Chapter 8
Taio
My brain is sending emergency alerts to every nerve ending—slam the door, change your name, flee the country—but I swallow hard and wave Sage into my apartment with all the enthusiasm of a man inviting in a tax auditor.
She crosses the threshold like she’s entering a crime scene, carefully assessing and cataloging every detail for future evidence.
Her eyes sweep across the cramped living room, lingering on the secondhand couch with its suspicious stains, the coffee table propped up by a Stephen King paperback, my dog-eared romance book with the pink flowers I forgot to hide, and the general ambiance of “man who has given up on impressing anyone.”
From his perch on the kitchen counter, Black Cat arches his back at the sight of Sage, releasing a hiss that is undoubtedly full of cat cuss words.
I gesture toward the kitchen counter. “Meet Black Cat. Don’t take the hissing personally—this is him being sociable.”
Sage’s eyebrow arches. “You actually named your cat…Black Cat? Seems lazy.” She unsubtly glances around my moderately tidy, could-be-worse apartment.
“It’s not lazy. It’s quantum physics. Until I give him a real name, he exists in a state of both being and not being my cat.” I shrug. “You know…like Schrodinger’s cat.”
“I don’t think that’s what Schrodinger’s cat represents.” The words drip with judgment.
“Fair enough.” My smile feels tight across my face. “Drink? I should warn you”—I retreat toward the kitchen, grateful for the excuse to put furniture between us—“my options are limited to…”
I open the fridge and face my barren food desert—a half-empty Tampico jug and three beers huddled together like the last survivors of the apocalypse.
A single slice of American cheese curls at the edges like it’s trying to escape the Tupperware container that I’ve been afraid to open since Forrest moved out. I sigh.
“If you’re feeling nutritious, I have orange juice, or beer if you prefer?”
Sage peers around me at the fridge’s sad offerings. Her expression somehow manages to convey disgust without moving a single muscle. “You’re calling Tampico, orange juice? And nutritious?”
“It has vitamin C.”
“It has corn syrup and delusion.” She straightens. “Water, please.”
“Excellent choice.” I grab a glass from the cabinet—the only one without a chip. “Would you like tap, or tap?”
Her smile is tight-lipped. “Surprise me.”
I fill the glass and hand it to her. She accepts it like I’m offering her a biohazard sample, holding it with two fingers as far from her silk blouse as possible.
We move to the living room. I drop onto my couch—the one that sags in the middle like a defeated sigh—while Sage perches on the very edge of the armchair across from me, knees pressed together, posture immaculate.
She looks like a woman who’s never touched a piece of furniture that cost less than four figures.
“How can I help you?” I ask. “And also, how did you find me, stalker?”
Sage doesn’t answer. Instead, her eyes narrow to slits, and I watch her entire demeanor shift from “reluctantly tolerating this situation” to “about to verbally eviscerate you.”
“Let’s talk about you first,” she says.
“Okay, what exactly do you want to know about me?”
Her eyes grow wide. “Oh, I already know everything about you, Taio,” she says in almost a hiss.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I return her scowl.
“It means this adorable little accidental meet-cute story that Charlie concocted to protect you for some unapparent reason? I’m.
Not. Buying. It. So I did some research.
And I dug up every single piece of dirt you and your family were trying to bury.
A prior prince of New York, his family worth tens of millions, and then poof.
” Sage claps her hands together. “Turns out your wealth was stolen, your dad’s a felon, your mom ditched her married name and moved out of the country, leaving you here to live like…
” She gestures around my sad apartment. “This.”
“Careful,” I warn.
“Oh, I get it. I believe all the articles that said you and your mom were none the wiser. Honestly, Taio—it was a shitty situation and I’m sorry.
But no way being an escort is paying all those legal fees.
No way you have enough to pull yourself out of bankruptcy.
Seems like all your problems could be solved by blackmailing…
oh, I don’t know—a pop star arguably worth nine figures? ”
“Blackmail?” I balk. “What the hell?”
Sage uncrosses her arms and leans forward, her index finger directed at my head. “I already know who you are, Taio. Now, I need to know what you want. What you’re planning.”
Each word lands like a punch. I feel my jaw tighten, but she’s not done.
“Let me be clear—Charlie Riley is not my daughter, but she might as well be. Because I am the mama bear that will rip you to shreds if you try to hurt our girl. She’s innocent.
