Security maybe? They’re dressed alike. Black shirts, black slacks and black boots. But oh, they are hotties.

I click a few shots of the blond.

I turn back around and scroll through the photos. Nice. Very nice. I’ll send them to Zoe when we get the hotel. That’ll give her something to drool over.

I exhale loudly. Big fun for the day done. I turn to check on my brothers. Still glued to their video screens. Mom would be so pissed if she could see this.

Time to take the toys away and give them a book.

I’m about to interrupt them when then the super-hot guy behind me crosses in front of me and settles into Krystal’s vacant seat.

I give him the stare. “Did I say you could sit next to me?”

He grins. “No, but I didn’t ask. I don’t have to. I’m part of Alan’s private security team. Security sits in the front of the plane. We’re first off. Last on.” He holds out his hand. “Graham Carson.”

I ignore those tan fingers waiting and then he motions for the flight attendant. She brings him a drink. He downs half of it in a single swallow, then lowers a tray table and sets it down.

I glare at him, planting my feet on the ground with a loud thump. “I’m surprised you’re drinking. Doesn’t seem like a good move for security to get drunk on the flight.”

He shrugs. “It’s a long flight to Mumbai. The booze will be out of my system before we land. And something tells me I’m going to need a few drinks sitting next to you.”

Well, that was rude.

He leans into me. “And you look like you could use a friend.”

Fuck. “Maybe, but not you.”

“You know, you won’t get anywhere trying to publicly humiliate your dad. He’s not going to send you home. And he sure as hell is not going to walk away. He’s not programmed like that. And there isn’t anything you could say that would make these people respect and love him less. He’s a good man. You should really knock it off.”

I exhale. “Great. Now you’re a therapist. What are you, bodyguard by day and taking some sort of online psychology classes at night?”

Crap, now he looks amused. “Nope. Don’t need to. I’m ex-Special Forces. I’ve already taken all the online courses. Part of Delta training.”

He says that sort of charming and definitely funny, and has the gall to wait as if expecting me to laugh.

“I read people and situations pretty well,” he continues. “Definitely necessary in my job. Do you want to know how I see this battle laid out?”

“Not particularly.”

He reaches for his drink. “You are trying to get your way fighting a persona, girl, and you don’t know it. You don’t even know the real man. And if you knew the real man, you’d be ashamed of that public show of I hate my daddy you just put us all through. It’s not going to work. It’s sad to see. You are definitely too old to behave that way. And you don’t know your father at all.”

My entire face covers with a burn. “Whose fault is that?” I snap before I can stop myself.

Graham’s smile is gentle and understanding. “No one’s. Sometimes things just are. It’s up to you to make them either better or worse.”

I start turning the camera over and over in my lap to hold back my tears and words.

“Instead of sneaking around catching pictures of guys you think are hot for the next four months—” My cheeks heat even more. He grins with full dimples showing. “Oh yeah, you’re not very sly and I saw you taking pictures of me and Dillon.”

“Oh, a drunk, conceited bodyguard. Just great.”

Damn, all he does is smile. “Why don’t you ask your dad if you can film? You’re a filmmaker, right? The camera doesn’t lie. Not if you don’t let it. Film everything and you might learn something about your father.”

“Thanks. If I need advice again, you’ll be the first I run to.”

He nods. “Good. Improvement.”

I roll my eyes.

He leans back in his seat and adjusts his body. “I’m going to sleep. Don’t photograph me. And definitely don’t yell at your dad again until you’re off the plane. I need to be well rested when we land. It’s going to be a zoo in Mumbai and it’s not a completely safe place. I need to be sharp.”

I make a face. “I’ll try to contain myself on all fronts, soldier.”

Laughing, he closes his eyes. “You’re quick and funny. God, you’re exactly like your dad. You just don’t know it.”

Had to get one last dig in.

A last-word freak.

Great.

I can’t wait to get off this fucking plane, and Graham’s right. It’s a long flight to Mumbai. Shit, what am I supposed to do now?

Two hours later, I’m bored out of my skull and I can’t stop turning Graham Carson’s words over in my head. He’s wrong. I do know my dad. I’m just like him—unfortunately—and that makes me an expert on the man.

But Graham is right about one thing.

I do need something to do for the next four months. Weeks only thinking about all the shit that went down in the ’Sades and Bobby dumping me will make me crazy.

I am a filmmaker.

There isn’t a film crew on this tour.

It’s my dad’s last tour.

I exhale heavily.

How do I get Alan to trust me with a camera?

Oh fuck, I’m just going to ask and see what happens.

I take my video camera from my bag, unbuckle my seat belt and carefully stand. I don’t want to wake Graham and have him see me grovel to my dad getting permission for this. And I definitely don’t want him watching if I get shot down.

The sudden fix of eyes on me as I move down the center of the plane is unnerving. Shit, I wish everyone would stop staring at me.

I spot my dad with my sister. Well, isn’t this just one happy little family? Krystal is lying with her head on a pillow across my dad’s thighs and they’re both sound asleep.

I avoid the sudden weight of Linda sharply pinning me with her gaze as if she’s in fear of this, battle the rising emotion in my throat, and ease down beside my dad’s seat.

I’m crouched close up next to Alan, hoping for some semblance of privacy but, fuck, I can feel more than a few of them watching me. Crap, is the entire tour going to be this way?

“Can I take pictures and film if I promise not to post it?”

My dad jerks awake and stares at me. His eyes slowly widen. I can tell my talking to him surprises him, and oddly, he sort of looks happy about it.

“Why do you want to film?” he asks cautiously.

Well, here goes nothing.

“Because that’s what I do. I film everything. Bobby said that this is the last tour. You haven’t got a film crew. There’s no photographer. I film everything. That’s what I do. Can I film?”

“Did you really get into USC film school?”

Fuck, how does he know that? My eyes narrow on my sister. Damn it, Krystal.

“Why do you want to know?” I hold back my anger, not wanting to blow this now that I’ve started it.

His brows lift. “If you want to film, you’ll answer my questions.”

Jeez, why does he have to be such a control freak? It’s a yes or no question, Alan.

I let out a long, rattling breath. “Fine. Yes. I got in. My ambition in life is a three hundred thousand dollar education so I can strive to underachieve by making low budget documentary films that will make me no money at all. Happy now?”

He stares at me as if he doesn’t know whether I’m joking or trying to piss him off.

“You can film anything you want under two conditions,” he says patiently. “The first is you don’t send it viral. No posting online. And before you do anything with the film, I get to see it and approve.”

My cheeks go crimson. “I already told you I wouldn’t post it. What’s the second condition?”

“When we land you get online, accept your admission to USC, tell your mother you got in, and then show me how to pay for it.”

Well, that I didn’t expect.

I look away. “What’s it to you if I go?”

“I think I’ll enjoy watching you evolve into being a capitalist.”