body…and reawakened every nerve in her sex. Holy shit, how
could the man do this to her with one look?
Why
was he doing this to her with one
look? He was with Bella. Belonged with her. End of story. Someone
cue the dramatic music and the happily-ever-after sunset backdrop,
please.

“Ava.” It finally fell from him on a
guttural rasp. His chest rose and fell, betraying more of his inner
battle. “Please don’t push. Not now.”

For a second, his urgent voice
rendered her without one. She blinked again, processing the
realization that the tickles of her instinct were founded in
truth—a truth that had made Ethan, a man who took orders from
nobody except his superiors, pleading with her to back the hell
away. “Don’t push at what?”

The perfect cliffs of his features
fell into deeper shadow.

“
Ethan?” She took a step
toward him, cocked her head, and glared. “Damn it, talk to me.
Don’t push at
what
?”

The next moment, as he watched someone
appear around the corner, his features darkened into deep secrecy
again. The moment was gone.

“My
dolce
Ava!”

She spun at Enzo Lemare’s greeting.
The man approached with a champagne flute in each hand, his
deep-set Roman eyes sweeping over her. After a gallant bow, he
offered her one of the glasses.

“Mr. Lemare,” she murmured. “Errmm,
thank you but I’m working tonight and—”

“Not anymore.” With the
aplomb of Caesar, the man pushed her hand up, urging her to take a
sip of the chilled Cristal. “I told Bella that since you’ll be
working very hard the next few days, you have the rest of the night
off.
And
you’re
enjoying dinner at my table, as my guest.”

She managed a smile but
there wasn’t a shred of comfort behind it. “That…is
so…sweet…”
Sweet
?
Did you seriously just use the same
word on Enzo Lemare that you pulled out to turn down Bobby Weller
for junior prom
? “But I’m—I’m not dressed
correctly—and look at my hair—”

“All right.” He stunned her into
silence by deftly yanking out the two pins that held together her
“style” then combing his fingers down, to bring it all tumbling
around her face. “If you insist.”

For some reason, every bone in her
body longed to run.

One look at Ethan convinced her
otherwise.

Though his lips were fixed in a
cordial expression, his eyes betrayed a different objective. The
potent desire to hurt Enzo Lemare.

Didn’t take the man long to return
with the mixed messages. Okay, despite Lemare’s insistence that
Ethan go to first name basis with him, an underline of tension
between them was a given. Bella had been with Lemare, at least for
a night, before scooping up Ethan. That had likely been filtered by
the Dominant side of Ethan’s brain into a degree of protective
jealousy. But the octane level of his glare was burning much
higher. He looked like he longed to remove the man’s spleen by
hand. Why?

Mierda
. She needed to go home, trade the champagne for a cup of
chamomile tea, and call it a night. No espionage books. No more
binge watching her favorite spy shows. Straight to bed with the vow
that Ethan was Bella’s concern now, no matter how much it ached to
do it…no matter how deep the certainty that the woman rarely
coupled the word “concern” with anything past crow’s feet and where
she ranked on the latest best-dressed lists.

The same certainty that made her
stomach fold over on itself.

Which was why she gritted a smile at
Lemare and allowed him to tuck her hand into the crook of his elbow
before guiding her into the ballroom for dinner.

* * * * *

She should have opted for the tea and
her pillow.

Two hours and a crap-load of
discomfort later, she was no closer to figuring out the purpose
behind Ethan’s cryptic words in the hallway. The man himself didn’t
turn over a single clue, spending the evening between his
whispering love cocoon with Bella and his robust “man chat” with
Enzo. That itself gave her eyebrows a nice workout. Ethan actually
looked like he enjoyed hashing out the finer points of his first
manicure, the nuances of a good chianti, and what shoe silhouette
was going to prevail over the fall and winter.

When Ava wasn’t biting back giggles,
she was swallowing back tears. Apparently, the interesting half of
the table ended at Enzo. Despite the producer’s attempts to include
her in their exchanges, Ethan barely acknowledged her beyond a few
polite nods. In short, he did everything he could to enforce his
command from out in the hall. Whatever door she’d been pushing at,
he wanted her off the stoop for good.

It hurt. She didn’t want it
to. She didn’t need it to. Damn it, wasn’t
she
the one who told
him
they’d be better off
this way? Then why was she the one who could only pick at her filet
and prawns, appetite gone and apprehension on high? Why was she the
one who couldn’t banish the memory of that brilliant blue gaze,
unwavering at her, filled with the same force of his words?
Ava. Don’t push.

