Page 90 of Burn the Wild

“Fuck me,” Ford mutters under his breath.

It’s like a bucket of icy water splashed in my face. I sit there and absorb the blow.

Bosko’s right. I have never had control. I lost myself so long ago, I’ve forgotten who I am. All because I handed my life over to Gavin on a silver platter.

“I also found a strong possibility Gavin’s been mismanaging your financials.”

“What are you talking about?” Over and over, I twist my bangles on my wrist. When I see Bosko’s shrewd eyes on me, I drop my hand and reach for Ford’s. I need him like I need air.

“Reese, you’re a superstar. According toVariety, you’re worth two hundred million. Yet you have no money?”

I blow out a breath, my frustration rising. “Well, Gavin cut off my cards and access to my bank account.”

Bosko gives me a long, squirm-inducing stare. Finally, he speaks. “No. I mean you havenomoney. Zero. It’s mostly gone.”

My stomach sinks, and I’m mortified to feel tears pricking my eyelids. It just keeps getting worse.

Gavin always allotted money to me, like an allowance. Which is bullshit because it’s mine. I earned every cent. He always said it was part of the process, that it was coming, but he had to have the accountants divvy it up first to those who needed their cut. Tours, merch, album sales—where has it all been going?

“Gavin.” The words drip from my mouth. “It’s been going to Gavin.”

“Exactly. I think he’s stealing from you.”

My jaw drops. “Based on what?”

“It’s a hunch. But I’m working to pull some statements,” he says calmly. “You followed your hunch and left. Why?”

I grip the edge of the table, thinking of the black hole that’s shrunk since I’ve been at the ranch. “I don’t—I don’t know. It felt bad. Dark.”

“You trusted your gut,” Bosko says, and I immediately feel vindicated. “Have you spoken to him?”

“I called him—”

“You called him?” Bosko sighs like I’ve royally fucked up.

“Once. Just to check in.”

“How did he act?”

“He wanted me to come back.” I bite my lip. “We’re supposed to sign a contract…he wouldn’t tell me what.”

“Does he know where you are?”

“No.”

“Keep it that way.” Bosko’s craggy brow furrows. “He said he’s going to help you?”

“Yes.”

“He ever said that before?”

A shiver of paranoia runs through me. “All the time.”

Bosko nods and taps my contract. “The key’s in this. The end date.”

I stare at my loopy sixteen-year-old signature. The Old Reese who didn’t know what she was doing. But I know now. I can fix it. I can be the woman she needed back then.

“My advice.” Bosko’s clipped voice has me looking up. “Sign nothing the man puts in front of you without your own lawyer. This contract is something you need out of, Reese. At first glance, it’s fraudulent, not to mention abusive.”

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