I used my time in the empty elevator to close my eyes and center myself. This was no different than any other performance I’d given. When the doors dinged open, I was ready, sashaying into the lobby, my features arranged in an expression of boredom.

Rohan and Samson stood out like two entrenched pillars of testosterone in a sea of frothy high-gleam. Their commanding presence demanded a more majestic surrounding, almost overwhelming the sleek, low lines of the modern furnishings. Rohan had his back to me, all leather jacket and spiked-up hair, the light glinting off his multiple silver rings as he chatted with Samson. I stepped back around the corner, peering out. From this angle, I could see them but they couldn’t see me.

Samson, live and in the flesh, was shorter than I expected. Rohan was about six-foot-two and he had a good three inches on Samson. In my stilettos, I’d be eye-level with the actor, which suited me fine.

He sported jeans, a beat-up brown leather jacket, and a T-shirt, all too calculatingly casual to be cheap. I bet myself a hundred bucks he’d smell of that perfect unisex blend of light citrus designed to tease the senses, versus Rohan’s more primitive musk and iron scent. I’d have to keep up the mantra of “potential demon” because looking between him and Rohan, Samson wasn’t the one registering as the greater threat.

I spotted Drio as promised, hanging with Samson’s inner circle. There was actually a largish group with him here in Prague, but Drio had targeted two specific dudes as being the closest to King. Hangers-on, not fellow actors. Too bad. The skinny jittery one in the baggy jeans could have found steady work as a toady hustler in Hard Knock Strife. I wondered if he was coked up. His buddy, busy texting, was a straight-up hearts and skulls wearing douchebag with his head buzzed in wavy lines. Sexual predator as higher aspiration.

Drio’s eyes widened a fraction but he didn’t glare at my deviation from the plan. Instead he looked at Rohan and Samson, his expression thoughtful.

I clicked across the floor, rating a disapproving frown from the buttoned-up desk clerk before he smoothed it into a bland courteous smile as I placed a hand on Rohan’s shoulder to let him know I’d arrived.

“Samson,” Rohan said, “this is–” He turned toward me for the first time, and I fought hard to keep my bored look in the face of his stunned expression.

“Lolita,” I supplied. My voice matched my vibe. Sulky and unimpressed.

Samson scanned my body like a barcode. “Samson King.” His attitude was all, “yeah, it’s me, be thrilled.” Seems I didn’t merit the famous charm. Yet.

Sorry to disappoint, asshole. I flicked my gaze away, checking out the lobby as if looking for someone more interesting.

Samson’s eyes narrowed.

Rohan’s hand curled around my hip. “Lolita,” he admonished. It may have come off as him getting me to be polite in the face of this amazing superstar but the growled warning had nothing to do with etiquette.

With a huff, I propped my chin on Rohan’s shoulder, half-twisted toward him, but meeting Samson’s eyes. Then I raised an eyebrow as if waiting for the star to impress me.

Samson tilted his head and smiled. The look that had landed him People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” cover. Ugh.

Moving away from Rohan, I raked a hand through my curls, the motion causing my shirt to fall open that much more. Samson obligingly looked.

I trailed my fingers down Rohan’s arm. Ignoring Samson. “You done?”

“Text me later,” Rohan told Samson. “We’ll figure out a set visit.”

“For sure.” Samson jerked his chin at me. “Bring her.”

I squeezed Rohan’s wrist, willing him to pick up on that cue and go into caveman mode.

“She’s busy.” He placed his hand on the small of my back, escorting me off.

Samson stepped sideways, blocking us. Speaking directly to me. “Want to come?”

I shrugged. “Been there. Done that.” He could infer the type of set–blockbuster, porn.

“Not like this. Come watch the big chase sequence.”

“Stand around and watch your stunt guys?”

Samson puffed up. “I do my own stunts.” Said with a touch of annoyance since this was well-documented fact.

I let a flicker of interest leach into my gaze, my turn now to run a slow total perusal of him, while I pursed my lips, like I was considering his offer. “That could be fun.” I stepped away from Rohan as I spoke.

