Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
M arcus ran his hands over the curve of my ass like he wanted to memorize every inch of skin. And when he spanked me? I arched into him like a cat begging to be touched.
The clap echoed in the back of the car and through my body, and I wanted more. I want to be bruised. His teeth prints throb with my pulse, but after the spanking, an aura of calm settled over me until even the bright lights and flashing cameras didn’t faze me.
I step through the crowd on his arm and smile for the paparazzi.
The bit dissolved the haze of alcohol in my system. I’m blissfully aware of everything and horny as hell, ready to explode.
I want more of the delicious pain, of feeling him use his strength on me. Marcus doesn’t pull punches. Not when he speaks and not when he’s spanking me. Funny enough, I can’t stand when he talks down to me, but when he uses his strength for pleasure, I want more of it. I want to feel his lust sizzling through my system and reminding me there are enjoyable aspects to pain.
I’m still at the mercy of his hold.
I knew he’d be pissed the fuck off with my dress change. God, the look on his face…the way he glowered at being thwarted sent a thrill through my bloodstream.
Drinking hadn’t been the best idea, but the buzz from the liquor was as welcome as the pain. I bite my lip as he parades me through the crowd, enjoying this rare moment of resistance, of wildness.
Calm, I realize, in a way I haven’t been in a long time.
I might buck against the shackles he’s thrown on me, but I like it when he pulls back.
This is the only time I enjoy the push-pull dynamic. And I wonder if it will last past tonight.
“Miss Stone! Empire!” The press calls my name as they move closer like a wave on the shore, determined to crash down and break. To elicit some kind of change. “Tell us more about the film you’ve been working on and your experience with shooting your first major motion picture.”
The questions fly from every angle, and Marcus takes over to answer for me. I’m content to let him hold me tight and feel the rumble of his laughter and his amusement at being in control. This is his element.
I’m not sure it’s ever really been mine. I thought it might have been once.
Now I’m not sure anymore.
Once we make it down the red carpet, the interior of the building is relatively subdued compared to the chaos outside. The only press allowed inside are those with passes, and they possess a level of class the others lack.
This is the second event I’ve gone to with Marcus since my parents died. The second one where I’ve had to stand up straight and pretend like everything is all right. Maybe that’s why I got into Dad’s liquor while the stylists did their best on me.
Maybe that’s why I wanted a little more courage than my poor, tired mind could muster.
“Empire Stone?”
Marcus steps away for a second, and when I glance over, in his place is an actor I’ve only seen from a distance. I blink up, up, and up into a face carved by the gods themselves.
“Jacob Kessler,” the young man continues. He holds out a hand until I place mine in it, and he draws me forward, pressing a light kiss to one cheek and then the other. “I’ve heard many things about you.”
“And somehow you’re still smiling,” I reply, drawn into the banter easily. My gosh, he’s pretty to look at. I’ve always thought so. “It’s lovely to meet you, Jacob.”
“The pleasure is mine. Why would I not smile? You’re a vision. And as sweet as people claim you are.” He eyes me up and down but not in a lecherous way. Appreciative, considerate, interested.
And sweet? Me?
“Who have you been talking to?” I blurt out, barely aware he’s still holding my hand. “No one in their right mind would call me sweet.”
Jacob leans in closer and says with a stage whisper, “Who said they were in their right mind?”
Laughter comes easily, and a great bubble of it.
“Between you and me, promoting the movie is the worst part. Because you don’t get a reprieve even if the event is for another project.” He keeps hold of me for half a heartbeat longer before dropping it, but he keeps close to my side. “You’ve got to work the circuit.”
“So I’m finding out.”
He chuckles at my tone. “I’m going to guess you’re not really a fan.”
“I mean…” I bite down on my lip. His presence is comforting, making it a little easier to speak without a weight on my shoulders. “It’s been fun. Dipping my toe into the pool, you know, but I’m still not sure I really like the water.”
“I totally get it.”
Blond and gorgeous, Jacob Kessler has all the makings of Hollywood’s next “it” man. The kind who guarantees a movie’s success even if it flops, just by his name alone.
He has the chops to back up his looks as well. Last season he was nominated for an Emmy.
“Have you noticed it yet?” he asks. “The attention zeroing in on a particular target?”
“You mean, how I’ll be playing the promo queen tonight?” I grab a flute of champagne from a passing server and take a sip, careful not to drain the whole damn thing. My throat is parched. “Absolutely.”
Jacob grabs a glass as well and taps his to mine. “The hoops you jump through to please the people are unreal sometimes.”
He’s too hot for his own good. Incredibly so, to the point where other starlets and even seasoned actresses twice and three times his age circle us. Desperate to grab a shred of his attention. I watch them from his side but at a distance, like they’re the fish in an aquarium and I’m just passing by.
Interesting to be on this side of things.
Yes, I’m the promo queen, but Jacob is the one drawing the scrutiny, not me.
“From what I’ve seen, it doesn’t even stop when you sleep.You have to eat, breathe, and live each part until there’s nothing left of you,” I murmur.
He nudges me gently. “You know what helps? Having friends who understand and also know the real you. They keep you grounded.”
“I suppose you’d like to be that kind of friend for me?” Flirting comes naturally, which gives me a little shock.
Jacob is charming and sweet, the polar opposite of Marcus in every way. Why shouldn’t I flirt with him?
I grin, my stomach flipping in a sweet way when his smile draws wider, too.
“Actually, I’d like to work with you at some point,” he adds with a conspiratorial wink. “If you don’t think it’s too forward to bring up work while we’re supposed to be playing.”
“With me ?” Surprise flickers through me. “Why?”
Jacob roars with laughter. I blink at him, struggling to keep up, wondering where I’ve missed the joke.
