Page 72 of All That Glitters

Stanic’s gaze sharpens. “Oh? You’d take your largest asset off the table before we even begin negotiations? It seems a wasted move for you, Marcus.”

“What negotiation?” It’s a risk calling him out. “I made myself clear on the phone. She doesn’t want to live the lifestyle of her parents. I thought I’d be able to force her, but I see what this movie is already doing to her. Once filming has finished, she’s out permanently if she decides it.”

“You have the capacity to make her larger than either of her parents,” Stanic says almost conversationally, and I can’t trust a fucking thing. “Parker already told me. The girl has talent. If it’s nurtured correctly, she will be nothing short of a star.”

A money train. That’s what he really means.

“Why beat a horse into doing what I want when there are others who beg me to manage their career?” I force a shrug. “There are other young women out there with just as much talent as she has and one thousand times the willingness. Empire Stone hasn’t been the same since her parents died.”

Another risk to bring up the crash, especially after what Parker said. I wait to see the reaction and find myself up against a brick wall.

Stanic doesn't blink.

He barely moves, although his lips twitch up in a half smile, there and gone in an instant. “Ah, yes. Quite the tragedy, from what I’ve heard. A mechanical malfunction. However.” He pauses. “If you are to be believed about her willingness, then we shall focus your efforts on more lucrative assets. Yes.”

Empire is out.

No matter what else happens, Empire is safe, and that’s the entire point of this deal.

Empire is out, and the phrase repeats like a song inside my head.

“We’re in agreement?” I ask, just to make sure. “You will not pursue her?”

Stanic thrusts out his hand for a shake. “Of course, my friend. You have my word.”

His word means literally nothing.

But I have to take him at face value for now, and I harden my heart. The career of my dreams? Gone. Any chance to be with Empire? Also gone, as though I ever had a chance with her in the first place.

I can’t have both. Fuck, I can’t have either one, especially when my life is about to get even darker than it was.

TWENTY-SEVEN

The night passes, and I miraculously sleep through it, rousing only when the sun beams through the windows without the darkening damper of my curtains. Marcus isn’t here. I didn’t expect him to be, but a part of me…had hoped.

I wanted him to be.

Maybe that’s the kicker of the whole thing.

How nice would it be to wake up and find him still sprawled at my side, protecting me through the night? But the sheets are cold, and I know he’s been gone for a while. I stop, listening for any sounds of life in the house, hearing nothing.

Curling on my side, I scrub my burning eyes, my hair dried into a crazy nest around my face and knotted near the ears.

But no nightmares.

What kind of fucked up twist is that? For the first time in months, after seeing a man shot to death in front of me, I didn’t dream about anything. It’s the kicker of this whole situation.

For the longest moment, I lay on my side.

Eventually, untangling the blanket from around my legs, I head into the bathroom to fix my shit before popping my head out of the room. The house looks the same. Death hasn’t left any new mark on the place at least.

The marble is cold underfoot, and the door to the office closed when I finally force myself to go check. It’s early, but usually Marcus is right to work, and with Parker’s death…surely, he’s got a lot more to do now. Right? But the inside is empty, and there isn’t a hint of blood left anywhere. The room is spotless; the sting of bleach burns the inside of my nose, and I lift my hand to my cheekbone, feeling the splash of hot blood on my skin.

He’s gotten the place cleaned up, hopefully to the point where even a crime scene crew won’t be able to tell what happened here.

I stare at the empty chair, the space on the floor where Parker dropped. The producer’s eyes had been so empty. People wanted to argue about the existence of a soul? I’m not sure if such a thing exists, but I know there was nothing left once he died.

A hollow shell of a man who had been nothing but a selfish prick, happy to embarrass me and make me feel like I’m the one acting crazy, like it’s all part of the business I was too young and naive to understand.

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