Stryker played a dramatic burst of music to great effect.
“Legal team, what’s my recourse?” Riley asked.
Chelsea and Penny stepped forward.
“Easy,” Penny said. “We sue for emotional distress caused by thermal negligence.”
“Slam-dunk case,” Chelsea chimed in. “Temperature trauma is very real. You might miss a few days of shooting, ergo losing money which means you have no choice but to recover lost wages.”
“No one has to live like that,” Penny added. “Know your worth, queen.”
Riley was really having a hard time keeping it together now. Reminding herself that she was a professional actress, she managed to stay in character.
“Darling, Riley,” Rita said. “Would you mind stepping over here with me for a moment?”
“Hold on,” Briggs said, stepping forward.
Damn, he looked like a million bucks in that tailored suit. So, so sexy. But then again, her man looked sexy no matter whathe wore. And there was something about him working hard and doing things that required those muscles that really got Riley going.
But the suit was nice.
“And who are you?” Rita asked, clearly incensed.
“I’m her boyfriend. And bodyguard.”
“The painter?”
“He’s now the head of my security.” Riley ended the statement with an emphatic nod. “Ooh, and my manager.”
“You have a manager now?” Rita asked.
“You can talk about this all later,” Briggs said. “Right now, I need to make sure you don’t have any weapons on your person.”
“You’ve got to be joking! This is my damn house!”
All around them, the guests were trying to go about their mingling, pretending as if they weren’t glued to the grand drama that was unfolding.
“Sorry. No one gets to a star of this caliber without being scanned for weapons. She’s Riley Hartwell, you know,” Briggs said.
“Yes, I’m well aware of who she is!” Rita was smoldering. “And I won’t allow you to frisk me! You can just leave if it’s that important to you.”
“Rita, get used to it. It’s my new protocol,” Riley said.
Rita’s cheeks were as red as glowing embers as she raised her arms and let Briggs use the security wand he’d had tucked inside his suit jacket. He didn’t touch her with it, and stayed far away from anything that would be considered intrusive.
“The detector didn’t beep. She’s clean.”
Of course it didn’t beep, Riley thought. It was a movie prop Stryker had borrowed from a set.
“Satisfied? In the house, please.”
Riley walked toward it with everyone following.
“Alone!” Rita demanded.
“Of course not. I need my manager. Of course I need my attorneys. And my personal assistant. I might need my friends, too.”
Everyone kept walking.