Rohan tugged me back into place beside him, his hand hot on my arm. “We’ll see.”

“You do that,” Samson said, not breaking eye contact with Rohan.

Sweet. The challenge was on.

One of Samson’s friends called over to him and the pissing contest was broken. “Namaste, bitches.” A cheeky grin and one more appraising look for me, then he swaggered off.

“Demonstrating a stellar mastery of Eastern teachings, that one,” I said.

Rohan planted himself in front of me. “You’re pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

“Yup.”

“If you can’t follow directions, then you’re on the next flight home.”

I curled my fingers into his belt loops, so no one could tell how deep my nails gauged my palms. “Samson’s watching us,” I murmured, pouting. “Also, your directions sucked balls. Samson wasn’t going to give a shit about a pale imitation nobody of every chick he’d ever bagged.”

Rohan nuzzled my ear, his nip hard enough to make me wince. “You should have run it past me.”

I leaned in, my hands between our chests, calling my magic up enough so he could feel it thrumming through his shirt, though it wasn’t visible to anyone else. “You and Drio wouldn’t have listened. You were too busy casting a Whitesnake video.”

“Push me one more time.” Rohan ran a finger over my lips.

“You wouldn’t.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in until his mouth almost brushed mine.

I stuttered out a breath, stunned into a shocked freeze at his dirty tactics.

“Get a room,” Drio called out. I almost did a double take at his perfect American accent. He sounded like any generic TV or film actor. His group burst into raucous laughter, then Samson snapped his fingers, pointing off toward the lounge on the far side of the lobby. They all obediently trotted after him.

Keeping my relief under wraps, I switched off my power and stepped back. “My tactic worked. I was right.”

“You were lucky.”

“It wasn’t luck. I deconstructed that asswipe.” I rubbed a hand over my neck. “Trust has to go two ways here, Snowflake. I’m trying to work smart, not hard.”

Rohan jabbed a finger at me. “No more going off script. That’s a direct order. I won’t have you wreck everything Drio and I have done to date.”

“Minion. Got it.” I patted his cheek. “But do remember that I snagged his interest and keep up the pretense of me belonging to you. He wants what he can’t have.”

“The chase is half the attraction,” he replied.

“Then I’ll be sure to conduct a lively one.”

Before I could hear his retort, a woman called out to him in a voice that was pure Southern California drawl. “Ro? Is that you?”

He turned, his face lighting up as a supermodel launched herself into his arms. Not up to dealing with bitchy models wanting to play possession games over rock stars, I attempted to leave and give them their moment.

Rohan made no move to stop me but the woman smiled at me with genuine friendliness. “Hi.”

“Hello.” My greeting was a bit more wary. On closer inspection, she didn’t fit the supermodel bill. Sure, of East Indian heritage, she was luminous and gorgeous. But her large dark eyes and heart-shaped face were free of make-up, other than lip gloss. Pin-straight silky hair fell to her shoulders. The small rectangle-framed glasses she wore enhanced her beauty as did the loose trousers and cute embroidered coat on her slender frame, but they didn’t scream diva.

Cheeks red from the cold, she nudged Rohan with an easy familiarity. “Introduce us, dummy. Maya taught you better.” Old family friend, perhaps? Family friends were good.

Rohan slung an arm over her shoulder. Well, he couldn’t be rude to her if his mom might hear about it. “This is Dr. Lily Prasad. Lils, this is…” Rohan shifted from side-to-side, his voice flat. “Lolita.”

“Doctor?” I did up a button on my shirt.

“Almost doctor,” Lily corrected with a laugh. “I’m doing my doctoral dissertation right now. Finishing this summer.” She held up her crossed fingers.

Rohan looked at her fondly. “Lily is a geophysicist studying electrostatics.” He grinned at her, his even white teeth flashing. “Did I get it right?”

“Yeah. Only took you how many years? It’s a pleasure,” she said to me.