It was finally time for dessert,
though even the triple-chocolate ganache wasn’t enough to keep her
at the table. As Bradley Cooper, the night’s master of ceremonies,
got up to announce they’d be starting the program soon, she
frantically looked for the door. Even a few minutes of respite from
Ethan and his weirdness would be Heaven.

“Needing some air,
mi dolce
?”

She smiled in real gratitude at Enzo.
Though his overtones of gallantry were a little excessive tonight,
she couldn’t blame the guy for wanting to lick the wounds Bella had
dealt by pouncing on Ethan two days after he’d left her bed. Enzo
would realize that in the morning, after the wine had worn off. In
the meantime, she appreciated him fabricating an excuse to take a
phone call in order to escort her out to the foyer, where she
scooted into the ladies room for some much-needed
solitude.

The break helped freshen her lipstick,
if not her senses. Like the tides hitting the beach outside, she
was awash in confusion one second but bright with clarity the next.
She didn’t care what Ethan did but watched his every move through
the night—and by doing so, had gotten another huge lesson in
puzzlement. Why did he fawn over Bella only when she was looking?
Why did his regard of Enzo swing to such extremes, openly admiring
one second but seething with animosity the next? And why did he
stare at everyone else in the room like they were all potential
suicide bombers?

She headed out from the bathroom with
a growing headache.

There was no sign of Enzo anymore. A
spattering of applause sounded from the ballroom, so she assumed
he’d gone back inside so as to not miss the start of the program.
She released a little sigh of relief. One last chance to get her
shit together before returning to Awkward Central.

There was a small buzz from her purse.
She smiled when pulling it out. A text from Charlie.

When the HELL were you
going to text me about Grant Fulsom?

“Oh, dear.” She murmured it on half a
giggle, making her way out to the patio to dash a quick retort. The
glowing, empty screen taunted her. This message had to be a doozy.
Something full of breezy yet witty remorse, ending with the kicker
that she’d been unable to message due to being occupied at dinner
with—

The man who stood on the patio now,
pacing intently with his cell at his ear.

Ava backed up as quietly as she could.
Wow. Enzo really did have a phone call to take. A hairy one, by the
looks of it. “Duh, Chestain,” she muttered while sinking into a
chair just inside the door to the patio. “The man isn’t at the top
of all the industry lists because he only takes calls until
six.”

She settled further into the cushion,
wondering if she could just ask Housekeeping to bring her a blanket
and tuck her in for a good night’s sleep in the luxurious thing.
“Focus,” she muttered, redirecting thoughts back on her message
back to Chaz. Shit, she was tired. The strain of the last four days
piled on her like a truckload of bricks, dragging her eyes
down.

Enzo’s voice, raised and ruthless,
stabbed the peace of her reverie.

“I am telling you that I have it
handled, Mateo. You and Alex caused this mess; now you will let me
clean it up with no more questions!”

For some reason, she kept her eyes
closed. There was no way the man could see her from this angle but
the viciousness in his voice told her this was no ordinary business
call. Her gut clutched. Her palms got clammy. She pressed herself
back, wishing the chair would simply swallow her.

“Do not worry about that. I
have them handled. Yes, all of them. Cameron’s idea on that is
proceeding perfectly. Of course he knows what he is doing. You know
what they say…keep your enemies close,
qué
no
?”

She wanted to squirm but kept herself
frozen. And the whole time, called herself ten kinds of an idiot.
Did she think production deals got negotiated over rainbow sprinkle
cupcakes and a round of wine spritzers? Men like Enzo were called
the big sharks for a reason.

Of course, the second she
entertained that thought, the man broke out with a warm and
friendly laugh. “Now that is what I was hoping to hear. Perfect,
perfect. We
must
work together, my friend. One hundred percent success is the
only acceptable benchmark, one we can only accomplish together.
Call Cameron Stock and I when you get into town. We shall want to
know you have gotten here safely and are ready to proceed.” After a
long pause, he went on, “Stock has that handled, as well. He is
interfacing with the relevant specialists on a daily
basis.”

That comment made her indulge a small
smile. Despite the mess it had created for her personally, it had
been satisfying to have Ethan, Rhett, and Rebel on set, recognized
for their expertise and service to the country.