Chapter Five
Meeting the bloggers had been much like the other interviews Elle had done, but the music show was live. Although it didn’t air until midnight, the afternoon and evening were spent rehearsing.
David had mentioned in his email that he hadn’t told Marcus about the BBC appearance, and Conrad was able to flit Elle in and out of the first interview quickly enough that Elle didn’t give the game away to Marcus. Marcus’s pedantry and controlling attitude put Elle more on edge than she needed to be right now. Plus, Marcus pissed Conrad off. A few hours without him on their case would be a blessing.
The TV studio set looked very nice from one angle, but behind the scenes everything was very utilitarian with whitewashed brick and linoleum floors.
The dressing rooms were a decent size, though, and the food provided for guests looked lovely.
“Thank you so much for filling in on such short notice,” the production manager said as he showed them around the set.
“Oh no. Thank you for the opportunity!” Elle replied.
“Well it’s my neck you’re saving, so I’m grateful.”
“I’ve watched the Julia Jones show for years. This is like a dream come true!”
“I’m so sorry you’ve been thrown in at the deep end. Usually the musical numbers are worked out weeks in advance.”
“Well, I’m sure I’ll muddle through. I’ll try not to make a fool of myself.”
“So good of you to step in like this.”
“Really, it’s good of you to have me. I can’t believe . . .”
Conrad almost smiled as he listened to how grateful these two people were to each other. It almost became a comical competition!
The show was hosted by Julia Jones, whose trademark was accompanying her musical guests, so Elle had brought the sheet music for her entire album. Julia decided she wanted Elle to perform her second single alone, an original composition called “Everywhere”, and accompany herself on the piano.
She said it would have a very stripped down, Adele vibe to it, but Conrad suspected that she didn’t want to learn a new song on such short notice. While the crew were very helpful, Julia was rather distant, and he’d heard her arguing with the director over something already.
He really hoped she remained professional because he’d rather disarm an IED than face off with a Diva.
For Elle’s second number, Julia would then accompany her, along with the house band, while she sang “The Sound of Silence.” It was a song they were all familiar with to a degree, so it was easier to learn.
Finally, Elle would finish with “My Funny Valentine,” which wasn’t on her album and wasn’t strictly a blues song, but it was popular and would work well with Elle’s voice. Conrad got the feeling that whoever had pulled out of the time slot had been intending to sing it, so the house band had practiced it, and the producers were determined to fit Elle’s round peg in their square hole.
Elle didn’t seem to mind the impositions, though.
Conrad had never realized that musicians could be put on the spot in this way. Their performances always seemed so effortless that he just assumed they could sit down and play sheet music flawlessly the first time. Then again, he supposed making it look effortless was part of being a professional.
The show was about an hour long without breaks, and Elle’s songs only took up ten minutes, not including chitchat, so she wasn’t the only guest. There were three other performers, two who were more famous than she was. Julia Jones also sang some solo numbers, so there was a fair amount of waiting around between rehearsals.
Because Elle introduced Conrad as her manager, no one thought it weird that he went everywhere she did or that she made her way over to him when she wasn’t needed.
They had been told that they could keep their phones on for now, but only on silent so as not to disturb the rehearsals. Elle opted to turn hers off since she hardly ever got any calls or texts anyway.
Conrad’s phone was set to silent, but it vibrated a couple of times with emails. First was Browning Investigations with the finished background reports on Elle’s ex-boyfriends. They were all squeaky clean, no red flags.
Midafternoon, he received another email from them in regard to the flower delivery.
The flowers had been ordered in person and paid for in cash, and unfortunately, the florist didn’t have CCTV. They were still searching for other cameras in the area that they might be able to access.
The florist was able to give a description of the person who ordered the flowers and she described him as late teens, early twenties, fairly average build, dark hair, and wearing a black hoodie.
It was pretty generic. Five people in the immediate vicinity would fit that description, but he’d been watching everyone, and none of them appeared overly interested in Elle.
He would have to hope they got something from surrounding CCTV cameras, but if the man was wearing a hoodie, there was every chance he’d raised the hood to obscure his face.
Conrad took a deep breath and relaxed by focusing on Elle. She was sitting at the piano practicing her original song. He had to admit that while he wouldn’t call himself a blues fan, he liked it. Mind you, with that voice, he’d probably enjoy her singing nursery rhymes.
When she was done, she bounded over to him, a big smile on her face. It took him a second to remember why she was so short; he’d convinced her to leave the platforms off this morning, and she’d listened.
This was the first real smile he’d seen since last night’s rushed exit from the hotel.
“All right?” she asked.
“I’m fine. You?”
