Page 66 of Titan

“Fine,” I snap. “A deal is a deal, right? I’ll see you on Saturday, but I don’t need to see you before then.”

“No,” he roars. “You stay here where I can keep you safe.”

“What do you have to keep me safe from, Titan? You just told me you solved all my problems,” I bite back. “I’m going home. Anything you need to say to me can go through Eden.”

Titan lets out a long, irritated growl. If he’s saying words, I don’t bother deciphering them.

I head for the door and stop suddenly, turning back to him at the open entryway.

“Have Eden send me the rest of my clothes.”

ChapterFifteen

JULES

“It’s over?”

It’s a comfort to hear Safiya’s naturally husky voice even if it’s just over the phone. I didn’t realize how much I missed the familiar sound or how much had happened since we last spoke until she’d picked up.

“Just like that, they dropped the claim?” she asks.

“That’s what Gutierrez said.” My voice wavers as I share everything I just learned from my lawyer and my heart pounds with the steady thump of hope I can’t yet trust.

I move to the small balcony off my living room of my rent-controlled one-bedroom apartment in East LA, sliding open the squeaking glass door to take in a deep breath of fresh air.

“I sent him the last of the documents from my old jobs. And an…um, investigator was able to find a lot of what they had on me.” I decided it would be easiest to explain the Strange situation I was in once Safiya was back on the West Coast. “Gutierrez said it would’ve been enough to sway the judge into dismissing the case, but Richard’s lawyer—”

“Fucking dick,” Safiya says as an automatic response to my ex-manager’s name, and I smile.

“Yeah, well, the dick finally dropped the case and their claim on my money.”

I hadn’t allowed myself to think of anything but the case for the past couple days, not Titan or our argument that morning in the penthouse. Too much could go wrong with the lawsuit after what Titan had done.

What if Richard died?

What if he retaliated?

I’d forced myself to look at every photograph from the P.I. Stiel had sent me before sending them onto my lawyer. If Richard had wanted to paint me as out-of-control, he had the pictures to tell that story. It wasn’t an accurate representation of my life, but that didn’t mean a judge or jury wouldn’t easily slot me into the washed-up child star role.

“That’s amazing, Jules!” Safiya says excitedly, and I can almost feel the warm hug that would’ve accompanied her words if she was with me now. “You fought for so long, and you’ve worked so hard for this.”

But I didn’t. It wasn’t my work that made them drop the case, I realize.

“What do you do next?”

“Nothing. Just wait for the paperwork to go through. Gutierrez said it should take a few months before I get my money.”

“So you can finally relax.” When I take too long to respond, she adds, “That’s a good thing, Jules.”

“I know, I know. It just doesn’t feel real.” After years of always having another task to complete for the case, there is now no next step. I pace the short distance from one end of the balcony to the other, tapping a staccato rhythm along the top of the wooden railing.

“It’s real. Believe it. Because if things don’t work out with George, then you better believe you’re going to be my sugar daddy.” She laughs, and I hear the muffled voice of her sugar daddy, George, saying something teasing in the background. “I’m sorry, Jules. He’s bugging me about touring the winery and won’t leave me alone.”

I hear her playfully bat her sugar daddy away.

“Go, go. I just needed to share the news.” I force out a laugh as my stomach turns. She’s happy, and I should be happy too. I should be ecstatic, but instead, anxiety tenses my muscles, and I’m unsure of what to do with my free hand.

“Jules,” she says, suddenly serious, “it’s finally over.”

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