Ex-con Alpha (Alpha Meets Omega 3)

CHAPTER ELEVENTravis

“Vivian Demonte,” she said, extending her hand toward his.

Travis took it and shook it lightly, feeling like he was handling a delicate object. She looked nothing like she did on the big screen. The woman in movies was all sex and sass, with long dark lashes and fresh red lipstick. She was tall and curvy, with dark hair that spilled over her naked shoulders during love scenes.

The woman he was looking at today had short, spikey brown hair and the body of a fourteen-year-old boy. In fact, she looked a bit like one with her diminutive stature lost in an oversized gray hoodie. At least she wouldn’t stand out in a crowd like he’d been afraid she might.

“Travis Porter,” he told her before being cut off by Carl.

“Carl Metcalf,” he said, extending his hand. “I spoke to you on the phone.”

“Yes, of course, but you aren’t a part of my bodyguard team, are you? That is what Mr. Porter is here for, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Great. Then you can be on your way and I’ll call you if there’s a problem. Otherwise, my guys will get Mr. Porter up to speed; he can handle it from here on out,” she said dismissively.

Travis wanted to laugh. As much as he liked Carl. Being sent away like a sidekick by some fancy Hollywood type wasn’t going to sit well with him. He muttered a quick goodbye and fucked off as requested, though.

“So, Mr. Porter. Do you have a lot of experience as a bodyguard?”

“Travis will be fine, and no, not formally, but I do know how to protect someone who needs it.”

“Okay, Travis,” she replied, looking him up and down in a way that made him feel more uncomfortable than anything. “Let’s sit down and have some breakfast. We’ll talk.”

Travis followed her to a table in the hotel restaurant. Three large men in suits trailed them, close enough to act, if necessary, but far enough away that they weren’t overly intrusive. They seated themselves at a nearby table. Travis ordered a large breakfast and then felt awkward when she ordered only half a grapefruit and dry wheat toast.

“Can you substitute the items on his breakfast with vegan options?” she told the waiter.

The thought of eating vegan food disgusted Travis. He was a wolf, not a Brahma bull grazing in the pasture. Still, he didn’t object. This was good money. He could use it.

“I understand you aren’t vegan, but if you are eating on my tab, you’ll need to follow my rules. I won’t pay for animal flesh.”

“Understood,” he told her, already determining that he’d be paying for his own meals and eating whatever he damn well pleased.

They went over a few more of her odd requirements while he politely ate the breakfast he was brought. It wasn’t as horrible as he’d anticipated, but it certainly didn’t have the full flavor of meat. She would be filming during the week and flying home on weekends. He’d have a room for the duration of his employment but wasn’t required to stay there when she was gone. It was a pretty sweet deal.

“Alright, ready to get started, then?”

“Sure.”

“Hey, Bob,” she called toward one of the men sitting nearby. He stood and walked over but didn’t sit.

“Get Travis here checked into his room and go over whatever your rules are with him. I’m going back upstairs to meditate and attend to some personal things. I’ll have lunch in my room, so I’ve no need for anyone before my meeting on set this afternoon.”

“Got it, Vivianne.”

Travis noted how Bob watched until she was out of sight, but whether it was longing or reciprocated affection, he couldn’t tell. It was obvious that there was something more than just a boss-and-client relationship there, though. Even as a professional, Travis knew that was a bad recipe, but so was not minding your own business. If they were fucking, she was fucking with him to maintain loyalty, or was oblivious to his desires was none of Travis’s concern.

“Alright, let’s get you rolling then,” Bob said finally. “Come on and I’ll introduce you to them.”

They walked toward the table of men, disrupting their conversation. Travis expected there to be some friction with him coming into their fold as an outsider, but they were all friendly and made nothing of it. The others were called Reaper and Trout, one from an old army nickname and the other because he was a fly fishing enthusiast.

“Just stay close, but out of her way, and you’ll do fine,” Bob told him.

“I don’t get it. Why does she need a local just to stand around and not bother her? She’s already got three of you guys doing that. Is she really in that much danger?”

“She’s not in any danger, really. Sure, there are a few overzealous fans, but not that many crazies we’ve come across. It’s mostly just for appearances and to keep the paparazzi off of her. She always hires a local just for the purpose of showing us around during our downtime.”