Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
W e’ve got the premiere in two days.
Details for the event have kept me sequestered in my office with my cell permanently attached to the side of my head since filming wrapped. The outside world disappears into the periphery, another distraction.
My office has turned into a fucking pigsty without Sherry here to practically beat my ass for me. I haven’t allowed the cleaning crew to step through the doors.
I go from my tiny little office at the studio to my one downtown, transferring one dull set of four walls for something with a view. Even the view doesn’t help me get the details figured out. Between marketing and distribution, I’m creatively tapped out.
Once this is done, I’m taking at least a week of vacation, and no one is going to stop me.
A vacation that would be made a hell of a lot better on a beach somewhere with a basically naked Empire on my lap and a cold drink in my hand. The image is strong enough to make my cock throb.
I lean back in the chair far enough to get the front two wheels off the ground, teetering precariously. One more call, and then I’m breaking for lunch.
My stomach gives an ominous rumble the second I acknowledge its emptiness.
Olivia used to send me little snacks during the day, always by courier or meal delivery service, and always unexpected. She knew exactly what I liked and had worked with me long enough to memorize my schedule of overwork.
All work and no play makes Marcus a piece of shit .
I glance at the door, almost expecting it to open and a delivery person to hold out a greasy bag of burgers and fries. Enough to keep me going through the day.
I’d loved Olivia in a way I had no business loving her. Bennett was my best friend, and I respected both of them far too much to ever say anything about my feelings.
Then came Empire. Growing, beautiful even as a child, and her laughter was like the first breath of spring. As she came of age, I looked sideways at her more than I should have.
The unimaginable happened, and we lost them, her parents and my best friends, the universe granting me a boon and a burden at the same time: a guardianship. The object of my desire close enough for me to taste her.
An email alert pings on my laptop. Rather than ignoring it, as I’ve done for the past several days, I click to bring up the screen.
The second I recognize the name, a groan rips through my throat and my head drops back hard enough to hit the chair. Fucking Brian from the LA Times . At least he paid attention to my threats. He’s tapped me as his private source of knowledge, and any article he writes about Empire since the day he called has been attached to an email and sent to me before it goes to press.
This one, I’m dismayed to see, comes with a photo.
Dread numbs the tips of my fingers as I click on the email, the attachment popping up in devilish color. Empire and Jacob stand side by side, her delicate frame dwarfed by his much larger one when she’s no doubt wearing her normal flip-flops rather than heels. Her arm is looped through his elbow, and her hand rests demurely on his forearm.
No, not rests. Her knuckles are white, and her nails curve against his skin. Anxiety .
Her eyes are covered by a pair of vintage sunglasses, but her cheeks are pulled tight and her lips are thin despite her smile. Jacob, on the other hand, is all grins and peaches and fucking cream. Looking like the tanned, golden-boy poster child for a surfing competition as he panders to the crowd.
The commentary beneath the picture says, “New couple Jacob Kessler and Empire Stone caught on their way out of the studio after signing a mega deal together.”
Vomit churns in my gut, rising and scalding my esophagus on its way up. I clamp down on it before slamming the laptop shut and pushing it away.
It’s bad enough that my mind torments me. I don’t need an actual reminder of Empire moving on. The way I want her to move on. The way she needs to, deserves to, all that garbage.
I’d just rather not see it.
On second thought, I silence notifications because if Brian, or any one of his cohorts, managed to snap a picture of the new couple , then surely other news outlets have as well, and the image will be splashed across social media in a matter of hours.
I grab my cell and dial the number programmed into my contacts. I have no idea how Stanic managed it, but Celeste is right there at the top of my list of favorites.
The call goes through and rings once before she picks up, silence on the other end for a heartbeat.
“Marcus.” My name on her lips is loaded, dripping with innuendo.
“The premiere is in two days,” I start without pretense. “It’s going to be a big show. Once it’s done, Empire is out for good. I want your word.”
Another long pause, and then, “What are you proposing to do should I not give my word?”
My jaw clenches. “I want all the extra footage from your little undercover operation,” I continue as though she hadn’t said anything. “Any pictures, all of it. Anything that can be used against her in the future.”
“You are quite demanding today.”
I push out of the chair before I topple over, striding toward the window.
The scene below is the same one I’ve stared down on for years, since I had enough money to purchase the space from the developer, back when Bennett and Olivia had been the only clients willing to take a chance on an upstart. I’d been a good manager for them.
I tried to be a good manager to every single actor and actress I’ve taken on.
Where did I go wrong?
You know where .