“Because you’re talented. Because your parents were legends and I lost my chance to work with them. A host of reasons, Empire. I’d be happy to lay them all out on the table for you sometime.”
He takes another sip of champagne, and the paparazzi snap away, capturing the moment like it’s something noteworthy.
I shrug. “At least you’re honest about it.”
And it’s nice to talk to someone like him. He’s not only around my age, but he understands the pressures and doesn’t put on airs. From what I’ve seen.
“Always. It’s only my second best quality, too.”
“And what would your first one be?” I turn to face him fully.
A throat clears, and the temperature drops before I see Marcus, returned from his expedition to Schmooze Island. He’s smiling, but the gesture is anything but friendly. I take an involuntary step away from Jacob.
“I’d hoped you two would eventually make the rounds,” he bites out. “Have you officially been introduced, Mr. Kessler?”
Marcus is capital- P pissed. It’s impossible to miss if you know him and easy to dismiss as something else if you’re looking at him head-on.
“Oh yes,” Jacob continues smoothly. “Once I heard Empire would be here tonight, I knew I couldn’t miss the opportunity.”
“He called me sweet,” I tell Marcus. Oof, maybe I drank too much, and my original buzz hasn’t worn off. I’m running the risk of sounding overjoyed.
Marcus is the opposite. If anything, he grows surlier than he was before, and my ass twitches in response, remembering how tender both cheeks were underneath his hands.
“He has no idea just how sweet you really are.” His voice drops into panty-melting territory, but in the next breath, he says to Jacob, “I heard they’re coming out with mixed reviews for your Bali piece.”
Crisp and abrupt. The same tone he pulls out when he’s doing something he’d rather not be. I hear it all the time.
Is this because of how I acted in the limo? I’d been the brat he named me, having heard it too many times to handle gracefully.
“Funny, I haven’t heard any mixed reviews.” Again, Jacob’s answer is immediate and relaxed, his posture easy, and his face open and friendly. “Although I’m sure the subject matter isn’t for everyone. I knew it when I accepted the script.”
They go through the mincing steps of pleasantries for a moment longer before Marcus threads his arm through mine and hauls me forward. We find our seats in the theater, Jacob offering regrets at being seated elsewhere and promising to get in touch.
He disappears without hearing Marcus growl under his breath.
“Stop,” I hiss from the corner of my mouth. “Everyone is staring at you.”
Because of the story’s about us.
“You’re acting like an animal,” I go on.
“Good.”
As hard as I tried to be the promo queen tonight, the false news pieces constantly filtered through my head.
They wanted to make up stories about me and Marcus, and now, no matter what kind of big pictures are coming out, they focus entirely too much on the two of us. Me talking to Jacob is only another layer to the story, an added threat to whatever they’ve woven and want to sell as truth.
“Let them fucking stare,” Marcus continues under his breath. “It will give them something to think about.”
“You don’t need to manhandle me,” I say, yanking discreetly at my arm. “I’m allowed to talk to a guy if I want to.” Considering all the times Marcus has thrown me away?
He’s made it clear he doesn’t see me as anything except a pawn to move around whenever he feels like it, even if he likes spanking me.
And what do I do about it? Absolutely nothing.
Guilt wars with disgust at my own behavior, and it doesn’t matter how good the screening is, I can’t stop my mind from wandering. A thousand directions at once, and I land on none of them.
The screening finally ends, and I’m numb, limp, worn out. I let Marcus drag me out of the theater while he holds up his hand to the cameras like a shield, escorting me to the waiting car without granting a single interview. So much for networking.
My stomach hollows out further, and the dress I chose is suddenly a little too tight, too high, for me. This is what happens when the liquor is out of your system. It’s not like it would last forever. And I knew it when I tried to get drunk.
Life kinda sucks without it.
Marcus says nothing throughout the entire drive back to the apartment, keeping his distance from me. Without his voice, the silence is weighty. It’s lonely when it should be comforting.
The drive passes quickly, and exhaustion sinks me lower into my seat than before. This day passed so quickly that everything that transpired has all melded into one giant memory I want to forget.
He pulls up not to the apartment like I thought, but in front of my parents’ house once more.
“I thought you were going back to your place.”
“What difference will it make?” He’s out of the car and letting the door slam behind him in the next breath.
I suck air into my overworked lungs, pausing for a beat before following him. Marcus swivels around like he’s realized he’s acting like a pig and grabs the door handle in the same beat I push it open. His glare is weighted and heavy on my skin.
He strides beside me, slowing his steps to accommodate my mincing stride. My feet are killing me. But the moment he unlocks the front door, he’s gone, disappearing into the darkness like the shadows in the front hallway have reached up to swallow him whole.
“Marcus, wait.”
I follow him inside, and my heels echo, a beating click like a heart. The rhythm falters, but he doesn’t slow, heading into the living room. Whatever his agitation, this isn’t what we need between us. It will make going forward uncomfortable and out of control in a way I can’t handle.
“Marcus, talk to me. Do you want me to apologize for the dress?”
Is it because I didn’t do exactly what he wanted me to do?
In the next beat, he launches himself at me. He snakes his hand around the back of my neck and maneuvers us seamlessly, pressing my spine into the wall. Caging me with his body, he arches his hips against mine to pin me in place. He slides his opposite hand down my chest, my ribcage, pausing at the dip of my waist. After securing my wrist in his grip, he drags my arm above my head with such purposeful slowness I lose the air in my lungs. My stomach goes tight, and heat pools between my legs in an instant.
The look in his eyes—
They’ve darkened to onyx when they meet mine. He grabs my other wrist and adds it to the one above my head, forcing my breasts to push against his chest.
He draws his nose along the side of my face. “Do you fucking get it?” he growls. “You belong to me. And no one else. No one should ever look at you the way that boy did because you’re mine . Only mine.”