Future plans? Christ, boyo. What future plans? Maybe she didn’t think to mention it because as far as she’s concerned, whatever this thing is between you, it’s over when she leaves Sydney?
A gripping pressure wrapped Aslin’s chest and he bit back a curse. He had no grounds for being angry, but he was. Angry he’d let himself reach this state. It had to be because he felt adrift. Uncertain about where his life was heading. That was the only explanation he could think of.
The subject of Rowan’s future tournament didn’t come up for the rest of the trip around Sydney Harbour. Nor did filming. But the relaxed calm Aslin had experienced since making love to Rowan in his trailer had deserted him.
Back on set, he stood in the wings, watching Chris and Vin Diesel beat it out for the cameras, interjecting when necessary. Chris’s fighting technique had improved considerably, a fact the stunt coordinator commented on more than once with begrudging respect. But not even that could elevate Aslin’s dark state of mind. He’d gone and fallen for a woman who didn’t need him. For that, he had no solution.
When his cell phone started sounding out the “Funeral March”, he pulled it from his pocket and walked off set. “What’s up, Nick?”
His boss laughed. “Not having a good time, Uncle As?”
“Do you have a crazed stalker after you, Blackthorne? Or can I just hang up now?”
Nick laughed again. “Settle down, Aslin. I just wanted to let you know Lauren, Josh and I are flying out of the country tomorrow. I thought I’d show them the beauty of autumn in New York before Josh has to go back to school.”
The tight pressure that gripped Aslin’s chest back on the boat wrapped around it again. “Okay, boss. Give me five hours and I’ll be home.”
“Aslin.” Nick’s voice was steady. “You’re staying put.”
Aslin fixed his stare on a group of people—most likely extras, by the military combat uniforms they wore—walking toward the set. His throat grew thick. “Is this it then? Time for me to find another job?”
“No, As. Just time for you to enjoy being Aslin Rhodes, not Nick Blackthorne’s nameless bodyguard.” Nick paused. “Understand what I’m getting at?”
Aslin swallowed, tracking the approaching extras without really seeing them.
“Besides,” Nick went on, “I keep seeing you in the background of the images of Huntley popping up all over the media. Standing there next to your friend from the hospital car park.”
“Rowan,” Aslin murmured, his chest heavy.
“I know who she is, As. And I don’t want to take you away from her.”
Aslin let out a short grunt. “Don’t think that’s a situation to worry about. She’s flying out for Berlin on Sunday. Or maybe New Delhi.”
“And you’re not going with her?”
Go with her? If she asked him to go with her, would he?
Aslin’s pulse smashed hard in his neck. Bloody hell, he would.
“She hasn’t asked, boss.”
“And you’re going to wait for her to do so?”
Aslin ground his teeth at Nick’s pointed question.
“Do you remember when I decided Lauren was the only woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, Aslin?”
“I do.”
“Can you remember how fucked up I was before I found her again?”
“Are you saying I’m fucked up, Nick?”
Nick laughed. “I’m saying don’t let the chance of happiness slip away, Rhodes. Grab it, hold it. Hell, strangle it if you have to. But don’t let it slip away. Trust me on this, okay?”
Aslin closed his eyes, drew a long, slow breath and released it.
“Now get back to work,” Nick ordered, the grin in his voice unmistakable. “I’ve got to pack for New York. Oh, and we’ll be gone for a while, so there’s no need to hurry back from Sydney. Take Rowan somewhere perfect and private on that bike of yours. Got it?”
Nick disconnected the call before Aslin could respond.
Studying the group of extras, Aslin let out a breath. Nick was correct. Aslin had watched the singer come close to self-destructing, and it was only when he’d acknowledged Lauren Robbins was his heart and future that he’d found true peace. Aslin didn’t know if Rowan was his heart and his future, but he damn well wanted the chance to find out.
He shoved his phone into his pocket and turned to the film set behind him.
And then spun back around to face the extras.
One of them was wrong.
He narrowed his eyes, staring hard at the group. Picking out the extra that had caught his attention. Tufts of blazing red hair poked out from under a helmet that looked like it came from a costume shop, not a military supply store.