Page 58 of All That Glitters

“I hope you’d approve of the two of us together.” I push to my feet. “If not, I guess there isn’t much you can do, and I wouldn’t want you to. I love him. I’ve always loved him,” I finish. “Here’s hoping he loves me too.”

TWENTY-TWO

Empire took off for the cemetery an hour ago. I’m not sure how long she plans to stay there, drifting wraith-like among the dead, but if it helps her, I’m all for it.

Her parents aren’t underneath those grave markers. At least, I’ve never felt them.

I went once after the funeral to pay my respects and stared down Olivia’s headstone, waiting for something to shift, for some nuggets of sensation to let me know she was there.

Nothing.

Fucking nada.

Though if there’s something waiting for us after death, I highly doubt the spirits would come back to talk to a guy like me.

The doorbell rings, the sound echoing down the hallway toward the office, out of place and loud. Scowling, I push away from the desk and head to answer it when the bell rings, insistent, a second and third time.

“I’m coming,” I call out.

The person on the other side of the door must be pressing their finger to the door, because the bell continues in a steady stream of nagging noise until I pull open the door and stop short.

Parker stands on the front stoop, two massive men in black suits behind him. His face lights in a cold smile when he stares me down.

“Marcus. I’m glad it’s you.” He doesn’t tip his shades down. “We need to talk.”

“What are you doing here?” And why would a call or text not fucking suffice?

“Ah, there you go, not paying attention to me,” he says with a sharp cluck of his tongue. “I already said we need to talk. Is Empire around? Perhaps she needs to be present as well.”

He cranes his head to look over my shoulder, and I take a not-so-subtle step further into the doorway to block him from seeing into the house.

I’m glad she’s gone.

The thought lays on repeat in my head, a never-ending circle, as I stare into Parker’s lens covered eyes.

“There’s nothing else for us to say,” I tell him. “Unless you’ve come to apologize for being a fucking asshole the other day.”

He chuckles dryly. “You want an apology out of me?” He straightens his shoulders and picks a piece of invisible lint off the front of his shirt. “You have a lot of nerve, Ortega. You understand how the business works.”

Parker tries to step around me, and I move with him. “I'm sorry. Perhaps my stance isn't clear enough for you to understand, but you set one foot inside this house, and I’m calling the cops.”

Parker lifts a brow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I will get you thrown out of here for trespassing.”

“Your ward is my star. I highly doubt any threats you make will stick…unless you want to consider this stunt a little bit of payback for what you perceive to be a slight the other day.”

“Perceive?” It’s my turn to laugh, a large ball of granite dropping further into the pit of my stomach the longer we stand and have this conversation. “You took advantage of a young woman with no experience. Try to sell me more of your bullshit and see if I buy it.”

“She was never in any danger,” he replies, staring at his nails. Nonchalant, unbothered. Prick. “She may be inexperienced, but she is perfectly safe on my set.”

His nose is bandaged, lending a nasally quality to his voice. Once again, I wish I’d done more than punch him in the face.

“Without an intimacy coordinator,” I remind him.

I don’t need to see his face to know Parker is rolling his eyes. “You’re still stuck on that. We have more important business to hash out today.”

I tighten my grip on the door jamb. “Hard pass from me.”

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