Page 8 of Fool's Gold

I’m not sure if the half second of sanity is going to be enough to bring me back from the edge, but it gives me a tiny moment to ask what the actual eff I’m doing.

Marcus growls, kissing me brutally on the lips before he shifts back and grabs the cell from his pocket.

I grip his shoulders to keep him close. “No. Don’t answer it.” The words are out before I know what I’ve said.

I want to keep him with me, touching me, teasing me. Not that we’ve come to some sort of common ground between us, but having him back in my arms, well…everything will smooth itself out. I know it.

Marcus keeps one hand on my leg while he fumbles for the cell with the other and answers the call. “What?” he barks.

Raw silence follows.

I stare at him and mouth, “Who is it?”

Marcus shakes his head, pulling back. It isn’t exactly the cold shoulder, but it’s close enough to have my skin bristling and a chill slipping its fingers along my vertebrae. He skims his hand down my leg before backing away entirely, and I shiver, wrapping my arms across my chest to keep some of my heat in.

Marcus turns his back and drops his voice to the point where it’s impossible to hear what he says. Within seconds, he ends the call. Color blots his neck and jaw, and he clenches his fingers around the cell, ready to toss it as far away as possible.

“We need to talk.”

I swallow hard. Those are the absolute worst fucking words anyone can say to another human being.

He must see something awful flash across my face, something I’m unaware of and too slow to hide. He reaches for me in the next heartbeat and draws me into the comforting cave of his arms. “Hey, calm down.”

“Not exactly the comfort I was hoping for,” I manage to get out.

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to tell you things will be okay because frankly? They’re not okay. Things are fucked beyond recognition. Which is why we need to talk,” Marcus replies.

“Who was on the phone?”

“A man by the name of Stanic Maxim. Not someone you would know, but…he’s about to be the one in charge of both our lives.” Marcus pauses, then scoffs. “Who the fuck am I kidding? He’s been pulling my strings for some time.”

“I don’t understand…”

I squeal, my stomach dropping as Marcus loops an arm underneath my knees and scoops me into his arms. He strides into the living room and deposits me on the dusty sofa. Rather than taking a seat beside me, he moves to the armchair, my father’s favorite recliner, and maintains his distance, perching on the edge like a raptor.

I sniff like I’ve actually got some ground here, shifting to push my hair out of my eyes and acting like I wasn’t a second away from begging him to fuck me. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I.”

We scowl at each other, a rut forming between my eyes. “What’s really going on? You’re starting to scare me.”

“You should be scared.” He leans forward, his legs splayed and his elbows balanced on his knees. His shirt is askew, his hair ruffled from our kisses, and his lips perfect and plump. “You should be very scared, Empire, because we’re talking about the Mafia. Right now, they own me, they own you, and they own more than half of this town.”

“The mob.” I drag in a breath, and it explodes out of me in a skeptical laugh. “You’re being ridiculous. Mobs don’t actually exist.”

His expression is deadly serious, the complete opposite of ridiculous. “I went to Stanic to make sure you weren’t going to be hurt after what happened with Parker. And in exchange for your protection, I sold myself to him, body and soul. He’s bought you because he owns this movie, the one you’re contractually obligated to shoot, and he wants it to be made. Unless you go through with the part and film to the end, then we’re as good as dead.”

It’s the largest exchange he and I have had in years. At least, that’s how it feels. The stark honesty unnerves me.

“I refuse to do that movie. The press is already eating me alive for the scandal with us,” I argue.

The beginnings of a damn tantrum bubble up inside me, the classic freak-out moment.

Marcus deepens his scowl. “You know those photos are doctored.”

“Of course I do. But I also know you’ve promised to tell me the absolute truth, and so far, you haven’t exactly been forthright with me.” I felt proud of the word. Forthright.

If one of us is going to embody it, it should be me.

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