Chapter 30
Empire is gone by the time I make it back to the house.
Not that I expected her to wait for me. If the roles were reversed, and I was the one finding out about the dissolution of the guardianship, I’d be livid. More than likely, any anger on her part is a mask for more grief, more betrayal, the only thing I’m good for.
It’s odd not to see her car in the driveway. There’s nothing but the slight push of wind through the foliage when I get out and stand. Too quiet. My thoughts are obnoxiously loud in comparison.
The key slides into the lock easily, but the door swings open on silent hinges, unlocked. The rest of the interior is a yawning and shadowed cave instead of the home it had started to become.
She’s not there. I can feel it.
And those texts are going to stay unanswered, because there is no way on God’s green Earth she’ll want to talk to me now, not if she has completely taken off without a word.
Too late.
I’d gotten back too late.
“Empire?” My voice echoes back to me, hollow and tired.
I press my hand to my chest against a physical ache and finally step inside the house, closing the door behind me. It’s for the best, I reason. The more distance we have between us, the better it will be for everyone involved, no matter how it makes me feel.
She’s much safer without me.
No matter how badly my fingers itch to grab my phone and text her one more time. Call her. Beg her to come back and let me explain.
I hadn’t meant to sign the papers. In fact, I thought about using the contract as an excuse so many times, just to force her to stay with me. Then, I signed the papers out of spite. I might not have filed them, but my signature was bold and legal, and now she knows it.
She just doesn’t know my reasons.
I scrape a hand down the side of my face before slapping myself hard, once on each cheek. Honestly, there would be no way to salvage any romantic attachments once I go in deeper with Stanic and his crew.
The things I’ll have to do, what I’ll have to live through…
Better this way.I have to let her go.
I drop my keys in the bowl on one of the long tables in the foyer, and the clang echoes through the house. I have to let her go and trust she’ll be safe without me there to watch over her every move. I’ll—shit, I’ll have Sherry hire a couple of bodyguards to tail Empire and make sure no one comes near her, especially me.
The kitchen looks like it’s been ransacked, the entire mansion devoid of life already. I have no idea how long she’s been gone, but there’s a physical presence lacking. A vitality, so much more so than when her parents died.
It’s useless to call out for her again.
Useless, and I still find my lips forming her name, although no sound escapes.
It’s not like we could have been anything anyway. It doesn’t matter how many dreams I’ve had where the two of us make a go of it, dreams of a future where luck finally twists in my favor and I get the happy ending I’ve always wanted but never trusted myself to speak out loud.
Me and her. As if she’d be content with a grumpy old bastard like me.
Pipe dreams are useless.
I can’t stop myself from walking down the hall toward her room and checking it. I notice the drawers pulled out and the closet doors open where she’d ransacked them in a hurry. Oh yeah, she’s not happy. Wherever she is, wherever she’s going, she’s hurt and she has every right to it.
Disappointment burns in my veins, even though I knew what to expect.
The bed is unmade, but the sheets aren’t as tangled as I”ve seen them in the past. Did she sleep well last night? Had I missed her screams, or had there been none?
What did she think when she woke up to find me gone? Another betrayal. I add it to my mental list, even though there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to make up for all of it.
I’m worse than a bad man. I’m a piece of shit, and I deserve every bad thing that’s coming my way.
I killed a man in front of her.
What kind of sick asshole does that?
How can I expect her to understand that I did what I did for her?
If losing her is the cost of her safety, then I can’t regret a single step. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, even if Parker hadn’t had it coming. What wouldn’t I do for Empire Stone?
I’d even sell my own soul.
Shoulders slumping forward, I head to the office without seeing anything in front of me. The stench of bleach hits me hard. I pulled on a couple of strings last night and had several guys I’ve worked come to do a deep clean during the night.
The interior has been scrubbed thanks to my minions. Blood and guts have never bothered me, and yet the thought of sullying this space sits wrong. I’m too used to it, I think as I sink into the chair, to even give a shit at this point.
But I know my guys and the quality of work they’ve done in the past. Seems their standards haven’t slipped a bit. If they’d been surprised to hear from me, they never said a word.
For a long moment, I stare at the wall with my hands laced together in front of me, getting my thoughts in order.
Empire is gone. She’s entitled to her space, but I need to make sure she understands that she is still contractually obligated to finish filming for Wretched. There’s no choice. Hopefully, we’ll be able to work out a compromise where I leave her alone on sets and we handle all communication through email.