“It’s going brilliantly. Just the dress rehearsal then we go live!” She grinned.
Conrad checked his watch, surprised to see it was later than he thought.
“Maybe we should grab a bite before you have to change then?”
“Okay, but I’m so nervous I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat anything!”
“Try,” he said with an indulgent smile.
The craft services table was filled with tempting goodies, and while Conrad loaded up his plate, he also added extra items to Elle’s. She smiled, amused by his need to try to fill her up.
They found a quiet corner and chatted about the show. Conrad asked her lots of questions, trying to distract her from her nerves.
“So when did you learn to play music?”
“Gran said since before I could walk, but I think that was a bit of an exaggeration,” she said with a smile.
“Is your family musical?”
She nodded, waiting to swallow before she answered. “My gran was a music teacher, and she taught Mum and me how to play the piano. I taught myself the guitar when I was a teenager because it seemed cooler,” she confided with a cheeky smile.
“Did you always want to be a singer?” He tilted his head curiously.
“Not necessarily, but I always knew I’d do something musical. Mum loved music, but she opted for a steady job in insurance. I can’t blame her, and I actually admire her for it, but she hated it. Gran didn’t make much as a music teacher, but she genuinely loved it. I decided that whatever I did, I’d always do what I loved. I guess I’m lucky that I haven’t faced the same financial pressures Mum did.”
He could sense that she was getting close to some unpleasant memories. As much as he’d like to know more about her history, he didn’t want to upset her on a day like today.
“So what did you do before David discovered you? At an open mic night, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” She grinned at the memory. “I was about torn about whether he was genuine or some perv trying to get laid.”
Conrad laughed. “How did you decide he was genuine?”
“He left his card with me, and I looked up his agency. But you were asking what I did before that. Well, I had a thrilling career helping other people hit the big time.” She flashed him a sly grin meaning she was joking. “Not really. I was a session singer and musician mostly, so I played music and sang backup vocals on records. I even toured with a couple of bands when I was fresh out of school.”
“I didn’t realize session musicians earned that much?”
“We’re quite well paid actually. The trouble is that the work is insecure. One month you’re turning work away. The next you can’t find anyone who wants you for love or money. That’s why I toured. It was guaranteed income for a few months, which helped keep me for the rest of the year. I also gave private lessons on the side, mostly to kids during the summer holidays.”
“Touring must have been fun.”
She grimaced. “For a while, but it soon loses its luster.”
“Is that why you stopped?”
“No. My gran became ill, and I didn’t want to be away from her too long. I moved back to her little cottage, so I didn’t need as much money to get by.” The sadness in her voice was unmistakable.
“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t going to pursue a line of questioning that made her unhappy. “So are you looking forward to tonight?”
She found a brilliant smile from somewhere and nodded. “Equal parts thrilled and terrified,” she confessed in a low voice, putting her plate down.
She was surprised to realize she’d eaten almost everything on her plate; nerves usually made her nauseous.
“Speaking of, I think it’s time I got ready.”
Like the rest of the building, her dressing room was utilitarian and slightly chilly, but the production manager assured them that they would be grateful once the set lights went on and the audience piled in.
The room had a large, well-lit mirror for her. Conrad watched as she styled her long black hair into loose curls and applied her makeup, all while humming to herself, warming her voice up.
He stayed by the door until she needed to change, then he discreetly slipped out into the corridor, where he pretended to play with his phone as he leaned against the wall.
When Elle emerged, she was wearing a black, off-the-shoulder evening gown, slit to midthigh. Her hair was swept over one shoulder, and she’d obviously applied perfume because a warm, spicy vanilla scent wafted around her.
“You look lovely,” he said, his usually cynical expression softening as he smiled at her.
“Thank you. Every little bit helps!” She grinned at him, doing a little twirl that exposed more leg and gave him very impure thoughts.
When she faced him again, their gazes locked, and they both felt unable to look away, their smiles slipping for a moment. Elle took a small step toward him.
“You look smashing, hon,” the production manager said as he approached, breaking whatever spell had come over them. “Let’s get you to the set. They’ll be starting soon.”
They both trailed after him and stepped into the organized chaos that was producing a live show.
During the live performance, the audience would be sitting behind the stage at little bistro-like tables, but they were missing from the dress rehearsal.
As Julia Jones began her intro, the artists were sitting at the front tables, except for the first performer, Andrea Childs, who was standing with a microphone ready to sing her first song.
Conrad’s phone suddenly began to blow up, vibrating every sixty seconds with texts from Marcus. The first text asked why the hell the advert he’d just seen said Ella was on Late Night with Julia Jones. The next one asked much the same but with a little more profanity. The next was in all caps as he asserted his right as label executive to be included in decisions like this.
