Page 26 of All That Glitters

“Don’t worry.” River notes my sigh and pushes her own mug closer. “We’ll share.”

Embarrassment colors my insides at the thought of making a big deal about the mistake and, rather than speak up, rather than draw attention, I smile and nod. “Thanks.”

TEN

Three days have gone by since the contract arrived and Empire signed it woodenly, her face giving nothing away. Three days since I’d brought her to orgasm, and neither one of us have been willing to talk about it.

What is there to say?

Not a damn thing if it’s a one and done incident.

It’s better for us both to stick to the real nature of this relationship between us: business. I’m her manager, her guardian. It’s up to me to make sure she’s taken care of as an actress, not to make sure she’s well pleasured.

The couriers delivered the contract right on time, too.

Rather than continue to avoid each other, doing the stranger dance in a mansion large enough to comfortably fit a family of sixteen, I forced her to sit down with me at the dining room table, going over the contract line by line to make sure Empire understands what will be demanded of her with the role and the concessions I’ve fought for. More money, reduced hours…luxuries not often afforded to first time actresses.

Never afforded them because they had other managers who weren’t looking out for their well-being.

Instead, she stared at the words blank faced. She nodded when appropriate and limited the conversation to yes or no. The interaction left me feeling like a miserable bastard and acting worse.

I growled at her when I suggested ordering Chinese food for dinner and she chose instead to hole up in her room and pick at leftovers.

In the morning, I purposely refused to make her coffee so she, with her back turned, fixed herself a matcha tea with almond milk.

I didn’t expect her to jump for fucking joy at the terms of the contract, but a little gratitude would have been nice. I’d bumped her up from low six figures to closer to seven for the role, which was great, considering she’d never done anything else in her life.

Sure, the demands added a bit of pressure to her in terms of her future performance, but I had a few extra things written into her contract to make sure she isn’t overworked. There wouldn’t be twenty-hour days for her. Not on her first film.

I stand at the living room window, staring out at the gardens like the answers are somewhere hidden in the topiary.

The girl has been studiously ignoring me.

If she puts half as much effort into the role of Alicia, then she’ll be in line for a damn Oscar. She’s gone out of her way to not stay in her room but makes sure no matter where I am in the house, she’s not in the same space.

I’m on my second espresso of the day, my insides jittery and a shit ton of work ahead, wondering if I’ve pushed the line too far with her and should apologize for being a horny dickhead.

One of us has to crack first.

I flash my teeth, and my reflection shows it. I’ve never been the kind of man to crack, never been the one to cave in unless there is no other choice. And damn it, if I were ten years younger, I might see just how long the silence will last between the two of us, just to push back, to be selfish and force Empire to be the one to crack first.

I’m in my fucking forties. I’m not a child anymore.

Time to put an end to the bullshit, because I want her to be comfortable here, but it’s my house too. I refuse to tiptoe on eggshells anymore.

“Dammit.” My hand curls into fists at my side and my stomach hollows out.

Diplomacy is an artform, and I’m too tense for my own good. Being blunt serves its purposes well and gets the job done, where beating around the bush rarely accomplishes anything. I stalk down the hallway and find the door to her room ajar. Blinking in surprise at the mess, at the fact that she’s not closeted in the space as she’s been so often lately, I turn on my heel, ready to call out to her. A soft feminine voice filters through the open.

Ah ha.

Today, she’s in the den listening to music on a pair of discrete white headphones tucked into the curves of her ears. I stand in front of her for a full minute, waiting to see if she notices me before she even bothers to look up. And when she does, I snap my fingers in front of her face. Take off the damn headphones. I watch her blink and come back to herself long enough to scowl at me.

“What do you want, Marcus?” she asks overly loud, still blasting her music.

“Take them off.” I swoop my finger in a circle near my ear before she gets the message and takes them off with a petulant sigh, as though I am the literal worst piece of human garbage for bothering her while she’s working.

At least the ire is better than ambivalence. I can work with this. For some reason, having Empire ignore me is worse than a screaming match.

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