Page 52 of Titan

“I’m not here to talk about that.” Kathleen checks her phone and then drops it back down on the table and waves her hands dismissively.

“I am.” My tone is cool and calculated, just as much a costume as my stilettos are as a sugar baby. Even though my heart has been racing since the phone call this morning, I won’t escalate the situation.

She shakes her head, turning towards the sidewalk as if she hasn’t heard what I said.

“What did you want to talk abo—” I start, then am immediately interrupted.

“Are you dating anyone?”

I choke on my water.

“No.”

My answer feels wrong, but what Titan and I are doing is transactional, further from dating than what I do with my typical arrangements. My fingers pull at my sweater, worrying its soft edge.

“That’s not what I heard.” Kathleen tsks. Her icy blue eyes glint knowingly.

“From who?” I can’t think of anyone other than Safiya who knows about Titan, and she would never talk to my mother.

Richard, however, used to pay off the PAs on set to check my phone and listen to my conversations with the other cast members. His presence became claustrophobic, and I’d asked my mother to keep him off set. She did—for a while, anyway.

“What did he do?” I finally ask when she doesn’t answer me.

The first thing I ever stole from Richard was on the set ofFish Tales.It wasn’t anything special, nothing he would miss, a silver pen he carried in his front jacket pocket. He never noticed it missing, but the feeling of holding something of his in my hand was a heady one. I spent the rest of the day on a high, easily knocking out scenes in one or two takes. I had control, I had power, and it’s a feeling I never forgot.

“Well, now, honey, that’s what I wanted to warn you about. Richard said he was told you were at some wrap party with this older man.”

I swallow a laugh at the “older man” comment. In human years, I’m thirty to his early forties, but in reality, Titan has over six hundred years on me, so “older man” is a bit of an understatement.

“He’s planning on going to the judge with this information, honey.”

“For dating someone?”

“We both know that’s not what you’re doing.” She drops her voice to a low hiss as she looks around the restaurant. “He’s decided it’s easier for him to set up a conservatorship. Legally, he would be put in control of not just your assets, but you. He could make you take jobs, start acting again, if he wanted to.”

A cold chill races down my spine, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. If what my mother says is true, this isn’t just about money anymore; this is about every aspect of my life. Bile rises in my throat. Everything I worked so hard for—my money, my independence—feels like a delicate spider web in my hand. If I do the wrong thing, trust the wrong person, the delicate threads that hold my life together will break.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because this is too far. I just wanted to invest your money, maybe take what I’m owed for all the work I did, but not this,” she says solemnly. Her hands move nervously over her place setting, adjusting her silverware and fidgeting with her phone. “Now that you know, we can figure this out together. We can stop him.”

“How?” My hands grip the edge of the table as I try to steady myself.

“Well, to start off, we need to go over everything that he could use against you. Who was the man you were with this weekend? Richard said he wasn’t a good guy, is that true?”

“How does he know who I was with?”

“Was he paying you to be there, honey? Or buying you presents, you know, uh… in exchange?” My mother leans forward in her chair, her blue eyes sparking with interest. “Have you been doing this with other men? It’s not just Titan. It’s okay, honey. We just need to know what he might have on you.”

When I don’t immediately answer, she starts fidgeting, picking up her phone, then putting it back, always screen down. She taps her fingernails next to it. The bright white diamond on her finger matches her glinting diamond tennis bracelet. She notices her fidgeting, stops herself, and sits on her hand.

My brows pull together in suspicion. My mother doesn’t hide her wealth, especially when it’s of the shiny, sparkly variety. Something is off. She is off.

“Well, honey.” She shifts the phone an inch closer to me before sitting back down on her hand. “We’re really going to need to get into it if we’re going to beat Richard, okay?”

It all clicks.

Anger flashes through me, white hot rage making my adrenaline race and breath come fast. Just as quickly, I force myself to control it.