Page 84 of Fool's Gold

“As slavery is illegal, I highly doubt it.” Empire squares her shoulders. “You aren’t able to own another human being.”

I’ve never been prouder of her and more terrified.

“I’m sure he hasn’t told you.” Celeste looks down her nose at the couple, her disdain evident. “He made a deal. He gave himself over to me, so you’re able to do whatever you like. Those were the terms boiled down to their basest roots. You’re out for good.”

She curves her fingers, nails biting down into my skin. I feel it even through the suit. Her proximity to Empire has my nerves on fire and ragged. She clearly has an agenda, and I highly doubt it’s only to rub my new status in the younger woman’s face. Something’s going on I don’t understand, and I’m too fucked up to realize what it is.

“What kind of deal has he struck?” Empire continues. “Although I believe only the worst kind of woman would trap another and gloat about it.”

“I’m confused.” Jacob still has his ridiculous for-the-cameras smile in place, tacked on at the edges like a professional. “Is Mr. Ortega no longer your manager?”

“No, he’s not,” Empire snaps.

She refuses to break her attention away from Celeste, and I have a feeling Jacob and I are nothing more than outliers in this battle of wits between the two women.

But I know who will win.

There is no doubt that of the two of them, Celeste is more practiced, with no sense of a moral compass.

“He’s moved on to different avenues,” Celeste continues. “Now he’s mine to do with what I will.”

“There you go again, talking like you can own another person.”

Celeste only smiles because she knows it’s true. I’ve sold myself to her willingly. The deal is mine, and she’s the one who holds the keys to the collar around my neck.

There’s no use telling her that everything is going to be okay because it fucking won’t be. No matter how I try to spin it. Through it all, my tongue is tied in knots, no longer capable of speech, if only because silence is the last weapon available.

It helps to know the reality of the situation. I used to spin those fantasies to get myself through the day, dreaming of what I’d have and do and be one day. I made it to the peak, and now there is nothing but a swift decline into the hell of Celeste’s arms rather than the heaven I’d gotten to know.

A choice I made.

Jacob glances between the two women and their silent standoff, with the cameras and the world connected to their lenses watching closely. “I’m not sure what’s going on. I feel like I’ve missed something important,” he says.

“Try not to worry overly much,” Celeste replies. “You’re not here to think, only to look pretty.”

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Jacob scowl outside of a part he was hired to play. And I’m willing to bet no one has ever talked back to him the way Celeste just did.

“Well, while this has been fun, I think I can do without going inside. The festivities are a little droll, aren’t they?” The sympathetic grin she flashes toward Empire says enough about what Celeste believes.

I wince, hiding the motion in a cough.

Celeste tightens her grip on my arm in a way that tells the entire world what she plans to do. She arches her back, her chest heaving against the fabric of her silken shift. “It’s time for us to go home.”

To emphasize her point, she nips my ear, and it’s fucking hard to ignore Empire’s disgusted gasp.

I force myself to meet her eyes. Trying to memorize the lines of her face because my gut tells me this is the last time I’ll ever see her.

TWENTY-SEVEN

I’m going to rip the smug smile off the bitch’s face, along with skin and meat, all the way down to the bone. My nails curve into my palms and dig in deep, leaving little crescents behind. I don’t need to look down to see them.

I feel their existence.

I know they’re there, the points ready to gouge out her eyes and wear them as rings. Let her insult me. The horrible feelings toward her are a shield of fantasy better than any metal. It doesn’t bother me. Insulting Jacob seems to be part of her default settings, although it ticks me off to listen to her derision.

But the way she grabs Marcus, the way she rubs it in my face that he belongs to her now… Worry and frustration tangle together in a twisted knot. He delivered her evidence to me. As if thinking about the woman watching us fuck isn’t enough to make me hate her, she’s somehow worked it to her advantage.

What, did he make her turn over the evidence and promise himself in return?

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