Chapter 10
TEN
T he fucking bitch knew exactly what she was doing by showing up when she did.
Of course the set is watched. Stanic isn’t a fool, and neither was Parker. They’d done the same song and dance for years after I left the scene. Without personally firing every single one of them, which is impossible to do, then I’ve got to keep my wits about me and not do anything stupid.
Like the shit I pulled today.
“What did you hear?” I ask her in an undertone.
On my couch, Celeste carefully shifts one leg over the other in a sinuous motion designed to grab the eye. “It’s more like what I saw. Our leading man is an absolute mess. You must have realized what you were doing. We expect better of you.”
I expect better of me as well.
“I bet he ran right to you and cried, didn’t he?”
“Oh, he’s not one of ours.” Celeste waves her hand flippantly. “Although there are plenty of people watching to make sure this is orchestrated the way we want.”
“It’s so easy for you to say it,” I reply with a sneer. “ We . Like you and Stanic are close.” I loop my index around my middle finger.
“Let’s shift the attention back where it belongs. You and your shitty attitude.”
I hold my hands up on either side of my head. “I’m not going to debase myself by telling you he asked for it. If you want to admonish someone, why don’t you chew Greg’s ear? And never fucking surprise me at home again.”
Watching him take advantage of the situation and touch Empire that way—
I glance to the left, and I know Empire is anywhere but in her room being a good girl. I’d bet every last cent to my name she’s still in the hallway listening to us. Annoyance buzzes in my veins.
I don’t need someone else failing to follow through on my instructions.
Celeste catches the way my eyes automatically trail after Empire, and she scoffs. “Honestly, Marcus.” She purrs out my name. In the next moment, she’s on her feet and crossing the room to me.
The air goes tight, congealing in my lungs.
She stops with inches to spare, close enough for me to see every pristine hair of her perfect eyebrows, and runs a perfectly manicured hand down my chest. “Why don’t you want a real woman instead of a little girl? You’d have a much better experience with a partner who knows how hard you like to play and can match you.”
I don’t touch Celeste. I can hardly move a muscle, every part of me straining against the way she presses closer. Within seconds she’s got her tits against my chest and her pelvis arching to bring it into contact with mine.
I’m not backing up. Not when I know it will give her the satisfaction she’s seeking.
“You have no idea what kind of play I like,” I tell her.
“Don’t I?”
“If you did, you’d think twice before offering yourself.” My features twist in a sneer. It’s much easier to let these emotions show, the dark shit.
Disgust, disrespect. Anything except the D Celeste is really aiming for because I know what this is about. A power play.
I grit my teeth, grinding the back molars where she can’t see my reaction, and let Celeste paw me. If her hand drops below the belt, if talk breaks down, then I’ll cross that bridge.
“If you knew what kinds of things I’m into, you’d give me a safe word.” Instead of being deterred, Celeste lifts up on the tip of her toes and nips my lower lip. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”
“ Do about it? Not a fucking thing.”
“Oh, come on. I know your type,” she protests saucily.
I grimace. “And I know yours.” Too many times to count.
Once, I might have even considered them my kryptonite, until Olivia. Until a relatively unknown actress took a chance on me, and together, we ruled the world. I thought I’d loved Olivia Stone, and I’d envied the happiness she and Bennett possessed.
Their perfect little family amid the blazing lights of Hollywood, where the glitter of gold is mostly fake and so are the tits.
Yeah, I’ve been involved with Celeste in one iteration or another, but they all fall short when I hold them up against the real brightness: Empire.
Almost like she’s reading my mind, Celeste arches up and loops her arms around my neck.The movement brings with it the scent of her perfume and something stale like blood left to sit in the sun, the puddle slowly drying into a memory of violence.
The press of her breasts means nothing to be. My dick shrivels up into my body. I’d rather fuck a horse than lay one finger on her, even when she’s not giving me much of a choice.
“I’d gut punch you if you weren’t a woman,” I growl under my breath. “That’s how much I fucking hate you.”
