Hitman's Hookup: A Bad Boy Romance (42 page)

"Whatever, Harrison, I get dressed in the morning, I think I can reserve my own fucking hotel room."

I thought I heard him a sigh a little. That was new. He'd never done that before, at least not with me in earshot.

"Mr. Wilder, the reason you have to book in person is that they won't accept-" His voice dissolved into static. I shook the phone stupidly, as if that would do anything. "-text you the address, okay?"

I rubbed the outside of my ear and switched the phone closer to the window, hoping for better reception. "Harrison? Can you hear me? Harr-" the phone beeped twice.

The call was over.

"What was that about?" Olivia asked, looking concerned.

I thought about her reaction if she knew that our location had been compromised. The whole reason I was bringing her out here was so she felt safe.
Fucking media.
I knew I'd have to lie to her. Okay, not lie - obfuscate the truth so she'd go along with things.

"Change of venue. My regular place had a plumbing problem and no available rooms." I smiled at her, and I was beyond fucking pleased to see that the worry on her face dissolved when she looked at me.

I liked knowing that I could make her feel better just by being there.

I glanced down at my phone. A text message from Harrison came through; it contained only the address for the new hotel. I passed the phone up to the driver, who glanced at it quickly.

"Yes, signor," he replied.

I leaned back in my seat, trying to control my breathing. This was all going to work out.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

OLIVIA

I knew Wilder was lying to me about something. 

The adorable thing was that he thought he was getting away with it. Whatever, I could always bust him on it later. I didn't have the energy after the last few days to care much. As long as wherever we were going was quiet and didn't have mobs of people trying to swarm me and my co-star, I would be fine.

The drive went along quietly. I must have dozed off for at least half an hour. When I woke up, my face was on Wilder’s shoulder. I sat up quickly, wiping the slight bit of drool off my mouth. 

Wilder was staring at me, trying not to laugh. "You going to run all of my shirts today with your bodily fluids, Liv?"

"Fuck off, Wilder. You should be used to bodily fluids on you from what I've read in the press." The sentence came out much harsher than I intended.

I was always a little grumpy when I woke up. I tried to read his face. There was a moment of cloudiness that crossed his perfect features, but when it dissolved, he almost looked happy.

"Did I mention how nice it is to not have someone blowing sunshine up my ass all hours of the day and night?"

I gave him a challenging look. "You really need to get out more."

I looked out the window and saw that we were winding our way closer to a tiny village on top of a hill. This looked like something straight out of a movie. I had a moment of meta-irony when I realized that literally, this
would
be in a movie; a movie that I had a starring role in. My life was moving so quickly even
I
was having a difficult time keeping track and staying on course with the changes.

"We are almost there," the driver said.

"This seriously looks like something out of a movie," I said under my breath. We passed the outside of the village and continued onwards into farmland. Olive trees and grape vines were spread like lace netting across the countryside.

Wilder’s voice came from a few inches over my shoulder and I jumped, not realizing he'd been that close to me.

"That's the idea, Liv."

I felt a rush of adrenaline with him being that close to me. A few moments later we pulled into the front semi-circular driveway of a slightly crumbling Tuscan villa. The driver got out of the car and opened my door.

I stepped out into the Italian sunshine, inhaling a lungful of countryside air. It was crisper, cleaner, and somehow lighter than any air I'd breathed in my entire life. I felt my body relax for the first time in long, long while.

Wilder tipped the driver and nodded at me. "You ready?" he asked.

"Born ready," I replied, stepping up to the door and twisting the brass handle. It wobbled in my hand. I had to grab it with both hands, afraid that it was going to fall off of the rickety wooden door. I pulled and thankfully everything stayed together as I stepped inside.

The lobby was dimly lit; a huge shock from the intensely sunny day that had greeted us outside. I stopped abruptly as green fireworks shot across my vision. I had to blink to adjust my sight. Wilder plowed into me, nearly knocking me to the ground.