Conrad turned his phone off after that, making a mental note to go through Elle’s texts and delete Marcus’s ravings before she could see them. He’d wait until after the show, though, unwilling to risk Elle seeing and putting a dent in her jubilant mood.
As Elle began to sing “The Sound of Silence,” he found himself captivated by her husky voice and sultry swaying hips. He chastised himself for getting distracted; he should be concentrating on the other people on the set, not enjoying the show.
Honestly, though, he was starting to resent Marcus’s intrusions because they diverted his attention away from doing his job, which was to keep Elle safe. He wasn’t responsible for which bookings she accepted or answering to Marcus.
Then again, Elle did a good job distracting him from doing his job too, so maybe Marcus wasn’t the problem. Maybe he was trying to protect Elle from too much. Marcus was her colleague, and it wasn’t Conrad’s job to referee her work conflicts.
The rehearsal progressed with only a few minor hitches, but Elle’s performances were flawless, even “My Funny Valentine,” which she’d been slightly wary of performing with so little rehearsal time.
Just as the set manager promised, the powerful lights had warmed up the cold building quite well. Things would only get warmer when the audience piled in.
Conrad kept his attention where it should be for the rest of the evening—on Elle and any possible threats around her.
The show went without a hitch, and as she stood with the other performers at the end of the show, he clapped along with the audience, even though he wasn’t on camera or wired for sound. This wasn’t polite applause. He was genuinely proud of her performance and was sure this was going to lead to bigger and better exposure for her.
When the director signaled that they were clear, everyone relaxed. Elle ran over to him as fast as her ridiculously high heels would allow. She threw her arms around his neck.
He couldn’t help but grin at her sheer exuberance, and he hugged her back.
“That was wonderful,” he told her.
“Thank you,” she said, squeezing him tightly before releasing him. She teetered on her heels for a second before raising one foot to remove her shoe. Conrad reached out and grabbed her arm before she could overbalance.
With both shoes off, she stood on the cold floor and closed her eyes, tilting her head back as she breathed deeply.
Conrad watched her, an indulgent smile on his lips.
When she finally raised her head and looked at him, she blushed slightly.
“You have no idea how painful those heels are,” she explained with a mischievous grin. “The cool floor feels marvelous!”
“I can imagine,” he said with feeling. And the poor woman had been in them for about four hours. “Let’s get you home, and you can change into your Hello Kitty jammies and relax.”
She groaned almost orgasmically at the thought, and Conrad shifted uncomfortably at the sound, tearing his eyes away from the line of her throat as her head fell back once again.
Since he’d sent their driver away rather than make him wait ten hours, Conrad turned his phone on to call a cab while Elle changed. He quickly saw that he had seventeen new messages from Marcus and God only who knew how many missed calls. Dammit!
He quickly turned Elle’s phone on, marveling once again that she didn’t protect it with a PIN code, and deleted the entire message thread from Marcus and dismissed the notification of missed calls. He turned her phone off again just in case Marcus wasn’t done having his tantrum, and then he phoned for a cab.
Elle emerged moments later, her handbag in one hand and her garment bag with her dress folded over the other arm. They made their way to the entrance together, where they watched out windows for their cab. He was pleased to notice that she transferred both items to one arm and had the small can of hairspray clasped in her free hand, ready for attack. She still seemed happy, however, smiling at the other guests as they left.
The cab’s arrival was announced by a text thirty seconds before it pulled up. As he opened the door to the parking lot, Conrad felt as taut as one of her piano wires, almost vibrating in his vigilance. Elle’s jubilant mood soured as soon as she stepped outside and was instantly reminded of what happened the last time she left a studio at night.
Luckily, no one accosted them tonight. As the cab drove off, she relaxed, but Conrad wouldn’t totally relax until they were locked inside their apartment.
It was late by the time they got to the apartment, or very early depending on your perspective, and they’d been out most of the day. While tired, they both needed time to wind down.
Conrad made tea while Elle changed into her pajamas, and then he went to his laptop to check his messages. Elle emerged a little later with her face scrubbed clean and her hair brushed out. She was wearing panda pajamas. He smiled when he saw her and shook his head.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. It’s just a very different look from the sexy sophisticate who was singing earlier.”
She grinned. “I pushed to be allowed to wear a panda onesie on stage, but the image consultants were dead against it.” She shrugged as she picked up the mug of tea he’d left for her. “Thank you.”
He smiled in reply and watched for a moment as she made her way to the sofa, tucking her legs under her as she turned the TV on and searched for some news.
