Page 22 of All That Glitters

Once everything is in place, I end the call and speed dial my own assistant.

“I need to make sure the contract gets printed and sent over by courier for all parties to sign,” I tell Sherry. By now, my cock has deflated. “Right now, they should be sending it through the office email, and I’ve sent you a copy personally to make sure it gets where it needs to go.”

“Is there any doubt it will?” Sherry asks. She’s acerbic in the best possible way and one hell of a find in a world where people don’t want to work. I make sure to pay her exactly what she’s worth, keep her content, and minimize the risk of losing her to someone else.

“I’m double checking,” I groan, scrubbing my eyes with one hand. “Can’t be too careful. Get it handled.”

“You know I will.”

Sherry is the only one who talks to me like she doesn’t give a shit who I am or what I’ve been through; part of the reason I’ve kept her around so long. Not to mention, she’s the most talented multitasker I’ve ever seen in my life.

“And don’t forget, Marcus, you need to file the paperwork for Empire’s trust,” she finishes. “You’ve been putting it off.”

My head immediately feels like it’s splitting down the middle.

In any normal situation, a guardian or caretaker would no longer be legally contracted to watch over their ward once the ward in question turns eighteen. Sure, I got it. Except Olivia and Bennett wrote into their will as a personal request that I care for her until she decides to leave, or until she turns twenty-two. A caveat to the will states that if both Empire and I sign the release form, then she’ll receive her money early, and we can wash our hands of each other.

Only once she signs will she be able to access her entire trust from her family’s estate, not just what her parents left her as an inheritance.

I signed the papers on a bad day, drunk and pissed off at the world. I thought I wanted nothing to do with her. I haven’t been able to bring myself to follow through on it, though, and so I decided to put off having her sign and ride things out until Empire’s twenty-second birthday.

The whole idea leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Not just the situation, but Empire being out there on her own. Alone. Dealing with all the shit herself.

“Don’t worry about the paperwork. I’ll handle it when I’m good and ready,” I reply.

“You sure about that, boss?” Sherry quips. “The estate lawyer called yesterday wondering if the sheets have been signed, and I told him you were getting around to it shortly.”

Of course. There’s always a time limit on these things.

My brows furrow lower, and if I weren’t already in a pissy mood, I’d let everything slide past me. Today, I find myself gritting my teeth and glaring at the computer screen, as though Sherry can actually see my expression.

“Just make sure you use the courier I like and stop trying to save money by hiring kids on bikes.” I hang up, focusing on the screen until the words of the contract blur together.

Empire has no idea about the terms of her trust or what I’ve been asked to do, what she’s been asked to sign. She has no idea that her mother personally pulled me aside to make sure I’d be down for the job. As though I’d ever been able to tell the woman no.

Whatever Olivia Stone wanted, if it was within my power, I’d have given it to her. Now, I feel even worse about fingering Empire. I let my lust and horniness get in the way of everything I’ve stood for, and while it’s never been much, I at least had a small shred of integrity left to me. It’s probably lost now.

Empire thinks I’m a pain in the ass, but she needs me.

I’ll tell her about the paperwork later and deal with the aftermath then. For now, she stays with me, and we pretend the release form doesn’t exist.

I lean back in the chair, wishing I’d stayed away instead of coming back to this godforsaken mansion. I should have moved Empire somewhere else, a little closer to downtown and my office. It might have been more manageable than this mausoleum to our memories.

The double doors in the office lead out to a rear patio area and around the corner, it opens to the backyard. There isn’t much room to roam in the Hollywood Hills, but I remember the parties the Stones used to throw, fucking extravagant wastes of money where their “friends” dressed up in outfits costing more than a used car.

Except Olivia had shone diamond bright in the center of the crowd. Empire stood at her side, just as beautiful as her mother, her features lit by a smile. It’s been a long time since she smiled that way.

I don’t blame her.

Those family dinner parties are a long time gone.

I remember the times she would parade around in one of her mother’s gowns, toddling in shoes way too big for her little feet and making everyone laugh with her antics.

Or, when she got older, how her outfits grew smaller and tighter, with more skin on display. Bennett always got so fucking pissed at his friends, ogling his daughter, and he’d clap me on the shoulder and say, “We’re going to have a lot of trouble with her when she’s older.”

“Get the baseball bats ready,” I’d reply.

I’m the one who needs a bat, straight to my frontal lobe.

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