Series: The Protecting Love Series
Author: Michelle Donn
Release: August 20, 2021
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Suspense
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He's Internet's favorite playboy. She's the bodyguard
hired to find his stalker. Can their fake relationship save a company and catch
a stalker?
Harrison Woodhouse has a problem: what started as an
innocent secret admirer has escalated to threats of violence against any woman
seen on his arm. But he can't afford to go dark on social media in the middle
of his new product launch. Stalker or not, he has to go viral at the Consumer
Electronics Show in Las Vegas.
He needs professional help.
When people in the spotlight draw the kind of attention that
can be dangerous, they hire Chevy Adams. A former FBI agent, she’s now a
private security expert specializing in stalkers—and experience has taught her
to keep her own life private and offline. When Harrison’s stalker continues to
escalate, she reluctantly agrees to act as the internet-famous tech
billionaire's girlfriend so he can keep up appearances and she can ensure his
safety. Nothing she learned at Quantico prepared her for this.
Two people who live wildly different lives will have to fake
their relationship long enough to save a company and catch a dangerous stalker.
And when their chemistry proves to be very real, will Chevy be able to
reconcile her desire for anonymity with Harrison’s life in the very public fast
lane? Or will any chance at love slip away once the job is done?
My thoughts:
Las Vegas Risk is the fourth book in the Protecting Love series. This one is Harrison and Chevy's story. I thought this one worked very well as a stand alone. I think characters from other books in the series show up here, but I never felt like I was missing anything. Harrison is a social media darling who has an amazing successful app. When a date is push into oncoming traffic, he realizes that he needs security to get a handle on things before his Las Vegas launch of his new credit card. Enter Chevy.
I thought this was a fun fake dating/bodyguard romance. I loved that the roles were reversed with Harrison being a computer nerd and Chevy being a kick-ass former FBI agent who owns a private security firm. Their banter was great and I enjoyed their friendship that developed. Along with the romance, there is a lot of action and intrigue. One of the things that I liked was how social media was used for good in this book. Sometimes it is hard to remember it can be a good thing to have a presence on social media. I definitely recommend this one. I'm going to have to go back and check out the earlier books in the series.
Chapter 1
"Bid to you, Mr. Woodhouse. One hundred million. Going
once?"
The auctioneer's question echoed through the silent room.
Every bidder in the Chelsea gallery other than Harrison was sitting on their
paddles, unwilling to get caught up in the price war between tech billionaire
Harrison Woodhouse and an anonymous foreign phone bidder.
The room crackled with tension. The audience knew they were
watching art history in the making. Harrison’s plan was unfolding
perfectly.
He gave a slow nod to the auctioneer at the front to raise
his bid to $100 million.
His date, Tina, grabbed his arm. Her tapered blood-red nails
dug into his skin through his Brioni jacket. At least she had enough class
to suppress the squeal he could tell was trying to burst from her perfectly
glossed lips. He missed Svetlana’s decorum and her stoic Eastern European
manners.
The auctioneer turned to speak to his colleague manning the
phone. The woman handling the foreign bidder looked stressed. "We have one
hundred and two million and on the phone. One hundred and five to you,
sir?"
Harrison smiled; he could feel it. The sixth sense that he
relied on in the boardroom told him this was it. The final bid. He removed his
arm from Tina's stranglehold and straightened his cuffs before he casually
raised his paddle. He was spending more money on one painting than most people
dreamed of making in a lifetime.
The woman on the phone with the foreign bidder shook her
head and stepped into the shadows.
"The phone bidder is out. I have one hundred and five
million in the room. Going once? Going Twice?" The auctioneer paused for
dramatic effect. "Three times? SOLD."
This time Tina didn’t suppress her squeal. Harrison stood,
and the room erupted in polite high society art aficionado applause. Tina
leaped up and pressed her waif-like body against him, jumping up and down in
excitement—or trying to. The towering heels she wore left her gripping his arm
to keep from falling over.
Phase one accomplished.
The auctioneer leaned close to the mic so his words would
cut through the din. "Andy Warhol's Orange Charge Card is sold to Mr.
Woodhouse, paddle number three twenty-four. Congratulations, sir."
Harrison examined his new acquisition before the auction
staff removed it from the stage. It was a depiction of a Diners' Club credit
card in Warhol's signature cartoonish style. He was sure Warhol had intended
the orange and black silkscreen painting to be a bold statement about
capitalism or excess. The artist might have found the situation amusing had he
been alive—a billionaire buying his panting of a credit card for millions in
cash as a PR stunt. The irony would surely have entertained the counterculture
icon.
