Chapter 12
TWELVE
T here’s no reason to hunt Empire. The tracking app on my phone pings once. She’s at River’s house. It might not be the best protected, but at least I know she’s not going anywhere.
I should have guessed she’d run away.
After a hard day of shooting, there’s only so much a sane person can take before they crack. Celeste’s presence is enough to push anyone the rest of the way off the ledge, but I know this goes beyond a stressful day.
Empire zoned in on the lipstick.
And I’d been too slow to block her before she made a run for it. Too distracted to do anything except yell after her and hope something would stick. Hope she’d have compassion on me when I can’t muster anything for her.
I sent off a round of texts to my people to get security in place to watch River’s house. With that accomplished, I open up the message thread between us.
Take tonight to get your shit together.
Be back on set tomorrow, 6am.
If she doesn’t show up tomorrow, then we’re going to have a massive problem, especially considering Greg’s absence. The shoot schedule absolutely has to go off without a hitch.
I stare at the screen until the words blur, but no dots appear to show me she’s typing. Hell, she hasn’t even opened the text, and no amount of brooding is going to change it.
With a glass of scotch in my hand, the dregs left over after Empire’s rampage last night, I stare at a spot on the wall. I let my head drop back against the couch, sighing, running my tongue over my teeth and hoping the scotch will wipe away the wintergreen taste of Celeste.
Being back in my apartment isn’t as great as I thought it would be. Maybe because I’ve spent most of the day in here beating my fucking head to the wall, waiting for logic to intercede.
Logic where I’m not driven by a primal need to defend the spoiled brat. Logic where I’m finally able to separate my emotions from my thinking mind and make the right decision to protect her. The same goal is still in place; I’ve just made it that much harder.
And somehow, the apartment isn’t home anymore.
I don’t feel like me .
Losing my shit on Greg was a mistake. I don’t regret a single punch or ounce of blood spatter, but there are better ways to handle things, ways that draw less attention.
Security booted me off my own set. Not permanently, of course, only until I calmed my ass down.
It hasn’t happened.
I’m a bomb ready to explode and destroy everyone around me.
I debated getting shit faced during the day and decided it was a waste of time. A better use would be getting reacquainted with Stanic’s organization and the things that have changed over the years.
Turns out, not a whole lot is different.
He’s managed to carve out a few more inroads into the industry, things he would rather me not know but must have figured I’d find on my own. Breaking through their firewalls hadn’t taken me long at all.
The information is there like low-hanging fruit ready to be taken.
I glance at the phone again to see the screen black, and the press of a finger doesn’t show me a reply from Empire. The message indicates that it’s been read, but she hasn’t bothered to reply.
Why would she? I’ve pushed her, confronted her, tormented her. I am literal scum, and while I don’t blame her for taking off, I wish she’d have stayed to talk to me. To let me apologize.
And she’s still at River’s place. The silent treatment is only going to last so long before something cracks. The phone vibrates in my hand, and I swallow the lump in my throat. A small smile tugs at my lips at the caller ID.
“Well,” I answer. “You’re certainly a sight for sore ears.”
Sherry chuckles, the sound dry and overworked. “You have no idea, Marcus. No idea what your little girlfriend said to me. I took a little time off for myself and must have lost track of things.”
“Little girlfriend? I’m intrigued.” I shift on the couch to get more comfortable. “When did you speak to Empire?”
The other day, Sherry took it upon herself to have Empire sign the papers dissolving my guardianship. But I haven’t had a fucking chance to ask my assistant about it yet. Relief at hearing from her, safe and sound, takes precedence.
“Oh, not Miss Stone,” Sherry clarifies.“The blonde bitch with balls bigger than yours.”
My stomach gives a single spike. I should have known.
“If she gave you any trouble, then—” I start.
“Don’t waste your time making threats you have no power to follow through on,” Sherry interrupts. “I’m calling to make sure you’re okay. We both know you can’t survive a week without me.”
I scoff and take a sip of scotch. “It hasn’t been a week yet.”
“Which is why I’m checking in now rather than waiting until you fall apart.”
Sherry’s dry tone and ire are exactly what I need to smooth out the wrinkles. The booze helps, too.
It burns in the most delicious way but does nothing to temper the anger and frustration still bubbling up inside me as constant as a heartbeat. “Your worry is misplaced. And sadly, you’ll be seeing more of Blonde Bitch until I can find a way to get rid of her. For right now, it’s in both of our best interests to play nice.”
Sherry doesn’t know anything about my old life, but she’s observant enough to know when something fishy is going on. She’s also smart enough to understand she needs to keep her mouth shut. Which she has done many times, most often with Empire.
“I figured as much.” Only Sherry could manage to sound put out and annoyed as well as concerned in the same breath. “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. Say the word.”
“Lay low for a little bit. If Celeste told you to take some time off, then do it. Go visit your mom in Guam for all I care.”
