Page 31 of Fool's Gold

The fucking bitch knew exactly what she was doing by showing up when she did.

Of course the set is watched. Stanic isn’t a fool, and neither was Parker. They’d done the same song and dance for years after I left the scene. Without personally firing every single one of them, which is impossible to do, then I’ve got to keep my wits about me and not do anything stupid.

Like the shit I pulled today.

“What did you hear?” I ask her in an undertone.

On my couch, Celeste carefully shifts one leg over the other in a sinuous motion designed to grab the eye. “It’s more like what I saw. Our leading man is an absolute mess. You must have realized what you were doing. We expect better of you.”

I expect better of me as well.

“I bet he ran right to you and cried, didn’t he?”

“Oh, he’s not one of ours.” Celeste waves her hand flippantly. “Although there are plenty of people watching to make sure this is orchestrated the way we want.”

“It’s so easy for you to say it,” I reply with a sneer. “We. Like you and Stanic are close.” I loop my index around my middle finger.

“Let’s shift the attention back where it belongs. You and your shitty attitude.”

I hold my hands up on either side of my head. “I’m not going to debase myself by telling you he asked for it. If you want to admonish someone, why don’t you chew Greg’s ear? And never fucking surprise me at home again.”

Watching him take advantage of the situation and touch Empire that way—

I glance to the left, and I know Empire is anywhere but in her room being a good girl. I’d bet every last cent to my name she’s still in the hallway listening to us. Annoyance buzzes in my veins.

I don’t need someone else failing to follow through on my instructions.

Celeste catches the way my eyes automatically trail after Empire, and she scoffs. “Honestly, Marcus.” She purrs out my name. In the next moment, she’s on her feet and crossing the room to me.

The air goes tight, congealing in my lungs.

She stops with inches to spare, close enough for me to see every pristine hair of her perfect eyebrows, and runs a perfectly manicured hand down my chest. “Why don’t you want a real woman instead of a little girl? You’d have a much better experience with a partner who knows how hard you like to play and can match you.”

I don’t touch Celeste. I can hardly move a muscle, every part of me straining against the way she presses closer. Within seconds she’s got her tits against my chest and her pelvis arching to bring it into contact with mine.

I’m not backing up. Not when I know it will give her the satisfaction she’s seeking.

“You have no idea what kind of play I like,” I tell her.

“Don’t I?”

“If you did, you’d think twice before offering yourself.” My features twist in a sneer. It’s much easier to let these emotions show, the dark shit.

Disgust, disrespect. Anything except the D Celeste is really aiming for because I know what this is about. A power play.

I grit my teeth, grinding the back molars where she can’t see my reaction, and let Celeste paw me. If her hand drops below the belt, if talk breaks down, then I’ll cross that bridge.

“If you knew what kinds of things I’m into, you’d give me a safe word.” Instead of being deterred, Celeste lifts up on the tip of her toes and nips my lower lip. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”

“Do about it? Not a fucking thing.”

“Oh, come on. I know your type,” she protests saucily.

I grimace. “And I know yours.” Too many times to count.

Once, I might have even considered them my kryptonite, until Olivia. Until a relatively unknown actress took a chance on me, and together, we ruled the world. I thought I’d loved Olivia Stone, and I’d envied the happiness she and Bennett possessed.

Their perfect little family amid the blazing lights of Hollywood, where the glitter of gold is mostly fake and so are the tits.

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