Page 59 of Filthy Rich

“I have to film early today,” I say. “We’re way behind, thanks to?—”

“I’ve been following along,” he says. “I know all about Patrice Jouveau.” He shakes his head. “What kind of a moron is that blatant anywhere someone else could see her?”

“Clearly her father was less rigorous with her education.”

“You’re mocking me, but I’m serious.” He leans closer. “I taught you well, at least. You’ve never been naive or clueless.”

He’s right about that.

When I go in to work half an hour later, he insists on following me. He tries to drive, but there’s no way I’m allowing that.

“A manager’s supposed to drive.”

“They drive if it’s a van,” I say. “Or maybe a charter of some kind. Even a limo, but not this.” I shake my hands over the steering wheel of my Mercedes. “Only I drive this.”

Once I get out of the car, my phone bings, and I realize I have quite a few messages, including one from Bea asking about my dad. I can’t really text her about it now. She’d just come rushing over. I’m stuck hoping she’s bluffing about confronting me in person.

I’ve just come out of costume and makeup when my dad almost runs into me with another black coffee. “Dad, be careful,” I snap. “You almost dumped that all over me.”

He leans closer. “That was the point. Then you can get a better shirt.”

I roll my eyes. “I like this shirt. I picked it.”

“Oh.” He eyes me sideways. “Interesting.”

I might dump the coffee over his head in about thirty more seconds. “What do you want?”

“Can we chat for just a moment? They said you had five.”

Of course he was listening, but he didn’t really get it. They told me to take five minutes so I could go pee, not to argue with him about my shirt. Even so, I just nod. “Sure.”

We duck into the janitorial closet since my trailer’s a hundred and fifty yards in the wrong direction. The door won’t close all the way, but that’s fine. I don’t really want to encourage a long heart-to-heart anyway.

“What did you want?” I arch one eyebrow. Maybe if I’m rude enough, he’ll give up and go back to New York without me. I can deal with him later, once I’ve made up a plan for how to keep Dave and Seren safe.

“While you were getting ready, I was able to walk around mostly unnoticed.” He nods slowly. “It’s helpful to have someone around whom no one knows. We’ll have to remember that, once everyone knows who I am.”

I blink.

“What I heard might surprise you.”

“What did you hear, Dad?” In spite of my efforts not to insult or offend him, my tone’s flat. Too flat. “Just tell me.”

He purses his lips like he’s not sure I really want to know.

“I just have five minutes, remember?”

“Here’s the thing. I’m sure you’ve seen some of the positive chatter, and you definitely didn’t want to wind up on the wrong side of things there. That Patrice woman. . .” He shakes his head. “That was a total disaster, and you wisely steered way clear. But I will just say that your acting has improved dramatically.” He slow claps.

I’m still not quite sure what he’s saying. “Dad, can you get to the point?”

“No one likes the idea of you dating that burned woman.”

I ball my hand into a fist and grit my teeth. Neither action helps me calm down. “Octavia,” I hiss. “Her name’s Octavia Rothschild, not the ‘burned woman.’”

“Well, I know you didn’t want to be the one attacking her, but can I just say how impressed I am that you’ve been able to convince everyone you’re actually dating that Crispy Critter?” He chuckles. “The funniest thing Patrice said, hands down.” He leans closer. “And give the man an Emmy. I didn’t think your acting was very good until I saw the video with you and her. I mean, you really look like you like her in the clips I’ve seen.”

I don’t think about it or clench my jaw or grab the sides of my jeans.

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