The second I started lusting after Bennett’s daughter, I stepped off the path I set up for myself. And fucking her? I went straight off the path into the bowels of hell, and I deserve every second of eternal torture I fucking get.
“I’m demanding every single day. I want the pictures, footage, any evidence you’ve acquired, along with the backups, delivered to my office before the premiere,” I say harshly.
“What will you give me in return?” Celeste asks.
“Finishing the production on your timeline wasn’t enough for you? You greedy bitch.”
She only laughs. “I might be a greedy bitch, but the production schedule was not for me, you’re mistaken there. It was for Stanic. You did your job because you had to. The pictures were my insurance, a way to cover my own ass.”
I grind my teeth. Always angling. There is never a clear exit with these people.
In the beginning, I counted myself lucky for dealing with Celeste rather than Stanic himself. Outside of the first time he came to my office for a meeting, I haven’t seen him. Every word was passed down from him to his right-hand woman in some kind of bizarre trickle-down effect.
“I’ll give you what you’ve always wanted. Me.” It has to be enough. “It’s the one bargaining chip I’ve kept off the table, and I’m willing to put myself into play if you’re willing to deliver your evidence.”
For all I know, Celeste will take morbid delight in rejecting me after making her intentions clear this entire time. Mind games are not only appreciated but encouraged among the Mafia, Stanic’s crew in particular.
“Empire is safe, and you get me,” I finish. There is nothing else for me to offer.
Money won’t make a difference.
Celeste’s snickers cut off abruptly. “You would whore yourself for the girl? Hmmm. What an interesting turn of events.”
At least she’s considering it.
“Delivered to my office before the premiere. Then I’m at your disposal,” I reiterate. “However you want to use me.” Pain or pleasure or both. It doesn’t matter.
“You may want to consider your terms. There are many possibilities when you open the door to whatever I want.”
Her husky voice makes me flinch. “I know.”
“You’d willingly open yourself up to it?” she pauses and chuckles. “If you only knew the kinds of things I enjoy…”
The way she trails off conjures the image of all kinds of less-than-savory acts of submission. “I know.”
“Then it’s a deal,” she agrees eagerly.
Relief cascades like icy water through my system. I can do this for Empire. If nothing else, I can make sure she’s safe from me by cutting every string between us. There will be no more ties once this happens, and that means I’ll have finally done right by her. Done my job, fulfilled the wishes of her parents when they mistakenly made me her guardian.
It doesn’t matter what happens to me. She’ll be free and safe, and they’ll finally get me.
“You’ll get your evidence, Marcus. Just make sure you’re ready for me when I come calling.” Celeste hangs up on me, and I’m tempted to throw the phone across the room.
Fat load of fucking good it will do. Besides, there are more things to do, and operating without a phone will only bite me in the ass.
The crowded streets with lines of cars inching toward their all-important destinations go on no matter what I say.
The last thing I want to do is fuck Celeste. I’d rather stick my dick in a wood chipper and let it go to town, especially when the last pussy I had was Empire’s. I’d rather swan dive out of this office into oncoming traffic.
I’m going to have to get my shit together. My dick has to perform like a goddamn circus monkey. Trapped by words instead of ropes.
Jaw clenched, I squeeze my eyes shut, the memory of Empire writhing beneath me filling my mind. Her body, naked from the waist down, and my dick sliding between her ass cheeks with every punishing stroke.
The way I brought my hands over her warm flesh and squeezed, unable to slap her ass for fear of making too much noise.
The scent of us together—
The hot memories are so damn vivid my cock jumps, my erection pressing against the inside of my boxers. Eager and hungry for her in a way it’s never reacted to anyone else.
The way it never will again.
I slam my palm against the glass, reaching with the other for the zipper on my pants. There’s no one around to see me pull my cock out and grip it hard enough to cause a flash of pain. The pain is an aphrodisiac. I pump the shaft frantically, holding the image of Empire in my mind. Remember those keening sounds she makes when she’s not forced into silence, the way she wails out my name every time I fill her. The way her pussy clenches around me—so much better than my hand.
Her scent is amazing, the feeling of her skin gliding across mine. She’s the only woman I want, and somehow, I’m going to have to attempt to fuck someone else—
I open my eyes to the traffic below and work my cock, squeezing the head as sensation builds and my balls go tight.
The orgasm rips through me, and I turn in time to avoid the window. Hot ropes of cum arch to the floor, and I grunt as I palm myself through the last of it.
“Fuck.” I release my spent dick punishingly, glaring at the cum.
Never again. I’ll never be able to cum inside Empire again. The sooner I accept reality, the better for everyone.