Harrison urged Tina back down into her chair. The rest of
the auction would wrap up quickly. Nothing else on the block tonight would come
close to the record price he paid for the Warhol. Tina was giddy, squirming in
her seat. The young ones were always impressed by the money. And Tina decidedly
was too young. He'd be forty in a few months. Hell, he had socks older than the
twiggy aspiring model next to him.
Part of him missed Svetlana. She'd been a consummate
professional. But after the incident in Palm Beach, the sophisticated blond
wasn't returning his calls. Cynically, he reminded himself she had cashed his
check. Everyone had a price.
Gavin, his PR mastermind, had called a few of the city's
modeling agencies and found Tina on short notice. It wouldn't do to have the
dashing Harrison Woodhouse seen out and about without a date. He was selling a
lifestyle. Indigo was more than an app that let consumers buy stuff via cell
phone.
A short time later, the last item was gaveled sold, and the
crowd began to file out of the auction room and into the main gallery.
Cocktails and chit-chat were on the menu for most guests, but for Harrison,
checkout would be the highlight of the night.
A waiter met them with champagne on the threshold of the
bright white industrially chic space. He took two glasses, passed one to Tina,
and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. One of his PR team fought against the
crowd to meet them. The guy had a DSLR camera ready to snap a few
pictures.
"This was amazing," Tina gushed, sipping the wine
and giving the camera her best picture-perfect smile. She fished in her
designer handbag for her cell phone. Successful, she turned it toward them.
"Selfie?"
"Sure. Why not?" Harrison pasted on one of his
signature sexy smirks for her fans.
In a moment, Tina had a perfect shot of them edited,
filtered, and hashtagged, ready to be posted to her social media. He glanced at
her follower count on Instagram. It was nothing to sneeze at. He might need to
rethink his dislike of young American models for 'Public Relations Dates.' This
girl had #skills.
He glanced over his shoulder, sure that his PR team was
still following them as they worked toward the checkout station. En route to
his destination, he stopped to shake hands and receive congratulations on his
new purchase. He and Tina joined the mayor and a Tony award-winning producer in
a photo for the New York Post.
Tonight, Gavin had sent him the full crew: a still
photographer, a cameraman, and a sound operator. After spending a hundred million
on a PR stunt, you don't cheap out on the coverage.
Ahead he saw Antonia, the owner of A Gallery, ready to
assist him at a private checkout table. Everyone who was anyone in art in New
York dealt with Antonia at some point. And when he and Gavin cooked up this
stunt, he knew she'd be the perfect person to bring in.
As always, she wore head-to-toe black, the only color a
slash of blood-red lipstick on her thin lips. Her ebony knife-edged pageboy was
so perfect that Harrison often wondered if it might be a wig.
"Harrison, darling. Congratulations. The Warhol, I was
surprised. I thought for sure you'd buy the small Hockney." Antonia
gripped his shoulder and floated a kiss above his cheek as she spoke.
"You know I always buy American when I can." Though
the Hockney sketch had been a nice piece, the Warhol's subject matter and the
chance to set a record had made it the ideal choice. "Are we all set
up?"
"I think so. One of your staff was here earlier and
installed the new wireless terminal and explained all the merchant advantages
of Indigo. What I'm saving on processing fees compared to a standard credit
card will pay for tonight's party and then some. I should have ordered the
Beluga Caviar." She laughed at her own joke.
It looked like Antonia would be a new app customer. He'd
make sure the PR team tagged A Gallery in the videos and posts from
tonight.
"Gentlemen, are you ready?" Harrison asked his PR
crew. After a few adjustments to the lighting setup on the video camera, he got
a thumbs up.
He pulled Tina close and leaned in to give Antonia yet
another air kiss and exchange greetings. This time it was all for the cameras.
"Congratulations on your winning bid, Mr. Woodhouse.
Orange Charge Card has now set a price record for a Warhol. How will you be paying?"
Behind Antonia, a huge flat-screen TV showed the painting and the logo for the
Indigo App.
Without spilling a drop of champagne or letting go of Tina's
delicate waist, Harrison pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket. He
tapped the screen and brought up the Indigo app. His baby. The app he created
while finishing his master's degree at MIT. It took years of work, rounds of
venture capital, and a bit of luck with social media marketing, but Indigo was
now the fastest-growing payment app globally. And he was just getting started.
"I’m paying with Indigo." He held up his phone to
a sensor on the side of Antonia's computer. The amount due was staggering. He
angled his phone, ensuring the PR crew could get a few good shots of the total.
