In the Spotlight

  Table of Contents

  New York City Fixers

  In the Spotlight

  About This Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  More of the Fixers

  About The Author

  Copyright

  Contents

  New York City Fixers

  In the Spotlight

  About This Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  More of the Fixers

  About The Author

  Copyright

  NEW YORK CITY FIXERS

  In the Spotlight (prequel)

  Greg & Sylvia

  A Broadway geek gets into an incredible plot of her own when she finds herself pretend-dating a Hollywood star.

  By Your Rules

  Nate & Claire

  A man used to saving everyone. A woman who doesn't need saving.

  By Your Side

  Shawn & Alicia

  Falling in love with your boss is never a good idea. Or is it?

  By Your Heart

  Dean & Marissa

  Neither of them thought they'd ever get a second chance on love. They were wrong.

  And a stand-alone sequel to the main trilogy:

  Falling For the Best Man

  Kevin & Charlie

  Two men meet at the week-long wedding party and get swept into a summer camp romance. *M/M romance*

  All books are available on Amazon and in the Kindle Unlimited program.

  IN THE SPOTLIGHT

  New York City Fixers prequel

  Ally Decker

  Website | Newsletter

  Pretending to date a movie star definitely wasn't on Sylvia Urban's agenda, but a girl has to do what a girl has to do. And after a paparazzo catches them in rather uncompromising position, this is exactly what this girl has to do.

  Greg Abrams needs to toe the line if he wants his new project to get green-lighted, but when the cute Broadway geek almost literally falls into his life, everything becomes complicated really fast.

  As the pair grows closer, the 'pretend' part of pretend dating gets thrown out of the window, but after they started off as a lie, it's hard to know what's real and what's not.

  And the clock is ticking.

  #

  In Your Spotlight is a stand-alone romance with no cliffhangers.

  The story was previously a part of Some Like It Geek box-set.

  CHAPTER ONE

  SYLVIA SHIVERED as she exited the theater into the chilly night. The weather in New York City ignored the calendars often enough, so it wasn't surprising that in late March they were still experiencing temperatures below forty degrees, but Sylvia always dressed with her optimism instead of her common sense.

  If her damn headache turned into a cold, she would only have herself to blame.

  She tried to burrow under her coat and push her hands deeper into her pockets, considering her options. She paused on the sidewalk as people coming out of the theater moved around her. She should really go home, take an aspirin, and sleep it off—whatever it was—but she'd planned to go to the stage door tonight. Charlie Amis had performed today as the lead, and Sylvia had loved him since she'd seen him last year in Coming to Seattle, so she'd been hoping to meet him tonight.

  I'll take the aspirin and go to bed, she promised herself as she turned into the side alley. In an hour or so.

  Someone bumped into her, pushing her to the side, and Sylvia lost her footing. She managed to avoid falling to the ground by reaching out to brace herself against the wall, but dark spots clouded her vision. She closed her eyes. Damn it.

  Nausea joined the headache, and Sylvia squatted down, taking a deep breath, but that just made things worse. The smell of the dumpsters a few feet away hit her, and she almost gagged.

  "Hey, are you okay?"

  She raised her head slowly to look at the good Samaritan passer-by, and the first thing she noticed were shiny black shoes. As she let her gaze follow the path up from there, Sylvia took in the sight of a well-dressed, tall man with wide shoulders, who looked exactly like…

  "You look like Greg Abrams." The words slipped out before she could stop herself, and Sylvia winced.

  The man sighed. "Yeah, I know, I've heard it before."

  Greg Abrams was an international movie star whose face was on a cover of a magazine every other week. His latest movie, the third one in the Collectibles franchise, was the highest grossing movie of all time. She wouldn't get it wrong.

  "Oh my God. I'm about to throw up in front of Greg Abrams." Her brain-to-mouth filter still wasn't working, but the man in front of her only chuckled and took a small step back.

  "Are you really?" Greg-Freaking-Abrams asked, handing her a small water bottle he apparently had in his pocket, ready to rescue random women from utter humiliation.

  She took it after a second of hesitation. "The jury's still out on that one."

  "Drink the water, then. Slow sips should settle your stomach."

  Sylvia had no idea if it was true—she could just as well end up throwing up water instead of her early dinner—but in the end, she did as he'd told her.

  After a minute or two, she began to feel marginally better. The headache was still there, but the nausea had retreated and the black spots were gone.

  "Thank you. I don't think I'm going to throw up now."

  Greg-Freaking-Abrams—Sylvia really couldn't stop thinking about him this way—offered her a quick, one-sided smile. "Great. Then it's relatively safe to do this." He eyed the wall next to her and stepped closer, squatting by her side without leaning against the building.

  "What are you doing?" Sylvia raised her eyebrows at the guy.

  "Keeping you company until you feel better."

  "I feel better already."