"Jesus Christ!" he yelled in surprise as he swooped down to catch my falling body. His strong arm grabbed my waist and held me upright, pulling me up to his abdomen. I felt my heart beating faster, feeling his muscles against my torso. I leaned forward, closer to him, wanting desperately to taste his lips.

A wheezy English accent interrupted us. "Bless you! Oh the life of newlyweds. Richard! Get in here!"

Wilder and I pulled away from each other so fast it was like someone set off an explosion between our bodies. I turned around, my vision finally adjusted to the dimness of the room, to see a short, stout woman with a bun of white hair on her head.

She had pale skin and sunken cheeks with dark dabs of blush across them. She looked like someone's wizened fairy godmother. "Hello, loves, come closer, come closer. I’m Gina!”

We walked over to the slightly tilted check-in counter. Rusty, gummy cans of paint were piled on the edge. A rusted ladder covered in cobwebs was leaning up against the back wall.

"Renovating?" Wilder asked in a voice dripping with apprehension.

The woman looked up from the dusty, yellowing-paper bookings with a confused look. "Sorry, dear?"

Wilder cleared his throat. "I asked if you were renovating."

She turned around and looked at the mess behind her. "Oh, yes. For about thirteen years now. Richard isn't quite as nimble as he used to be. For that part, neither am I!" She cackled shrilly at her own joke.

Wilder and I exchanged glances, but I managed to join along in what I hoped would pass for a cheery agreement and not a
What in the hell is going on?
voice.

"So, we have you booked for the honeymoon suite for tonight and tomorrow night, is that correct?"

I saw Wilder glance over at me. "Uh, you don't have two rooms?" I asked her.

She looked up and shrieked some more with laughter.

"Trying to run away already, are you? Oh, dearie." She gave Wilder a wink. "You found yourself a woman with a good sense of humor. So important in life, so important." She curled her fat, wrinkled, soft fingers around a pencil and painstakingly wrote down our names. "So that is
James Brando
and
Vivian Hepburn
then.” She gave a conspiratorial wink.

She looked wistfully at both of us. "It's just so rare that we get any customers these days." A look of disgust turned up her nose. "You see all this coupling and no commitment. But when your assistant called earlier and said that his boss needed a room, and I told them that we only took married couples or singles; he said it was serendipitous as you had just eloped! Oh, how romantic.”

She looked at me appraisingly. “You know, dearie, you look skinnier in the papers.” She glanced at my hand. “Where’s your ring? Didn’t want thieves to take it? Smart, smart. Goodness, what a rock you bought this one!”

Realization was dawning over me. She thought I was Hailey. And that Wilder and I had eloped.

Oh, God.

I felt my smile becoming more and more fixed. Before I could collect myself, I felt Wilder's arm around my waist.

"We look forward to having an even more romantic weekend, I assure you." He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially to the innkeeper. "I hope these walls are relatively sound-proof." Then he winked.

She burst into peals of laughter, real blush peeking out from underneath the heavily applied makeup.

"Oh, dear. Well, I certainly wouldn't kick you out of bed for eating crackers, I'll tell you that." She reached below the counter and pulled out a dog-eared glossy magazine. On the cover was Hailey, her hand adorned in the rock Wilder had purchased for her. Italian words were sprinkled around her face. “Richard hates that I read this rags, but it’s my only vice.” She looked at both of us, her face sinking into panic. “But please don’t worry, your secret stay and elopement is safe with me, I promise.”

Wilder cleared his throat. “So you don’t read the Internet, then?”

I realized what he was asking. This woman was about a week behind in celebrity gossip at any given moment if her only source were once-weekly tabloids.

I wondered vaguely when the next edition would show up here, and if she’d know who I was.

Oh, God
.

Wilder squeezed the side of my waist and shivers went down my body. I tried to stop them, but I knew that he felt them. He squeezed again.

"Well, just tell us the way to our room and I doubt we'll be bothering you much."

