Bright pink lips made a moue as her glittery lashes fluttered at him. “That really bites.” She tossed hair streaked with purple highlights. Harajuku girls had nothing on this Hello Kitty lover. Too bad Brennen wasn’t with him. “You’re better looking than he is anyway. I’m A.J. and totally want to buy you a drink.”
He listened to her with half an ear as Zoe’s answer drifted over to him.
“Have you actually seen Ian Romanov? Who would date him for strictly business reasons?” Zoe asked with a crooked smile. That remark had some in the crowd laughing, but a few weren’t entirely convinced.
“So maybe you’re mixing business with pleasure. It’s rather convenient he’s the male lead and you had a major say in casting.”
“Being photographed with him hardly makes us a couple. I was also photographed with the McGowan brothers and no one’s asking me if I’m dating either of them.”
“Maybe you haven’t gotten around to it.” Another journalist piped up. “We’ll be sure to check out casting for any sequels that might be made.”
Christian clenched his fists.
Ed Willis was the worst sort of journalist. Actually, using the term journalist to describe Willis stretched the definition to its breaking point. The fox-faced man made Christian’s skin crawl.
“Hel-lo, I’m trying to pick you up.” A.J.’s br**sts brushed against his arm.
He stepped back to avoid another “accidental” bump. A.J. was very attractive. He would go as far as saying she was a head turner. Normally, this kind of attention would be very much welcomed and completely thanked in the manner in which he excelled.
But she wasn’t Zoe.
And he wasn’t interested in the least.
“Thanks, but I’m otherwise engaged,” he replied, focusing his attention on the sable haired woman behind the table.
A.J whirled away. “Asshole.”
“Well, bless your heart,” Zoe said.
He supposed that was code for ‘screw you, buddy’, but he wasn’t sure.
“Wouldn’t life be all dull if we didn’t have pleasure? That’s why I write my books-for my pleasure and hopefully my fans. Now, who can I make this out to?” Zoe’s smile stayed firmly in place as she gripped the book in front of her.
So damned impressed by her, he wanted to clap and whistle. Hell, he was in awe of the way she had handled the situation.
To his immediate left, a group of guys argued over who was next in line at a nearby slot machine. The next thing he knew, one had thrown a punch. A woman screamed as chairs went flying through the air. Chairs that were from the book signing. He craned his head, looking through the crowd for Zoe.
He found her behind the table, face white as she searched the area. For him? It didn’t matter. He had to get to her. Plunging through the mass of bodies, he ducked a fist and shoved men out of the way in his hurry. A sharp jab to his side had him grimacing and cursing. Hands grabbed at his shirt, trying to pull him into the center of the brawl.
A potted plant narrowly missed hitting Zoe’s shoulder. He punched the ass**le touching him and jumped over chairs and the ropes that had contained the crowd.
People swarmed her table, knocking it over and sending her books to the floor. She tripped trying to get out of the way and a man twice her size fell on top of her. She staggered to her feet.
What he saw had icy fear clawing at him. Her dress had been torn and half her hair hung in her eyes. “Zoe,” he shouted, but the crashing furniture and yelling drowned him out.
Security flooded the area, obscuring his view of her for only a minute, but it was enough time for her to disappear.
A flash of her orange dress caught his eye and he followed, watching as a tall man in a dark suit guided Zoe by the elbow. He hoped the guy was security.
Zoe’s flushed face appeared, catching his eye as he neared and her body seemed to visibly relax. “Christian.” She pushed at her escort as she tried to get away from him. “Stop, please. It’s my… He’s my… Christian.”
The man in a three-piece suit bent closer, his mouth moving, but Christian was too far away to hear him.
“Zoe, I’m coming,” he shouted, not giving a damn who recognized him. “Stay right there.”
The couple rounded a corner and he panicked, then his panic turned to unmitigated rage. When he caught up with them, he didn’t think. He grabbed the guy’s fingers from around Zoe’s shoulder and shoved him away from her. Christian didn’t stop until he had him pressed against the wall.
“Christian, no. Don’t hurt him,” she implored, but he ignored her, pressing his forearm against the dark-haired man’s throat.
“He kept you from me,” Christian snarled, black and red dots of rage filling his vision.
“Get the hell off of me, Romanov,” his prisoner bit out, but he ignored him, shoving his knee below the guy’s groin and pushing up.
Christian looked around to make sure they were alone. He wanted to break every bone in the man’s body.
“Mr. Matthews was protecting me.” Zoe’s soft drawl pierced the haze of fury.
“Son of a bitch.” Jordan Matthews was among the top security for celebrities. Hell, he heard he was the top of the pile. Christian mentally counted to twenty before he released Matthews. He took a step back and ran shaky hands through his hair then grabbed Zoe’s elbow, walking away with her.
“Wait.” She stopped, nearly making him stumble. “Shouldn’t you apologize to Mr. Matthews?
Christian glanced back at Mr. Matthews.
Jordan flipped him off.
“Don’t think it’s necessary,” Christian said through clenched teeth. “He should have stopped when you asked.” Actually, Matthews had done exactly the right thing, but he was in no mood to acknowledge that fact. Later when things and heads cooled, he would send him an apology in the form of the bloke’s favorite vice.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Some place where men won’t manhandle you.”
“Does that include you?”
Instead of answering, he pulled her into an unlocked supply closet and secured the door.
“Christian?” Zoe shook as he backed her up against the tall shelves, but not because she thought he would hurt her. The reality of what had happened sank in. This would most likely become the most talked about book signing ever. Flashes of tables overturning, chairs flying, people shouting. A man falling on top of her, his weight crushing. Hands grabbing at her, ripping her dress and pulling at her hair.