  He shook his head. "Better than now. Good enough to actually leave this…place." He frowned at their surroundings, and she didn't blame him. As she looked around now, she realized she'd ended up in probably the filthiest corner of the street, with a dumpster only a few feet away on either side of her.

  She closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm trying to will myself to feel better faster," she told him.

  He chuckled."Well, sometimes it works."

  Sylvia opened her eyes to look at him. "Does it?"

  "It worked for me a few times, I guess." He glanced down at the ground. "I tend to feel sick right before a big premiere."

  She grimaced. "I imagine throwing up on the red carpet could potentially be worse than doing it in the back alley."

  "Potentially, yes."

  Sylvia took another sip of the water to have a moment to collect herself. She was sitting between the dumpsters and talking with a movie star about throwing up. Or, she was having some vivid hallucinations. If she had a fever, it wasn't that improbable…

  "So, what are you doing here?" Greg asked right when the silence was about to slide into the uncomfortable territory. "Were you coming from the theater?"

  Sylvia winced and remembered where she'd been heading to. Damn it, she was goi
ng to miss Charlie Amis after all. "Yes. I wanted to go to the stage door." Then she realized she hadn't even introduced herself. "I'm Sylvia, by the way."

  "Greg. Nice to meet you." He smiled as if it was truly nice to meet a strange woman in a back alley like this. "I saw Illuminations as well. Great show."

  "Right?" Sylvia brightened and sat up straighter. "I love it. Tonight was my third time."

  "Third time? Wow, that's some dedication." Greg shook his head. "I don't remember watching anything three times in recent years."

  Sylvia decided she probably shouldn't tell him that she'd watched her favorite play eight times last season. Three times was not uncommon for her at all.

  "I'm a big Broadway addict," she admitted. "That's kind of what I do."

  "Lucky you." Greg smiled. "There's a lot of shows I want to see while I'm here, but this was my first. I only got into town yesterday."

  "You were lucky to see Charlie Amis as the lead. He's an understudy, but he's amazing," Sylvia said, playing with the cap of the bottle. "Not that the main actor isn't great, too, I just… Charlie's something else."

  Greg's smile only grew. "That he is." He shifted in his crouch but still kept away from the wall. Sylvia didn't blame him. His coat probably cost more than she spent on tickets in a year. "How are you feeling?"

  "I'm fine." The nausea was completely gone now and the headache was halfway there. "I think I'm ready to leave."

  She pulled her legs closer to her so it would be easier to get up, but he raised his hand, stopping her.

  "Listen, I would give you a ride home, but I'm"—his lips twisted in a mocking smile—"under a watchful eye. If someone catches us getting into one car, it'll turn into a mess."

  Sylvia was shaking her head before he even finished. "No, really, forget it, the metro is close and—"

  "No, no, no way." He grabbed a wallet from his pocket. "Taxi will take you home. My treat."

  "I'm not taking your money," she protested. "I'm fine. Besides, I can afford a cab if I need one."

  He lowered his head a bit to catch her gaze and Sylvia lost her train of thought. Damn, but his presence suddenly got more intense. "Look, I'm not trying to offend you or anything. I'd drive you home myself, but since I can't, this is the least I can do." He handed her a fifty-dollar bill.

  Sylvia looked at the money. She hadn't even been planning to take a cab before. "I really don't—"

  "My mother would kill me if I let you go on without making sure you're safe. Fifty bucks isn't a high price to pay for staying alive."

  Not wanting to fight with him about this anymore, she finally accepted the gift. "Thank you."

  He rose to his feet and extended a hand to help her get up. When she looked up at him, she was suddenly hit once again by the fact that he was a big shot movie star—a big shot movie star who hung around with her between the dumpsters, offered to pay for her cab, and now pulled her up so easily she didn't even stumble like she usually did.

  Greg gave her a nod and a smile before stepping out of the shadows first. She followed right after him only to lose her footing a second later and fall forward. He caught her easily and pulled her into a standing position, but they ended up with barely any space left between them.

  Sudden flashes from the side blinded her, and Sylvia hid her head against his chest on instinct.

  Oh God, she thought, closing her eyes. So much for not making a mess.

  CHAPTER TWO

  FUCK. Greg turned away from the damn paparazzo and threw an arm over Sylvia's back to keep her close to him. He had a second or two to make a decision, and he hated it—hated it every time it took him by surprise like that. He'd learned a long time ago that this was not the time to explain anything, because that just gave those damn vultures time to take more photos. And some of the worst ones tried to provoke him, too, so they would have a better shot or a juicier story.

  His driver was waiting at the other end of the alley they were in, so they could head there, hopefully losing the paparazzo in the small crowd mingling around the stage door. The other option was to go back to the front of the theater and catch a taxi, but they'd risk drawing more attention since the guy would definitely follow them. Not to mention the taxi driver could later sell the story or the address. Or both.

  It wasn't really a choice, after all.