So much hate, and all of it pointed singularly through her to the man whose shadow she stands inside.
She is Stanic’s creature through and through. If that isn’t enough, she reminds me of myself and the version I’ve tried hard to kill and forget ever existed. In the days when I was forced to do anything and everything Stanic wanted with the ruthlessness of the soulless.
Empire won’t see any of this, though. Not from whatever angle she’s found that allows her to listen in on the conversation or, god forbid, watch us.
She won’t see the way my chest clenches and my teeth grind. Or the fierce light in Celeste’s eyes because she knows she’s got me.
I’ve given too much away.
And we both know hatred is a tool to use the same as anything else. Better, even, than most.
You don’t need to like someone to fuck them. Or hurt them. She will wield my hatred of her into something useful to get me in the direction she wants. This isn’t just about the movie anymore, and a part of me wonders if it ever has been.
The carpet underneath my feet might as well be a bog that I’m steadily sinking into.
Celeste chuckles but doesn’t move away. “Risk it. Punch me, push me away. Tell me how you really feel. I love the pain, and I know you do, too. He wouldn’t have sent me to you otherwise.”
This is part of their plan. I go rigid under her probing hands. Waiting for her to finish up the steps or get it out of her system or what the fuck ever before she leaves.
Celeste is the type of person, regardless of her ties to Stanic, who likes having power over people, men in particular.
I know how to handle her in whatever guise she wears. Except tonight I’m home weary, and grinding my molars will only get me so far.
“Come on, Ortega. Marcus .” My name is a promise on those red lips.
Power and problems.
Those two go hand in hand, and Celeste wants them both. She knows whatever buttons she presses today will work against me and against Empire.
“I need you to leave.”
She shakes her head. “What you need is to pull the rose-colored glasses off your face and see what’s right in front of you.”
“You can’t mean you,” I say with a scoff.
“Why not? I’m here, aren’t I? And I’m a hell of a lot more appropriate than where you’ve set your sights. You manage actresses in fairy tales. You do not live them yourself.”
“Stop.”
It’s the same thing Empire said to me, and I’m repeating it now to the same effect. Celeste doesn’t hear me.
The glint in her eyes only increases as her smirk grows. She’s close enough for her front to meld to mine and tie us together, and I’m immovable. She’s the gorgon who’s turned me to stone.
“You think you can just finish filming, call wrap, and suddenly make a home for yourself with the girl? She’s not like us. She will never be like us, and you will never be anything other than what you are.” She keeps one hand wrapped around the base of my neck and slides the other down my chest, resting on my heart. “A brute.”
“So what?”
“What do you think you can offer her? Misery,” Celeste presses on, merciless in her description. Merciless and accurate. “Nothing. In comparison to the life you’ve led, she is nothing but a child. And too innocent for you to claim, no matter what lies you fed her. Or yourself. You’re a man, and she’s a spoiled brat.”
“If you don’t shut your goddamn mouth—”
Instead of giving up, she arches her back, thrusting her breasts up into my face as she kisses me. Her tongue takes advantage of my surprise and glides between my lips, tracing a line across the tip of my own as she angles her head to deepen the kiss.
She tastes like wintergreen and death.
The same taste I’d imagine from a poisonous berry looking oh so tender and delectable only to kill you with your first bite.
Surprise keeps me still, and I clench my hands at my sides rather than wrap them around her like any natural inclination. There she stands, a beautiful and deadly woman, dressed to perfection with a killing glint in her eyes, and bile crawls up my throat.
“Get your shit together,” Celeste murmurs once she breaks the kiss. Every word pierces my flesh. “Or you risk the entire enterprise. I like you. I wouldn’t want you to be a liability, Marcus.”
She finally steps back, and I breathe again. A small kiss to the side of my mouth punctuates the statement, and she turns to walk out, swinging her hips. At the door, she pauses to cast a smirk over her shoulder. Her eyes skip right over me, and I know she’s landed a hit.
The smirk is for Empire alone.