"We'll have dinner at seven, so get some rest, freshen up, and come back down here. Your room should be nice and ready for you. We even had someone come in earlier today to do the cleaning. I'm making spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. Authentic
italiano
," she said in the worst approximation of an Italian accent I had ever heard in my entire life. "Your room is upstairs, last door on the right. Pardon some of the construction mess, if you please." She pushed a brass skeleton key over to Wilder.

Wilder beamed at her. "We'll let you know if we need anything. But you know what they say. Don't come a-knockin'."

She shrieked again and winked at him. “You are a naughty, naughty boy."

Wilder had to steer me toward the switchback staircase. I pulled his arm off me and spun around, out of earshot of Gina.

"You planned this, didn't you? Or you at least knew. When Harrison called earlier. I
knew
you were lying about something.”

“Uh, knew
what
? Knew that my assistant had booked us into the English-run Italian version of the Bates fucking Motel?” The wall sconce behind him flickered and the bulb went out as if on cue. "I swear to fuck, Liv – the only thing I was hiding from you was that the press is already swarming the shoot location in Tuscany.”

"Lost, dearies?" Gina called to us from reception.

"Oh, no, just getting in a little kissing before we make it upstairs. I can hardly control this one," Wilder said grandly, turning to me with an eye roll. "Go. Upstairs," he hissed, "Before she makes us fuck each other in front of her.” He paused and then grinned. “Not that I’m opposed to public fucking.”

I turned my back on him and trod heavily up the tiny staircase, little waterfalls of dust and flaky wall plaster coming down under my heavy, irritated footsteps. I coughed as we made our way up to the dusty hallway. Half of the bedrooms didn't even have doors.

There was a single, narrow window built into the thick stone wall at the end of the hallway. A thin rectangle of light fell through onto the dusty, rickety floor. I squinted and was fairly certain I could see through the floor slats into one of the downstairs rooms. I felt my stomach turn over but I kept walking until we made it to the last door on the right.

I reached behind me to get the key. Wilder put his hand on top of mine, and I felt the warm metal of the key on my skin. He didn't pull away, instead looking me directly in the eyes.

"Just promise me, Liv," he said with a serious look on his face.

"What?" I asked him, all my irritation evaporating as he touched me.

"That if we find Richard's decaying, desiccated corpse embedded into the mattress, that we will leave and just spend the night sleeping in the vineyard.”

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. "This is absurd. I don't even know what my life is right now," I said through chuckles.

"Just sit back and enjoy the adventure, Liv," he said to me, taking his hand away and letting me unlock the door.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

WILDER

Thankfully, Old Man Richard, wherever he was, was not embedded into the duvet.

Actually, the room was really nice. It wasn't "penthouse at the Four Seasons" nice, but compared to the rest of the place, it was luxurious. I was pretty fucking certain another fifty pounds between the two of us and the hallway floors would have crumbled under our feet. But the flooring in here looked like it had been completely refinished.

The golden boards gleaming in the light from the window reminded me of Olivia's golden hair. I set down my suitcase and wandered over to the dresser. Olivia was in the bathroom washing her face.

"No blood running out of the tap?" I called to her.

"We're good in here," she replied.

I opened the rough-hewn drawers and saw with satisfaction that Harrison had followed my instructions. I had no idea how he had done it, but it was done. I shut the drawer as quietly as I could and sat on the queen-sized bed. I bent down to sniff the crisp white linen duvet. It smelled like flowers.

Good.
I was a tough motherfucker most of the time, but when it came down to it, all I wanted in this life were clean sheets when I went to a hotel. I guessed that whoever Harrison had paid to place clothes in the dressers had also freshened up the space a bit.

"Liv, you want to change?"

She walked out of the bathroom, dabbing her face with a bright white washcloth. She had pulled her hair back into a high ponytail.

"Change? I don't even have clothes, Wilder," she replied.

“You sure about that?” I asked her with a grin.

She looked confused. “Yes, I am completely sure about that. We brought absolutely
zero
suitcases.”

I shrugged and tilted my head toward the dresser. I loved surprising people.

She looked at me skeptically and opened the drawer. Her jaw dropped. "How? What? When?" she spluttered.