Page 64 of Fool's Gold

Another pregnant pause as I let the threat land.

“We here at the Times understand you manage Empire Stone.”

The man has balls, I’ll give him that. My business number is readily accessible to any of the press who want to reach me in my office downtown, but not this number. Did he try the office and get Celeste, who readily handed out private information?

Impossible to say.

“We wondered if you had a comment on Empire and her new boyfriend? Our next piece features her heavily,” Brian continues in my silence. Utterly oblivious to the turmoil inside me.

Her…what? Wait…

I sit up straighter in shock. I expect him to try and pry into her life, to ask about Wretched, but never in my wildest dreams would I think about a boyfriend. When and who and what the absolute fuck is going on?

My silence is practically an admission of guilt, and my stomach goes cold even as heat scalds the inside of my throat. Every meager meal I managed to get down today threatens to come up.

“What is this now?” I growl.

Brian clears his throat. “Miss Stone was seen several times this past week with Jacob Kessler. The rumor mill is circulating, and you, as her manager, are in the perfect position to offer a comment as to the validity of these statements. Should I send you the photos we’re planning to run with the comments?”

I balance the phone between my face and shoulder, my arms crossed over my chest.

“Keep in mind, Mr. Ortega, we are going to press regardless.”

Before I have a chance to tell him to shove his story up his ass or that her dating life is none of my fucking business despite being her manager, the phone buzzes.

I hold it away from my face and press the speaker icon before unlocking the screen. The agony in my head triples and spreads through the rest of my body. This is just as bad, worse, than the photos Celeste took of the two of us together.

Because here, Empire is smiling again. It’s real and vulnerable and reaches her eyes in a way I haven’t seen in far too long.

In the first photo, she’s seated across from Jacob in some tiny café with her head tilted back in laughter and her eyes closed. Genuine happiness is evident on her face. And Jacob, the rat fucking bastard, has his hand over hers. Touching her. Grinning like a goddamn fool with their coffee hardly touched. The small details stick out to me, and I stare at the screen in rapt attention.

Cold.

Tired.

Sick to my stomach.

In the second one, they’ve locked eyes, a stolen moment with something taut and new and tenuous strung between them.

“Well?” Brian prompts, his voice tinny through the phone. “What say you? A match between Kessler and Stone will be the talk of the town, and we want to get our piece out before the other gossip rags catch wind. Do you have anything to say about the pairing? Is this real or some kind of publicity stunt?”

The hurt is keen and bright and devastating. But if I take too long to answer, Brian will infer all kinds of meanings. Things that have the potential to get out of hand if I’m not careful.

I take a beat to compose myself and make sure I’m not shaking before I tell him, “They are dating each other casually to see where things go.” Professional, Marcus. “This is new, so they want their privacy maintained. Do you understand?”

“Of course.”

Talk about pain.

Never in my life has anything managed to cut me at the knees so completely. A killing blow. The axe has always managed to swing above my neck and miss.

Jacob and Empire?

I knew it. From the night of the viewing, I sensed there was interest. I can tell when another man comes sniffing around something that belongs to me. No, not belong. Never again.

I want her to be happy. I knew this would happen eventually. At least Jacob is her age. A more suitable match than I will ever be. I’m terrible for her.

I’ve proven it time and again. There are no boxes I check on the list as a potential partner.

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