It sounds like a fucking terrible joke, but it’s true. I’d rather have Sherry out of the country than in harm’s way. She’s not a target. Empire is. They’re the only two people I gave a shit about, and one of them is shackled to me.
“Heard.” Sherry knows the ropes at this point and won’t argue.
Good help is hard to find.
Help that keeps her nose in place and where it belongs, that doesn’t ask questions and is willing to do whatever is necessary. Sherry is a rare gem, and hearing from her loosens a bit of tension I hadn’t been aware of carrying in my shoulders.
“Take off as soon as possible,” I add.
“And what about her?”
“I’ll deal with Blonde Bitch. Stop worrying about me.”
“I mean Empire this time.”
I can’t fucking keep up. My head is spinning, and it has nothing to do with the liquor. “Let me handle our starlet. Everything is going to be okay; there’s no need for you to worry.”
“Of course I worry. With everything going on in the papers, you’re causing quite a stir. Not all press is good press, Marcus. You know this better than anyone else.”
You’re telling me . “Drop it, Sherry. And get out of town.”
She chuckles. “Fine. Be good,” she says, her kind of send-off, and then she hangs up on me.
It’s a small measure of relief to hear from her but not nearly enough for overwhelming confidence in my next steps. Which spell disaster for everyone if I fumble.
Maintaining control and doing it with ego, whether real or perceived, is the key to getting us out of this. And although every step I take hurts Empire more, I’ll make my apologies when we’re clear. When we’ve crossed over the finish line and she’s safe.
Apologize, then get the fuck out of her life. Because she’ll never be safe as long as I’m around.
I down the last of the scotch and stare at the empty bottle. Not even enough dregs at the bottom to cause a buzz.
Sleep is impossible, and before the sun rises in the morning, I’m out of bed. My feet land hard on the cold carpet, the air conditioner blasting and keeping the room at Arctic temperatures.
Empire still hasn’t fucking responded to my message.
I curl my fist around my cell, debating throwing it across the room. Everyone has a six a.m. deadline to get to set. If she’s not there, then it will be my pleasure to drive to River’s place and drag Empire, kicking and screaming and sexy as sin, back to set.
The schedule has been shuffled around to accommodate more of her scenes without Mr. Patterson. We’ll make it work as long as she does her part. Right now, my hold on her is tenuous at best, and fuck all, but I’ve done it to myself.
She shouldn’t have to pay the price for dealing with me, but she has, and she will again.
My stomach rumbles, and I slap a hand against it, threading the fingers of my other hand through my hair. Any more of this shit, and I’ll be dead.
I should already be dead. I’ve got nothing but borrowed time ahead of me.
Rather than waiting for Celeste to get the jump on me again, I drag my less-than-happy ass to the office. She isn’t there, although I half expected her to be. A glance at the clock shows I’ve got an hour to make it to set.
These are the witching hours for people like me, the ones who barely get any sleep, and when they do, their dreams are filled with nightmares of a miles-long list of things to accomplish.
Time for me to give the reins a yank and see what I can pull.
I send a text to the number Celeste handed off to me, and I know without a shadow of a doubt she’ll follow through. Snap to attention, more like, and come calling once I crook a finger.
She struts through the door less than fifteen minutes later, looking as polished and put together as though she’d had hours of preparation. Her icy gaze darts up to meet mine, and those lips curve sensuously, painted for battle.
“I knew I’d hear from you.” Celeste makes herself comfortable on the corner of my desk, perched like a prized pureblood cat ready for her show. I stay sitting and refuse to get up. “Are you finally ready to admit you want to play with the big girls rather than the brats?”
“I wanted to tell you to your face that I will be on set with Empire from now on.” I drum my fingers along the desktop. “Tell your scrutiny goons that the next time they try to stop me, the repercussions will be worse than whatever fresh hell you promised them.”
Celeste arches a delicate brow. “Oh?”
“No matter what happens, I plan to stay on set. I’m not asking for your permission. This is a courtesy conversation and nothing more.”
Celeste’s laughter digs beneath my skin like a wasp burrowing into wood. “I find this remarkably amusing. You’re not in a position to call shots with me or with my men. From what I’ve heard, you posed a serious problem to yourself and our actors yesterday. This cannot be allowed to continue.”
“And it won’t.” Just like I’m not going to let her chastise me. My expression goes sour, and the few sips of coffee I managed churn in my gut. “What do you want, Celeste? How can I get you off my back?”
“I’m more interested in you getting me on mine.” Her laughter is back. It’s never left, only growing stronger, louder. More insidious. “It’s all about playing games, Marcus. Which one would you like to know about? There are too many to count in play. I’m not sure you’re capable of following them all.”
“Fuck you.”
“Come on. Ask me again. Better yet, do your worst. I can’t wait.” Celeste shifts one thigh over the other and flashes a glimpse of her panties between her legs.
She’ll be waiting an eternity if she thinks I’m going to put my cock anywhere near her.
“I’ll be on set from now on,” I repeat, sending the message home. “Better make your accommodations. And replace your batteries. You’re getting nothing out of me.”