In a professional way. As her manager and… “agent.”
We crossed the line so long ago, there is nothing left of it at this point. Still, this film is important for both our sakes. If everything goes according to plan, she should be able to finish filming in the next few months, and then she’ll truly be free of me, without any strings attached.
I’ll move out of the house so she feels comfortable coming back here. It’s her parents’ place, after all. I moved in to make the adjustment a bit easier for her, so she’d feel less alone.
I’ve still got my bachelor pad in the city. Going back won’t be a problem, and she gets her home to herself again. I crack my fingers one by one, listening to them pop as the laptop boots up. That’s what things have become between us. No more heat, no more life. No more holding myself back. Only an email, from one professional to another.
The headache isn’t going away, but at least it’s not getting any worse. A small blessing.
My meeting with Stanic this morning feels like it happened years ago instead of hours.
Once the laptop lights up, I log into my email and groan, shoving aside my feelings for Empire to focus solely on the facts of business. Her obligations and mine, a way to word it so she knows she can come home and won’t have to see me.
I wouldn’t want to look at my face either.
“Marcus Ortega, you are a waste of human space,” I tell my distorted reflection on the screen.
No argument.
The second my email loads, row after row of messages flood the inbox, each of them from different news outlets. The alerts I’d set to let me know whenever Empire’s name came up in media headlines did the trick, but never in my life did I think I’d find fifty plus messages.
“What in the world…”
I click on the first one, and bile rises in my throat.
Hollywood’s Hottest Agent Stoops to Near Statutory Rape: Details Inside the Torrid Affair
Empire Stone Taken Advantage of by Much Older Friend of the Family.
The New Normal: Young Actresses, Their Managers, and Sexual Assault.
My eyes bulge out of my skull at row after row of similar headlines, and those are mild in comparison to some of the others. What in the fucking world is happening? When did these news outlets all decide to land on the same story?
All of the emails claim to have insider details about an affair between me and Empire. Some of them have pictures attached to the story, ones snapped from past parties at this very house and added to make the information inside look even more shady.
My heart stops, skips a beat, and thuds into an erratic rhythm as I slowly click through each one.
I land on a story with a picture from one of our old pool parties. I’m handing off a drink to Empire, who’s clad in a black bikini only a teenager can pull off, her mouth tilted in a mischievous grin, a lecherous heat in my eyes. It was one of those rare moments where I’d let the wall slip, let my intentions show. And in this case, I look like a predator about to pounce.
My stomach dips sickeningly.
No, no. This isn’t right. None of this is accurate. How in the world did all these news outlets get their hands on our old photos? Why would they choose now to release them? At the same time.
Email after email speaks about the supposed affair with quotes from “Empire” that I know she would never say.
“He used to take me aside when my parents were distracted and touch me,” I read out loud. “It started when I was thirteen.”
I click the next article with bile rising up to scorch the back of my throat. I taste acid on my tongue, and the rest of me breaks out into queasy goosebumps.
“Marcus Ortega is nothing but a predator. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are half a dozen other women out there terrorized by him and his greed.” That article claims to have had a source close to Empire reach out, although they wish to remain anonymous.
None of them were any better or any more forgiving.
They’ve all been published in the last fifteen minutes.
Who the hell would have done something like this? It’s worse than a leak to the press because it’s not fucking true on any level. No matter how angry Empire is at me, there is no way she’d have lied. Not to mention, it would have taken time to reach out to each of these news outlets.
They have no idea how badly I wanted to fuck her, how hard it has been to keep her a virgin.
“Marcus took advantage of me for years, seducing me whenever my parents were out of town,” one of the quotes claims.
I ball my hand into a fist and slam the laptop shut hard enough to crack it.
Well…I’d hoped to make this as clean of a break as possible, for her sake, but I’ve got to get this fixed before her career is ruined, along with mine. These are the first round of articles, but how many more will come out to hammer at her reputation?
Too many. It’s inevitable.
And if she doesn’t finish making this movie, then none of it matters. Stanic Maxim will take us both out if we renege on our respective deals.
Ice fills my torso.
I’ve got to find Empire, immediately.
Hurt feelings or not, this goes beyond a few legal papers, beyond some doctored pictures.
This is life or death.