Page 58 of Fool's Gold

“And Stanic couldn’t come talk to me himself?”

“He has bigger issues than you. Which is why he’s dispatched me. You’ll do as we say, or these pictures will find their way to every single media outlet in this area and across the United States.” She pauses. “Is that what you want?”

Fury is a poison inside me, but what the fuck choice do I have? None. They’ve maneuvered me into a corner and used the only leverage that will make a difference. Her. I couldn’t give a shit about me. If they wanted to leak pictures of me like a porn star, then by all means. But this?

“Fine,” I reply through gritted teeth. “I’ll do what I can to rush things along.”

Shooting her, getting rid of her, is the only thing I want.

“Remember, if something happens to me, it will all come crashing down around you.” Celeste hops off the desk.

“You read minds now?”

She doesn’t look back, only swishes her ass on the way to the door, the fabric of her leather skirt tight enough for me to see every curve. “Who knows? Maybe I can. Maybe not. Do you really want to risk it?”

My fingers itch toward the piece I’ve got hidden underneath one of the drawers for easy access. If I risk it, they hurt Empire.

If I pull the trigger, they’ll do more than physically hurt her, although surely that will come, too. Stanic specializes in mental and emotional torture. He’ll break her down into tiny pieces before he goes for the throat.

“So I thought,” Celeste continues with a wink. “You might think you’re still the man from the streets, Marcus, but there isn’t enough of him in you to disobey.”

No, there isn’t. I worked too damn hard for the old Marcus to return, to put everyone in jeopardy and burn the world around him to the ground.

This time, they’ve got me shackled and chained down. Because I’m not willing to risk her.

NINETEEN

The shooting schedule has gone from manageable to outright chaos.

The rest of the crew, those I’ve spoken to, are ready for anarchy. The under-the-breath whispers between the assistants and the camera crew are loud enough for me to catch, and pretending to ignore them is the real role of my lifetime.

I’m ready to get this movie in the rearview mirror and finish it. Fuck the release parties and fuck the promos that will come along with its completion.

Fuck everything because the worst part of this has been Marcus breathing down my neck the entire time. He’s gone from cold and dismissive to a full-on tyrant.

I’ve hated every second of filming since that day in the house when he called off our relationship.

What relationship? The snide voice in my head is right, no matter how sick it makes me.

“I’m taking a break. I can’t keep working like this.” Staring at the floor, I push past him, and he crowds me against the side of the couch.

This set has become my prison. The hours have gotten insanely long, and whatever sleep I get is tormented by the same cruel monster who haunts me when I’m awake. I see his face everywhere with no reprieve.

“We don’t have time for you to take a break,” Marcus snaps, tearing after me. “We’re resetting for the scene.”

“Five minutes.”

Will tearing my hair out finally convince him I’m at my end? Breaking point, hell, this is worse.

“Five minutes, and I’m counting down,” he says like I should be grateful.

Grateful for whatever scraps he tosses me. Does Marcus expect me to start heeling when he snaps his fingers, too?

Or actually like the feeling of the leash?

The bastard literally presses his Apple watch and sets a timer. And this time, I have no doubt there will be serious consequences if I go even a second over.

You really are the monster you say you are.

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