Page 14 of Wrath

“Are you kiddin’? You’ve been the costume designer for three blockbuster movies in the last year. You had an article written about your work in Vogue magazine just last month.”

“Aaron, how do you know all this?” She laughs a little through her tears and knowin’ I caused it makes my anger fade into a smile.

“Because as soon as I found out what name you were goin’ by, I made it my business to know everythin’ there is to know about ya.

Katie Sullivan is a well-respected, sought-after costume designer and all that is because ofyourtalent,” I tell her firmly.

“Yeah, well, Katie Sullivan doesn't exist anymore, and Mark took great pleasure in reminding me that my business belongs to him.” I release her and take a step back while I process what she’s telling me.

“I thought ya said that he loved ya.” I feel my forehead crease in confusion.

“He does, or at least he did. I guess this is just his way of making me hurt.”

“No, Eden, if that man loved ya he wouldn’t do somethin’ like this. This guy’s playin’ a game. One he thinks will get ya back, and I’m gonna teach him a fuckin’ lesson on gam–” She grabs my arm and pulls me back before I can make it to the door.

“No. Aaron. No violence.” I recognize the pleading in her eyes, it sends me right back to that night in the warehouse and makes me feel sick.

“No violence?” I shake my head and laugh at her, she must have forgotten where she is. “So Raze was okay with this guy comin’ here and threatenin’ to take away everythin’ his sister’s worked for?” I question, wondering how this Mark, whoever he is, even got the chance to leave the compound.

“Raze doesn't know, and he’s not going to. I’m going to put together the presentation I was working on, right here and I’mgoing to take it to the producers, so I can prove to Mark that I don’t need him.” I love how confident she’s being, but she and I both know that she can’t run a high-end costume design business from a motel room on a biker's compound.

“How much to buy him out?” I ask.

“I don’t know, but it’ll be expensive. Mark made sure I had the best of everything, starting out. I never really had much of a say in anything financial. I was just so excited to have my own studio.”

“Eden, you're the one with the talent, without you, thereisno business,” I remind her.

“Do you think that matters to Mark? His family is beyond rich. He owns one of the biggest agencies in L.A. He’s going to keep hold of Katie Sullivan Designs and let it rot, just so he can see me fail.”

“Bastard.” I run my fingers through my hair. Trying to come up with a solution.

“He’s just hurting, he had a vision in his head of how his life was going to be and I ruined it. I can relate to that.” She looks up at me through her lashes and I know what she’s referring to. Instead of rising to it and trying to explain, I let it go and focus on something I can change.

“How much will it cost for you to start up again? On your own, with your real fuckin’ name?” I like the idea of that much better.

“I can’t do that, Mark got me to where I was, I had a head start because he knows everyone in the industry. We went to a different dinner party almost every night, he’s Hugh Walker’s kid's godfather, for Christ's sake.”

“Then you call him and you ask him how much he wants.” I pick up her cell from the dressing table and put it in her hands.

“You’re not hearing what I’m saying, Aaron. Mark wants revenge for me humiliating him, and there's not a price he can put on that.”

“Yeah, well we’ll see about that.” I turn and walk out the door and when she calls after me I ignore her and keep heading for my bike.

“Aaron Anderson, I swear if you go and hurt that man, I will leave this place and you will never see me again.” I stop dead, then slowly turn around to face her.

She’s looking scared, and I hate that she cares enough about this piece of shit ex to even make that kinda threat.

“I won’t hurt him. But Iamgonna talk to him.”

“No, Aaron, you can’t help this situation.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t try.” I go to move and she quickly grabs at my arm.

“Please, Aaron, don’t hurt him,” she begs, and I can’t resist lifting my hand up her jaw and stroking my thumb over her soft, plump, bottom lip.

“I promise.” I swallow thickly, before turning around and marching back to my bike.

Inside Mark Collard’s office building everything looks impressive. It’s bright and spacious, with a view that overlooks the Hollywood sign as a reminder to all his clients of what he could do for them. I, of course, stick out like a nun in a whorehouse in my black jeans and the cut I’m wearing. I stroll through the entrance and the receptionist smiles politely, as she reaches under her desk to press what I’m assuming is a panicalarm. I quickly reach across and take her wrist before she can get to it.

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