Page 53 of All That Glitters

TWENTY

Iglance at the clock for the thousandth time, wondering how long is too long to go without talking to Empire or acknowledging her in general. Five days have gone by since I buried my head between her legs rather than my cock, and instead of acting like it was no big deal, I’d growled out a threat—you can’t win—and distracted myself with work.

I pushed it too far.

Way farther than I needed to push things with her, because I hadn’t been able to stop myself, and look where it got us. Two ghosts walking around an already haunted mansion. I’d thrown myself into work the same way I caught her going over the script in all her free time, not to mention the increased social media posts.

I should be happy.

Empire is falling into line, doing what she needs to do for her career. It’s everything I've wanted, everything I’ve scolded her for. Why am I still feeling like a complete piece of shit?

Rather than spend another day circling each other in the house, I booked it downtown before the sun rose, grabbing a cup of coffee from one of the drive-through cafes before I shut myself in the office.

Sherry came and went as she pleased, used to my moods.

I made it through several stacks of work I’d been putting off before the constantly swirling thoughts in my head won out.

“When are you going to stop staring at the window and actually get the paperwork filed for the estate?” Sherry asks for what feels like the thousandth time.

“When I’m good and goddamn ready,” I say easily.

She clucks her tongue. “Must be one hell of a view.”

“I’ve seen better.” And once again, I go right back to thinking about Empire, which only pisses me off.

My life was so much better before we started fucking around, before I started to give serious consideration to tossing her around like a rag doll during sex. I used to be able to manage the urges because she was a teenager budding into womanhood. I’d take one look at her, then to her mother, and laugh those ideas away because they were ludicrous, and it made me worse than a pervert. It made me a loser.

Managing Olivia and her booming career kept me busy, anyway.

And in my free time, I had only to wander into one of the bars or clubs around here and find a willing woman to take home for the night.

No need for anything more.

I had nothing else to give, no time to pursue a long-lasting relationship or offer up steady commitment. I’m not offering it now, either, but I’ve never had another woman bury herself so effectively in my psyche. What will it take to dislodge Empire from her stronghold?

Another part?

More money?

Sherry gets tired of my shit and returns to her desk with a put-out groan. I don’t blame her, either. “You let me know when you’re ready to order lunch. Okay?” she calls out.

I roll my eyes. “Sherry, it’s not even ten thirty. What the fuck are you talking about?’

“Well, I’m hungry! Sorry if it’s on my mind,” she snaps. “I’m thinking of sushi. How about you?”

“I’ll have to let you know,” I concede with a chuckle.

My cell dings from my suit jacket, the distinctive tone of an alert. Ah. So someone must have decided to get her ass out of bed this morning and update her Instagram. At least she’s starting to gain a little more momentum.

I dig for the cell and flick open the screen to check the quality of the content. Yup, I’d say this shows a certain willingness to play ball. Even if it is just a pre-planned post—

The first picture is of Empire in full hair and makeup, making a face for the camera, and captioned: First day on set! Wish me luck!

A bunch of hashtags accompany the pic, and I freeze.

What the hell is this shit? Where is she?

The location is tagged at the studio set, and I flip to my calendar app to check. Okay, yeah, filming is supposed to start on Monday. What is she doing down there in full hair and makeup on Friday?

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