Not just of this bubbling scandal, but Charlie is innocent.
She’s probably the only young twenty-some in the industry who isn’t snorting lines or shooting up on ketamine.
She doesn’t party or sleep around. She cares deeply about her craft, legacy, family, and all of the people she loves.
You’re hand-plucking the petals of the most beautiful, delicate flower.
” Sage lowers her gaze, swaying her head side to side, suddenly overcome by emotion.
“She’s been through enough. Pick someone else.
Anyone else. Someone more resilient. She’s not prepared to play your stupid games and win your stupid prizes. ”
“You done?” My nostrils flare as I try to control my ragged breathing.
“Not yet,” Sage continues, her voice dropping to something even more vile.
“If you come after her reputation, we’ll come after yours.
And we’re so much better at it, let me assure you of that.
I will destroy you. Not threaten. Not warn.
Destroy. There won’t be enough left of your reputation to fill a thimble.
We’ll come after you for extortion, harassment, trespassing, whatever it takes to throw you in a cell right next to your father. ”
I’m on my feet before I realize I’ve moved. “Get out.”
Sage blinks. It’s the first time I’ve seen her look surprised.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I point to the door. “We’re done.
Meager as it may be, this is my home. You’re not going to walk into my own home and insult me like this with your false threats and blatant lies.
Tell Charlie, despite the unfathomably unpleasant company she keeps, our pact still stands.
Her secrets are safe with me. Now, get out. ”
“What secrets?” Sage asks, the sharp edges suddenly gone from her voice.
“Well, if I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets anymore, would they?”
She rises, then lets out a deep exhale. Instead of moving to the front door like I suggested, she settles into the sofa chair, making herself comfortable.
“I asked you what you wanted, and I didn’t give you a chance to answer.
I’m sorry. It’s been a very stressful couple days for all of us. Charlie especially.”
Finally allowed to speak, the question on my mind barrels out like a river breaking through a dam. “How is she doing?”
“You’re worried about her?”
“Well, I caused this, right? I mean that hug was the extent of it. Charlie and I didn’t…
Even if they find out who I am and what I do, I can honestly say Charlie never hired me.
If I need to make a public statement, I will.
” Or, at least I didn’t let her hire me, but we can keep that tidbit out of the media.
Sage doesn’t move. She studies me for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
“You’d do that? There’d be implications.
You know that much attention would have law enforcement looking into your client history, just to make an example out of you.
Everybody who gets close to Charlie falls under extreme scrutiny. It’s why she prefers to be alone.”
I shrug. “I’m nearly at rock bottom. What’s dropping one more foot, you know? If it helps her, I’ll do it.”
Something shifts in Sage’s face. The attack-dog posture softens, just slightly.
She looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time—not as a threat to be neutralized, but as an actual person.
“She won’t get out of bed,” Sage admits.
“She’s still here in New York, still in that penthouse, afraid to leave.
Yesterday there was a small mob outside of the hotel with signs.
The internet is demanding a public apology.
They want her to grovel, to admit she’s a cheater, to confirm every terrible thing they’ve decided she is.
” She pauses. “Except they don’t know the truth. ”
“Even the truth isn’t the truth,” I say, lowering myself back onto the couch. “Her relationship with Grayson—that’s fake too. A PR scheme. One you cooked up, I’m guessing.”
Sage doesn’t deny it. “That’s how this industry works. Narrative is everything. Truth is whatever we can sell.”
“And right now you can’t sell anything that helps her?”
“I had an idea yesterday, but I thought I’d be confronting a slimy escort with blackmail and extortion on his heart. I had no idea you’d be such a…”
I narrow my eyes. “Such a what?”
“Simp,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “And the insults continue,” I say through gritted teeth.
“No, I meant it in a good way. You could be a real asshole, but instead you want to help? I—”
“Should maybe stop assuming everybody is the enemy?” I jump in.
“Taio—when it comes to fame? Everybody is the enemy. Until they’re not. So, you really want to help? Because that idea I mentioned…”
“All right, I’m all ears. Let’s hear it.”
She reaches into her briefcase and pulls out a stack of papers, sliding them across the coffee table toward me.
“What’s this?”
“An employment contract.” She taps the top page. “Effective five weeks ago. It says you were hired as Charlie Riley’s personal bodyguard.”