two security guys standing by the door, I nodded at them as we passed. Their steps could be heard on the concrete floor, following closely behind. I never thought having a security team was important, until I heard horror stories from other singers. Luckily, I hadn’t had anyone break into my house to steal my underwear like my nemesis, Lydia Turner. The attention she got after that incident, inflated her already enormous head. I would’ve been scared shitless to know some pervert was in my house. Not her; it was just another way to get free PR.
“Where’s Scott? He usually comes inside to get me,” I mentioned.
Scott Wilson worked security for my father, until he’d been sent to protect me. I didn’t mind having a bodyguard, but I had boundaries. Thankfully, Scott and I had come to a shaky agreement; he wouldn’t hover, unless I wanted him to. He loved to test my patience though.
“He’s waiting out by the car. When I came in through the back, I told him I’d bring you out.”
“Wow. Hopefully, he’s taking what I said to heart.”
Nick shrugged. “Possibly. You ripped him pretty hard the other night. The guy’s just trying to do his job.”
I sighed. “I know, and I hate how I took my anger out on him and not my dad. Scott’s a good guy. I just wish the whole country didn’t think I got my career because of my dad and his money.”
“They don’t. Did you not hear the thousands of fans cheering for you tonight? You have an amazing voice. Money can’t buy what comes naturally. Besides, you know why your father’s so protective.”
I leaned into his shoulder, as memories of my mother came flooding back. It had only been two years since we’d lost her to cancer. The first song I ever wrote was about my parents’ love for each other; it was what skyrocketed my career. It didn’t help I looked exactly like her. My father couldn’t look at me without the pain showing on his face.
“I know,” I whispered, blinking back the tears.
Once we were out the back door, there were more security guards who flanked us as we walked toward the car. Up ahead, Scott straightened his suit jacket and opened the car door. He was in his early forties, with a closely shaved head and an athletic build. In New York, he didn’t have to worry about the paparazzi taking his picture. Now, he was all over the tabloids as one of the sexiest bodyguards alive.
“You did well tonight, Hadley,” he said.
“Thanks, Scott. I really appreciate that. But what I want to know is, how are you going to chase down the bad guys in a suit?” I winked and it made him smile. The last thing I wanted was tension between us when he was obviously going to be working for me long term.
“You’d be surprised what all I can do. But hopefully, we won’t have to find out. Get in.”
I slid into the car and Nick scooted in next, putting his arm around me as soon as he settled into the seat. Once Scott got in the front, we headed out for the thirty minute drive back to my home in Santa Monica.
“I take it you’re not mad at me anymore?” I asked Scott.
He chuckled. “It’s hard to stay mad at you, kid. You just need to understand, I have a job to do.”
“I know,” I said with a nod. “I’m sorry for being a bitch.”
His gaze met mine in the mirror. “You’re forgiven.” All too soon we arrived at the house and he parked the car. “You two have a good night. If you need me, you know where I’ll be.”
I nodded. “See you in the morning.” Nick opened the car door and helped me out.
Scott got out of the car and headed to his apartment over my garage. “Be ready by seven, Hadley. We don’t want to miss our flight.”
I saluted him. “Yes, sir.”
Grinning, he shook his head and disappeared into the garage.
Nick slid his arm over my shoulders and squeezed. “Babe, you ready?”
“Yeah, let me get my keys.” We started for the door while I dug in my purse, my heart thundering out of control. Was I ready to hear what he had to say? “So . . . what did you want to talk about?” I asked, voice shaking.
Chuckling, he stopped mid-step. “Nervous much? Surely you must already know.” His expression turned serious, his fingers made their way to my