  A second later, he was pushing Sylvia toward his car. "Come on."

  "Where are we going?" She had to half-walk, half-run to keep up with him, but Greg could still hear the clicks of the camera and the steps behind them, so he couldn't afford to slow down.

  "To my car. We have to get away."

  She hid her face in the big collar of her coat and didn't protest. Good. If they started to argue out here, the media would have a field day, and he would be screwed the moment Dot Entertainment heard about this.

  He might already be screwed, but he couldn't think about it now.

  The crowd at the stage door wasn't big, but Greg and Sylvia had finally caught a break. Right as they were passing the entrance, the door had opened and the previously spread out, little groups stormed closer, blocking the paparazzo's path.

  Greg quickened his pace even more, and Sylvia ran right next to him. Less than a minute later, they were safe in the back of his car.

  "As fast as you can, Jake," he told the driver. The car was out on the street before Greg shut the door properly. "And let's do some sight-seeing."

  "What?" Sylvia looked at him as if he was insane. Her face was red and she was breathing fast, and Greg once again noted how beautiful she was. Her black, short hair framed her round face, and when she'd smiled at him back in the alley, there was a ghost of a dimple on her right cheek. But her bright gray eyes were the most arresting thing about her looks. Greg, who in his private life preferred to not have people look at him, wanted Sylvia's eyes watching him all the time.

  But it wasn't important right now.

  "I meant driving around to lose the tail if we have one," he told her, raising both hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture.

  Sylvia immediately turned to look through the back window.

  "Don't think about it. Jake can lose anyone."

  She rubbed the tips of her fingers over her forehead. "Don't think about it, sure," she muttered. "It's not as if I got thrown into a spy movie all of a sudden or anything."

  Greg sagged against his seat. "Nothing as fancy as that, I'm afraid. No spies and no cool gadgets to save the day. Instead, we get pictures in the papers and, most likely, dating rumors. If we're lucky."

  Sylvia looked at him with widened eyes. "If we're lucky?"

  He ran his hand over the back of his neck. The photographer had caught them coming out of a dark corner in an alley. "Dating" was probably the nicest way they were going to spin it. But Greg wasn't about to tell the woman he just met that someone would take her for a prostitute before tomorrow was over.

  He had to tell her something, though. "Yeah. There's no way it won't show up somewhere. I'm sorry."

  Sylvia closed her eyes tightly, scrunching up her whole face. "Damn it."

  Greg looked out of the window at the street they were passing. He'd just gotten to New York yesterday. How could it have gone to hell so quickly? He could already hear Marlow, the VP of Dot Entertainment. I told you so. You can't keep out of trouble. Get your ass back to L.A. Greg's stomach turned. He'd fought hard so they'd let him come here, and it might all be over as soon as tomorrow morning.

  "No one is tailing us," Jake said from the driver's seat. It should've relaxed Greg, but he knew it didn't really matter much at this point.

  Well, no. It did matter. It had to matter to Sylvia. He snapped out of his self-pity and looked back at her. She stared at him, probably waiting for him to come up with something to do now. He was the resident paparazzo expert between the two of them, after all.

  He took a deep breath. "Listen, we have a few options here, okay? And we need to show a united front, because when the photos come out, it's mu
ch, much easier to contain when there's no differences between our stories."

  "But when we tell the truth, it'll be the same story," Sylvia said with a frown.

  I wish. "Sadly, that's usually not the case with the tabloid press. Every detail counts. If you say there were two dumpsters, and I say there was one, they'll accuse us of lying."

  "Well, you'd be the one lying, since there were two." She offered him a quick smile, and he chuckled almost despite himself.

  "There were two. But as I said, we need to get our story straight." He sat back in his seat and looked out of the window to think. Then he turned to her again. "One, we can go to my hotel room and strategize there, call my publicist and get in front of the story. The downside of this option is that someone could already know where I'm staying, and when we show up there together and someone takes a photo, that'll only make it worse."

  Sylvia started shaking her head the moment he mentioned his hotel room, so he moved on.

  "Two, we could go to your place and do basically the same but without the added risk of being seen. Or three, we drive around and talk here."

  Neither option was ideal, but these were what he could come up with on the fly. His history of dealing with paparazzi was long and hardly pleasant, but back in L.A., it was different. And if a fire got started, his publicist, Roy, handled it quickly and without fuss. This time, Greg was alone out here, and the stakes were higher. And since Roy wasn't too happy about him going off to New York in the first place, he was unlikely to make it a priority to help Greg stay here.

  "No to the hotel, and no to my apartment." Sylvia pushed her hair behind her ears. "No offense—because you seem nice and all—but I'm not going to either of those places with a guy I don't know."

  "Car then?"

  She stared through the window for a moment, worrying her lower lip with her teeth—and Greg's eyes weren't drawn to that sight, they weren't—before she took out her phone from her purse.