She still hadn’t turned her phone on and was unaware of the fuss Marcus had made, but David was all too aware and had emailed Conrad an update.
David had played innocent, saying the booking was very last minute, which was why Sonic Music hadn’t been informed. And besides, as her agent, it was his job to book her gigs, not Sonic’s to babysit her. He thought they’d be pleased he had gotten their artist exposure on a mainstream channel and a respected show. He’d repeated those sentiments in an email that he had cc’d to Marcus’s boss. He told Conrad that he expected that to be the end of it. Marcus wasn’t about to risk getting reprimanded just because he felt left out—he was too professional for that.
He also said he’d tried calling Elle after the show, but her phone had been off. He wanted Conrad to tell her how proud he and Stacey were of her. They’d even allowed the boys to stay up late to see her perform, and they had loved her too.
He read David’s message out to Elle before clicking reply and thanking him for letting Elle have a day without pressure from the studio, making sure to let him know how much Elle had enjoyed herself.
Marcus’s unprofessional behavior was starting to concern Conrad, though. Was this just a case of a young man going too far in trying to prove himself, or was there more to it? Conrad was beginning to get a bad feeling.
He didn’t know much about Marcus, so it was time to rectify that. His name and employer should be enough to go on, so he emailed Browning’s and asked them to do a background check on the executive. Then he took his mug of tea and dropped down casually next to Elle on the sofa.
“Hey, has Marcus ever asked you out?” he asked over a sip of hot tea.
“Marcus?” she looked surprised and amused. “No, why?”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m like ninety percent sure he’s gay.”
“What makes you say that?” He certainly hadn’t gotten that feeling.
“I don’t know. Lots of little things, I guess. How he’s always perfectly groomed, how he’s so interested in my styling and fashion, how he seems to overcompensate for not being very butch. Plus, I’ve never heard him talk about a girlfriend, past or present.”
“So you don’t think he could be your stalker?” Conrad’s eyebrows lifted invitingly.
“Don’t be ridiculous! He’s the one who chased that bastard off the other night!”
That made it more difficult, but considering she had been blinded by the blood most of the time and hadn’t gotten a good look at her attacker . . . well, it was unlikely but possible.
Elle began to yawn soon after she finished her tea.
“You should turn in; you’ve had a long day,” Conrad suggested.
“Okay.” She nodded in agreement. “Thank you for today.”
“What did I do?” he asked, slightly bemused.
“It must have been really boring for you, standing around all day. So thank you for being nice about it.”
“It was a pleasure,” he assured her. “I didn’t expect it to be entertaining. I know nothing about music, but I actually enjoyed myself.”
“I’m glad.” She smiled sweetly at him before she bounded off to her bedroom.
Conrad shook his head as he took their mugs through to the kitchen. None of the people he’d guarded before had ever bothered to thank him or cared if he was bored. He wasn’t surprised that Elle cared, but he was surprised that she apparently had no idea how mesmerizing her singing was. Or how beautiful she was.
Conrad did a quick tour of the apartment, making one last check before taking himself off to the bathroom for a quick shower. He’d spent too many days and nights in the field when showering wasn’t possible to pass up the opportunity to fall into a soft bed, clean of the day’s grime.
Changing into clean boxers and a dark T-shirt, he quickly got ready for bed, setting out trousers and shoes on the chair for quick dressing, if necessary. He checked his weapons before he slid under the covers. He stared up at the ceiling and mulled over the day and the new information he’d gleaned about Elle.
Client, he reminded himself. She’s the client! His protectee. And that’s all there is to it, he thought firmly. It doesn’t matter at all that he was drawn to her kindness, her clever humor, her spectacular butt . . . He groaned.
I could bloody slay David for this. I was just fine as I was, he thought. Except he knew he hadn’t been fine, spending every night at any number of seedy bars, spoiling for a fight.
He thumped his pillow and turned onto his side. He certainly wasn’t spoiling for a fight right now . . . although, it appeared he was going to have a struggle with his libido.
He should have taken the time to relieve himself in the shower, he lamented. Maybe tomorrow night he’d take a nice long shower and let himself remember how beautiful she was when he’d walked in on her changing, that hint of breast he’d seen as she dove under the covers, that—Dammit!
Forcing his mind off his client, he turned restlessly onto his back, one arm behind his head and the other tapping on his chest as he stared into the dark. He clenched his fist. The more he came to know her, the more he wanted to get his hands on whoever was doing this to her.
Counting sheep had never worked for him, so he lulled himself to sleep by counting all the ways he could take the bastard apart without leaving a body behind as evidence.
He was somewhere in the fifties when he finally drifted off.