It had been the right call to have the screen formatting on the app updated to
fit the eleven-digit amount. No other app could handle this size transaction.
And Indigo would do it flawlessly and securely.
The muckraker from Page Six at the Post was snapping photos
now too. Harrison held his pose and his smile. Tina preened while more shutters
clicked.
"Thank you, Harrison. The A Gallery is happy to accept
Indigo for payment." Antonia purred as the funds flew through cyberspace.
Her commission would be enough to satisfy anyone.
The chime from the Indigo app on his cell let the room know
the sale was complete. He was the proud owner of a $105 million painting of a
credit card. A good thing his Indigo account didn’t have a limit. The small
crowd that had gathered to watch the theatrics clapped. He shuffled his phone
to his other hand and turned it to flash the Indigo logo at the camera crew.
Then he dipped Tina back and locked their lips together. The photo needed to be
great. He wanted something his followers would like, love, and share across the
internet.
Photo op over, he pulled back from the lackluster kiss. His
work here was done. Tina looked at him with stars in her eyes. She was
absolutely too young for this game. That embrace had been acting, stage
dressing, not an invitation to join him back at his place for a nightcap. He
stepped away from her. A foot of space might help cool her down.
At least Svetlana understood that he needed a woman on his
arm to sell an image. Not because he wanted to get laid. Women made eighty-five
percent of the consumer spending decisions in the United States. He needed them
buying with Indigo.
"I think it's time to head out." He headed toward
the coat check.
"Awesome. I know the best place. There's this ultra-hip
speakeasy just a few blocks away. The craft cocktails are to die for." She
clung to his arm and tried to thread their fingers together.
"I was thinking more like a slice of pizza and a few
beers before heading home." Nothing sent a high-fashion model running for
the hills like carbs and grease.
"Really? But that's so not you." Tina blinked up
at him, disbelief written across her flawless face.
Honestly, it was him. The world just had no idea. He'd
worked to craft his perfect playboy persona for years. Since the first time
he'd logged on to Instagram, he'd been cultivating an image, the son of a
wealthy family that played hard and went to all the fashionable places. It was
all a strategy that Gavin had carefully crafted to push Indigo’s brand to
younger consumers. And it worked.
Harrison tipped the coat check and helped Tina slip on her
scarlet red jacket before he shrugged on his topcoat. The sidewalk in front of
the gallery was a mob scene. More people were waiting for the valet to bring
around their cars than were inside sipping wine and talking about contemporary
art.
He shouldered his way to the valet stand, dragging Tina
along in his wake.
"Hey, man, hold on to your ticket. We're short-staffed
tonight. It's going to be a while," the harried valet parker said while
wiping sweat off his forehead. Before Harrison had a chance to slip him a
couple hundred bucks to expedite the process, the parker dashed off, a set of
keys clutched in his hand.
"Looks like we're waiting," he told Tina, his arms
over his chest to keep her from trying to hold hands again.
"Ah, yeah. It's not a—" Her sentence turned into a
startled shout.
Before he could grab her, she fell forward into the street.
She was on her hands and knees, her red jacket lit up by the headlights of an
oncoming car. He stepped off the curb and snatched a handful of her coat.
Pulling her up with all his strength, he stumbled back, dragging her with him.
They fell tangled together into the crowd on the sidewalk. Safe.
As the car zipped past, a man somewhere behind them shouted,
"Someone grab that guy. He pushed her."
A dull pain radiated from his elbow where it had struck the
pavement, but it was nothing. He needed to be sure Tina was alright.
He laid her back on the sidewalk. "You okay?"
Her breathing was shallow, and she was trembling slightly.
"I think so."
A camera flashed, lighting up Tina's pale face. Fucking
paparazzi and cell phone cameras. He helped her sit up. Before anyone could
take more pictures, he smoothed her skirt over the scrapes on her knees.
She rested her head on his chest, and he rubbed a soothing
hand up and down her arm. Thankfully, her breathing was back to normal. He
turned over her hands. Her palms weren't too bad, only a little road rash.
If he'd been a second or two slower, there would be more to
cry about than skinned knees. She could have been seriously hurt.
Against his chest, she mumbled something about stupid
stilettos and being too clumsy to be a runway model. It sounded like she'd be
fine.
"Sir, I'll take your ticket and bring your car so that
you can get her home." The valet leaned down, concerned.
Harrison passed over his ticket, more than ready for the
evening to be over. He'd bet a million bucks that Tina wanted to go home too.
In The Series:
