Things are getting heated. Reports from Villavincencio, Colombia—where Gabriel Mendoza’s illegitimate son is purported to reside—has banned El Traficante from playing in any cinema.

Rocco ran his fingers through his hair and straightened the seven-hundred-dollar Charvet shirt. Surely someone would miss the exorbitantly priced clothes he’d essentially stolen from his photo shoot that morning, but he was already running late for his early afternoon meeting because the crew had been ill-prepared and the female model had been a world-class diva on set. He’d left the matching silk tie thrown somewhere in the backseat of his car, undone the top two buttons of the shirt, and didn’t even bother to remove his Aviators from his face. This was a ridiculous meeting and he did not want to be there.

A bodyguard was overkill.

The utilitarian-looking warehouse that housed ICS wasn’t in a neighborhood he’d normally frequent. But he had to admit, once he walked inside, that everything seemed top-of-the-line and expensive, not at all what he had expected from the area or the building. “I’m here for a meeting. My name is Rocco Monroe,” he said to the young man at the reception desk, knowing full well that he’d known who he was the moment he walked through the door. Everyone did. It wasn’t arrogance, it was fact.

“One moment, Mr. Monroe.” The guy pressed a button and spoke into the phone. A minute later the guy led him down a long hall, pipes and ducts purposely exposed overhead, with maps from all over the world, as well as clocks with different time zones, hung in strategically placed locations.

“Welcome to ICS, Mr. Monroe,” a large man, taller than him, said, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket. Rocco, at six-three, was often the tallest person in the room, but the man in front of him had him beat, and not just in height, he was also a lot wider. His handshake was firm and confident. “I’m Jackson Irons. You can call me Jax.” Then Rocco turned to the other two people in the room for the usual introductions, his eyes moving directly to the tall, strawberry blond, hazel-eyed beauty who stood across the wide conference room table. He took his glasses off his face as his breath caught in his throat. He barely heard Jax speak. “This is the other owner of ICS—Josef, or Joey, Clad.” Rocco shook the man’s hand, barely registering his presence. “And this is Annabelle Clad.”

“Annie,” she corrected, sharply. He took her small hand in his large one, and almost dreamily shook it. If there was a thing as lust at first sight, he’d just experienced it. He didn’t want to let go—she was soft and feminine, and sexy as hell.

But then he came back to reality and his heart plummeted when he processed the last name. Was this Joey’s wife?

Lucky fucking bastard.

“Would you like anything to drink, Mr. Monroe?” Jax asked.

“Please, call me Rocco. And water would be great, thank you.”

“Annie, would you mind—” Joey began, but she gave him a look that would make lesser men quiver and instead Joey smartly pressed the intercom in the center of the table and asked whoever was on the other end to bring in a few bottles of water.

Rocco couldn’t help himself and the words just flew out. “I’m sorry, but are you two married?”

She laughed, humorlessly. “No. I would never be married to a misogynistic pig like Joey.”

“Would you stop saying that? I’m not misogynistic.”

“They’re siblings,” Jax explained, and then turned to the two. “I told you both to shut up.”

What kind of mom and pop shop had NHN sent him to? NHN was arguably the most powerful movie studio in the world, they would undoubtedly hire the best, but these three did not seem professional. In fact, they didn’t look like they could secure their own building much less Rocco and all the hoopla that came with being a famous actor. But the woman was gorgeous, so gorgeous he couldn’t help but stare and imagine her flinging around orders in the office.

Too fiery for a secretary.

Definitely the office manager.

In fact, for the first time since learning about needing a bodyguard, he was excited. Maybe he’d get to come to ICS often for meetings and hopefully Annie would be there with all that thick hair, and red lips, and . . .

A cough from next to him jolted him out of his lustful thoughts. “Mr. Monroe, how is it that ICS can help you, exactly?” Shit, her brother had caught him staring. He wasn’t a fool. He’d learned from a long list of affairs that brothers could be overprotective. He didn’t have siblings himself, but if he did, he wouldn’t want his sister eye-fucked by a stranger.

Before Rocco could answer, the guy who’d escorted him into the room moments earlier came in and placed three bottles of water and three glasses on the table and then stepped out. Annie stood and leaned forward to hand him one, and he couldn’t help notice her outfit. Technically, her black top and black pants were practical and professional for her line of work, but the entire outfit was so tight, she might as well have been wearing a black catsuit. Never in his entire life—not with the countless starlets he’d worked with and dated—had he ever seen a sexier outfit.

Joey’s eyes narrowed in on him, and he realized he’d been inappropriately starting at Annie again.

“Mr. Monroe,” Joey practically snarled. Notably not calling him Rocco.

Annie was too distracting. He cleared his throat and turned to Joey. Why was he here, again? Oh yeah . . . riots, Colombia, decapitation photo . . . “As you’ve read in the NDA and probably have seen all over the news, I’m going to be playing Gabriel Mendoza, the Colombian drug lord, in a new NHN film. Unfortunately, this has become quite controversial and people seem to be unhappy I’m the one playing him. So, I’ve been getting some . . .” He shook his head side to side weighing the words. “Not-so-nice fan mail.”

“Adam from NHN called it hate mail. He said you’ve been getting death threats,” Joey responded. Rocco chanced a glance at Annabelle, who was sitting quietly taking some notes. She was all business, professionalism oozing off her, not at all wowed by his fame and charm.

Huh . . . That’s a first.

“Adam exaggerates. The entire studio is up in arms. It’s not that big of a deal, people will get over it. Once I did a print ad for Ralph Lauren and my car was vandalized with the words, ‘Bring Jase back!’” He laughed at the memory, and when none of them seemed to understand, he added: “Jase was the previous Ralph Lauren model.”

“Oh. Well, okay.” Jax shrugged. “So what exactly is it that you need from ICS?”

“Personally, I don’t need a thing from ICS, with all due respect. I’m capable of fending off a few overzealous fans or haters. The studio, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to agree with me. There is a stipulation in my contract that I must have security on me at all times until the film is produced.”

Joey and Jax looked at each other. “Okay, so you need a bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard.” He scrunched his nose. “Such an extreme term, no?”

Joey leaned forward and opened a folder, skimming something. “Says here, twenty-four-seven security. Armed.” He closed the folder and looked back at Rocco, crossing his arms and sitting back. “By definition, that’s a bodyguard, Mr. Monroe.”

Rocco glared at Joey. “Fine. Bodyguard, if that’s what you want to call it. But I have a life, I have commitments. I don’t need, nor want, someone hovering over me as if I’m incapable of defending myself. I also have a personal life and I don’t want some man hanging around, making my guests feel uncomfortable, while I’m entertaining.”

Finally, Annie spoke, her demeanor casual, sitting back on the chair, her legs crossed, her spine straight. “Our staff are professionals. They would not be there to make anyone feel uncomfortable. Further, we can’t protect someone who refuses to cooperate. We require compliance. No amount of money from you or from NHN will change that. If you are unwilling to cooperate, ICS will be unable to assist you, Mr. Monroe.”

Fuck, she was feisty. He looked over at the men, thinking they were going to shut her down. He was, after all, a high-profile client whom NHN was surely paying top dollar for. This was the assignment of a lifetime for a small security firm like ICS.

“She’s right. You cooperate or we will simply part ways. Up to you, Mr. Monroe,” Jax added. It wasn’t hostile, just matter-of-fact.

Damn it. Paul’s words replayed in his mind. He needed to be cooperative or Spelling would find someone else who was. This film would be his big break from sex symbol to serious actor. He took a gulp of water and cracked his knuckles.

“I’ll cooperate. I give you my word. But I want someone low profile. Discreet. It’s unnecessary and inconvenient.” And it was a blow to his ego. What would his fans think?

“All our employees have had extensive military training and are armed at all times. They are all skilled and can surely be discreet, but if you’re in danger, they will take a man down, Mr. Monroe. When we pull the trigger, we aim to kill,” Joey said, his features tense. He looked annoyed by Rocco’s presence. He didn’t seem to be the kind of man who wanted to impress him in order to get the gig. And even though Rocco should have been pissed by the fact Joey wasn’t trying to kiss his ass, it was oddly refreshing.

“That’s fine. I would expect that, although I’m perfectly capable of taking a man out myself.” He heard a snort come out of Annie’s mouth, but Joey and Jax both gave her a death glare. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, then went back to writing something down.

Why he couldn’t take his eyes off her, he didn’t understand. She was beautiful but she showed absolutely no interest in him. In fact, she looked completely unimpressed. Day after day, women went through shameful lengths to get his attention and this woman seemed completely indifferent.

Rocco shifted in his chair and turned his attention back to Jax. “I don’t want to be seen around town with a man at my side twenty-four-seven.” What kind of pussy would that make me—the action star, the heartthrob—needing a bodyguard? “This is all bullshit, but it’s bullshit I have to put up with for NHN. So he needs to stand behind me, try to blend in. As little communication as possible.”

“And not disturb you while you’re . . . entertaining,” Annie added, using air quotes for the last word.

“Jesus Christ, Annie, would you please just shut your mouth,” Joey groaned.

Rocco, however wasn’t insulted. In fact, he chuckled. Maybe I’ll ask her out after the meeting.

“We understand. We have shadows. It’s not a problem. The contract NHN sent over says that they need us to begin in a week. Is that correct?” Jax asked.

“Yes. We start initial shooting at a studio and in various sites here in Miami. Some shots will be done on location, though.”

Joey’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought the location shots were cancelled.”

“They were, but it’s looking as some of them will be back on. And, of course, the studio will cover all the expenses.”

“The majority of the problems are taking place in Colombia. So if the shoots abroad end up happening we may need to send you with additional men.”

“No. Just one. I stand firm on that.”

Joey clicked and swiped quickly on his iPad as he spoke. “How ’bout we discuss that if and when it happens? Meanwhile, we have a few guys that I think you’ll find will fit your needs for this immediate job.”

As he pulled up some head shots, Annie, who had been relatively quiet and looking introspective, interrupted. “I’ll do it! I can do it,” she said, this time a little less eagerly.

“Annie . . .” Joey warned.

Rocco couldn’t help but laugh. Was she being serious?

“What’s so funny?” Annabelle’s voice was hard and dangerous, definitely not the response he was used to.

“Wait? You’re being serious?” Rocco’s eyes darted over her in a thorough once-over. Sure, she looked toned and definitely hot, but he was certain she wasn’t what the studio had in mind. At all. He wasn’t trying to be a dick, and he instantly regretted laughing, it just caught him off guard that she had volunteered.

“Dead serious. I know hand-to-hand combat, I can hit a target the size of a baseball with my Glock from a football field away, and I can hack into almost any computer system.”

“I’m sure you’re lethal, honey.” That body—it looked deadly. But there was no way a woman who looked like she did was capable of protecting him. He kept saying all the wrong things, apparently. Because she looked pissed off. The fact was, he thought her beautiful and would love to spend more time with her on a personal level. In fact, he was looking forward to it. But as a bodyguard? No. That just didn’t make sense.

She was . . . a girl.

He reached for the iPad Joey had offered and looked back down to the head shots, swiping over the screen one by one. The sound of Annie’s chair, grating roughly against the floor when she stood up abruptly, caused him to look up. Annoyance was written all over her face as she walked toward him.

“Stand up,” she demanded. Rocco’s smile faded and his brows furrowed. “Uh . . . what?”

“Stand up.” This time she said it even more demandingly and through gritted teeth.

“Annabelle. Stop it,” Joey barked, this time pounding a fist onto the desk, but Annie ignored him. Faintly, Rocco heard Jax yelling too, but he was mesmerized by whatever it was that Annabelle wanted with him. So he stood up as instructed.

As he did she took slow, long—sexy as fuck—steps toward him. Her movements were controlled and restrained, her expression muted. Damn, are those black high heels? The phrase femme fatale popped into his head.

Her eyes never left his, and holy fucking shit—his dick stirred. Those long as fuck legs moved—no, sauntered—over his way.

Did she want to talk with him in private?

Hell yeah. He’d go anywhere private with her. Maybe having her as a bodyguard would have a hell of a lot of benefits. It was only a few months, after all.

Her waist was small, her hips flared slightly, and her tits were full but not overly large. A good handful, he noted. As she got closer he noticed the sexy little mole by her left eye.

That’s what he was looking at when suddenly he was airborne.

Somehow she’d done some crazy-ass ninja move involving swinging his arm painfully back, shifting her body, hunching over and flipping him onto his back. The cold cement floor uncomfortably pressing against him, her ass was now planted on his chest and he was eye level to her pussy. “You need to tone down the cocky, Mr. Monroe. You cannot take care of yourself . . . clearly. And don’t you ever fucking call me honey again. First and last warning.” She tapped his shoulder and stood up. “You need me.” She said it more to her brother than to Rocco, it seemed.

Ugh . . . His back would hurt tomorrow.

But not more than his pride.

She extended her hand and helped pull him back to his feet.

Joey and Jax were leaning over the table, about to climb it, their eyes saucerlike and murderous. “Annabelle!” Jax, who had been calm, roared.

“What the fuck, Annie!” Joey barked. “You’re fucking fired. I don’t care if you’re my sister!”

“Like I said, earlier, Josef, suck my dick. I quit. Try working the calendaring system without me, asshole.” She walked around Rocco, whose mouth hung open and breathless from the surprise assault. He’d never seen a woman that feisty before. And Jesus Christ it was turning him the hell on. “Oh, and wait until I tell Mom,” she added, her back to them.

After she slammed the door behind her, Rocco straightened his shirt, adjusted the silver cuff links, and ran his fingers through his hair. What the hell had just happened? He had never been more wrong in his life. The woman wasn’t just capable, she was a total badass. Why wasn’t her head shot in the iPad with the rest of the ICS employees?

Joey and Jax rushed around the table, awkwardly, looking unsure as to how to help.

“I am so sorry for my sister’s behavior, Mr. Monroe.”

“Sorry?” He chuckled. She could absolutely blend in, pretend to be his girlfriend, and no one would know he required a bodyguard. “I want her. She’s perfect. She’s fucking hired.”