Page 68 of Fool's Gold

“Fuck your professionalism. You weren’t so concerned about me when you ordered the crew to shoot for twenty hours a day,” I counter.

Miss Stone. Not baby, not sweetheart, not even my first name. Definitely not Em. I swallow over the shock of it and the ice that follows.

“I’ve done nothing but what’s in the best interests of you and the others.” His insistence makes me sicker. “Even though I’m sure you don’t believe me. Anyway, it’s over now.”

“You were a monster, and you treated us like crap.” Emotion bubbles up and threatens to erupt and burn both of us. “I highly doubt anyone will want to work with you again after this.”

“Then it’s a problem I’ll encounter when it comes up.” He’s perfectly polite. “Now, is there a point to your intrusion?”

I want to scratch his eyes out.

I want to kiss him.

I’ve taken a step toward him before I can stop myself. Barely legal, and my life has already taken more twists and turns than so many others. It seems like years since Marcus touched me, and suddenly the time has become an insurmountable abyss.

I’ve been verbally abused, hurt, and degraded.

Now he wants to act like it’s all part of his job? Like it’s for my benefit?

“Look at me, Marcus. Really look at me.”

He finally lifts his gaze to mine and blinks, staring through me rather than seeing me. It’s worse than a physical slap.

My hands clench into fists, and my body practically vibrates with the need to lash out. Where has it gotten me, though? Absolutely nowhere. I’ve raged against him, I’ve cried, and it’s like beating my hands against a brick wall. I think the wall might have more emotions than Marcus.

So why do I want him so badly?

What possibly draws me to him when he’s giving me nothing? He’s taking from me, causing distress—

I stop the tantrum before it comes out, breathing in and counting in my head. “I want you to see this.” I’d forgotten about the bag I hauled to the office, the one kept just off set with the script from Jacob.

Breaking eye contact, I grab the pages and hand it out to Marcus.

He stares at it for the longest time. Hesitant when I’ve never known him to be, like the pages will somehow reach out and snap off the tips of his fingers if he touches them.

“This is the next movie I want to do.”

I’m still unsure whether I want him to continue to represent me; breaking that contract might throw him over the edge. But the idea of seeing him all the time, talking to him, having him manage my future projects, and being subjected to his presence…how much more torture can a person go through?

“I wanted to show it to you,” I continue.

Relief relaxes his features. “A work thing. Got it.”

I jolt backward, invisible electric prods straightening my spine. He’s… What? Happy that I only came in here for work? Rather than an actual what-the-fuck-are-you-doing conversation?

“Read it if you want.” I can’t bring myself to take the script back from him. “I’m doing it with or without your blessing.”

I’ve got to get out of here. As far away from him, this set, these people as possible.

Where am I going to go?

There’s nowhere I can run where he won’t find me. It’s true.

Do I even want him to find me anymore?

Feeling like I’ve been flayed, I spin out of the office, wanting to disappear. Hoping it’s possible. Knowing it’s not.

TWENTY-TWO

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