“Likewise.” A geophysicist? Beauty and brains. A smart old family friend then? Like the nerdy girl Rohan had grown up feeling sorry for? I looked at her again. Who was I kidding? This girl had been born a swan.

Still, I couldn’t believe how nice she was being to me, especially as it looked like my sole area of study was oral fixations. Now I really tried to get away but Rohan removed his arm from Lily to catch my wrist, keeping me trapped here in punishment.

I stood there as they got caught up, with Lily excited to hear that he was singing again, trying to free myself from his grip, but it was like trying to pry loose the safety bar on the roller coaster. No one was getting off this ride until it was finished.

Rohan asked Lily what she was doing here.

She pushed her glasses up her nose. “The hotel I wanted to stay at was overbooked.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Always with the literal, Lils. I meant in Prague.”

She blushed. “Shut up.”

Was my smile still on my face? Reasonable facsimile. Close enough.

“I’m attending an environmental physics conference,” she said.

“What?” Oy vey! It was bad enough meeting this super smart woman under these conditions. If I ran into her at the conference while looking for Dr. Gelman, she might wonder what someone like me could possibly be doing there.

Rohan and Lily turned identical looks of confusion on me.

“I mean, what are you doing there? Giving a speech?”

“I wish. No, I’m attending on behalf of my advisor.” Lily’s phone beeped. She pulled it out of her jacket. “I swear he’s the devil. I mention his name and there’s yet another email from him with more work for me.”

I cut a sideways glance at Rohan. “I know how you feel.”

He smiled sarcastically back at me.

Lily checked the email, rolling her eyes at its contents. “Okay, like the dude is staggeringly brilliant.” I smothered a smile at how valley girl she sounded. “But he’s also either incredibly passive-aggressive or seriously losing it because he keeps sending me messages in his native French, which he knows I don’t speak.” She stabbed at the phone. “I had to bookmark Google translate.”

“Don’t use that. It’s lingual soup,” I said.

“It totally is, but it’s easily accessible.”

I held out my free hand. “I can translate it for you.”

Rohan released me to cross his arms. “You speak French.” He made it sound like the only phrase I could possibly know was “Voulez-vous couchez avec moi.”

“I didn’t just hatch a pretty blank slate,” I snapped. “I was edumacated and everything.”

Lily shot me an odd look, her phone held up but not yet handed over. Whoops. Maybe groupies didn’t mouth off to their idols? I couldn’t think of any way to salvage the moment so I smiled and took her phone. Translating the email was a piece of cake, just some follow up about a panel he wanted her to attend.

I read the translation out to Lily, then handed her phone back.

“You are a superstar, Lolita,” she said, already typing her response.

I savored Rohan’s dumbfounded look. But it hurt too. “Twelve years of French Immersion, Snowflake,” I murmured. “Don’t stress yourself.”

I’m still outclassed here.

I made my excuses and left, beelining for the lounge and narrowly avoiding Samson and his gang leaving. Drio stood at the bar, paying.

Draping myself over the smooth white bar top, I helped myself to a drinks menu.

“A lemon radler.” I smiled at the scruffy bartender. Anyone about to serve me booze or poke me with a needle was deserving of smiles. Them being cute didn’t hurt either.

Winking, he acknowledged my order.

Drio scrunched up his face in disgust. “Way to ruin beer,” he said in his normal voice.

“Way to get one of my fruit servings.” I watched the bartender flick the cap off. “What’s with the accent?” I asked Drio.

“Just another good ’ol American boy,” he drawled. “Makes more sense I’d know Ro if I’m from the US.”

The bartender reached under the bar.

“Don’t worry about a glass.” I took the bottle, condensation dripping down its sides, savoring the first burst of fruity alcohol on my tongue.

“Who’s that? She looks familiar,” Drio said, nodding over at Lily and Rohan still talking in the lobby.

“Dr. Lily Prasad. Beautiful genius.”

His face lit up with an interested gleam. I braced myself, expecting some comment on her body or stating that he wanted an introduction. “Lightning girl.”

My beer hit the ground.