The Bodyguard's Catch

Chapter 3

"I suggest you reconsider. For now, though, Fantasie Impromptu? It suits my mood."

"Sure."

Silence reigned for a few moments after she finished playing the song and Jordyn sat still at the piano, hands in her lap, unsure what to do now the emotion was spent. She looked down at her hands and forced herself to calm nerves that wanted her to start twisting them together.

"Thank you, Jordyn. It was a privilege to hear you play. And a shame you're not planning on sharing it with the world. Though I do get not wanting to have the sort of life I have. Which leads us to the reason you're here in the first place. Come, sit with us. I have a proposition for you that's just occurred to me."

"Max, I'm not sure it's a good idea to share it with Jordyn until we've discussed it with Stash. We've already got something in mind."

Jordyn slowly got up from the piano and walked toward the seating area. She'd just as soon stay at the piano, thank you very much. Max was on one couch and Remo on the other. She didn't have the nerve to sit next to the celebrity like they were old friends, and she sure didn't want to sit next to Remo. He still had the ability to turn her brain to mush and she needed her wits about her. When Remo moved to relax into the corner of the couch, making room for her, the choice was made. The last thing she wanted to do was look foolish in front of Max—was she already thinking of him by that name?—and take the liberty of sitting all cozy on the couch with him.

"Before I tell you what I have in mind, Jordyn, I want to see the pictures you took." He held out his hand to Remo. "I need to know exactly what we're dealing with here."

She noticed his hand shook slightly as he held it out and there was a grim look on his face, a weary droop to his shoulders. Not good. For him or her. The man was suffering and she had no desire to add to his pain. She also had no desire to live the crazy, focused life of a concert pianist. But how in the world was she going to get the money she needed? She wasn't savvy enough for the situation she was in. If she was, her phone would've been in her pocket as soon as she'd finished using it, and she'd have it password locked. No matter how much of a pain in the neck it was to enter a password every time she wanted to use it.

She thought she'd go crazy waiting and wondering, as he looked through the pictures, and she wanted to squirm in her seat when he played the video. If it had been her in that scene, she'd die of humiliation watching it in front of people she knew, much less a stranger. Maximillian Chanteur was either good at hiding his feelings or used to watching his personal life being replayed, because he didn't look any different after he was done and handed the phone back to Remo.

"Those are the best photos I've seen taken by the paparazzi, bar none. However—and I know you're not going to like this—that video needs to disappear. Take care of that now, Remo."

"Hey, that's my phone. You have no right to mess with its contents."

Remo ignored her—no surprise there—and she lunged across the couch to grab it from him. He merely turned his shoulder to her and held the phone out of her reach as he deleted the video. She barely stopped herself from climbing onto his lap in order to reach it. Instead, she shoved at his shoulder before leaning back into the couch and crossing her arms. She clenched her teeth to stop herself from adding to her indignity by saying something she shouldn't in front of her favorite singing artist. She needed to hear what his plan was. Maybe things wouldn't turn out as bad as she feared. After all, he'd only asked him to delete the video, not all the pictures. It was a good sign, right?

Max raised his brows, but didn't comment on the scene he'd witnessed. "You aren't really the paparazzi, are you Jordyn?"

"No."