Page 38 of Reputation (Tempt)

“Fine,” Trinity said in a snarky tone. “Be that way.”

I gripped the device so hard I was surprised I didn’t crack the screen. She could be so immature sometimes. I honestly wasn’t sure what I’d ever seen in her.

“I just thought it would be nice for us to talk,” she continued. “You know, without involving all the suits. Because this doesn’t need to be that complicated.”

If only I’d talked her into relinquishing her parental rights when we’d divorced. Then I wouldn’t have had the threat of another custody battle hanging over my head all these years. But at the time, I’d just wanted to be done.

And initially—naively—I’d thought maybe Trinity would want to have a relationship with her daughter. Besides, I couldn’t do that to Brooklyn. If Trinity didn’t want to be involved, that was her choice. But I wasn’t going to be the one to cut Brooklyn’s mother out of her life.

“You’re right. It doesn’t,” I said, cutting her off. “Why don’t you just tell me what you really want since we both know it isn’t more time with Brooklyn?”

“Of course I want more time with my daughter,” she said in an indignant tone. As if I’d somehow offended her, when I could count the number of years she’d sent birthday gifts to our daughter on one hand.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” I said, growing more and more agitated.

We both knew she wanted more money, not more time with Brooklyn. But she wasn’t going to come right out and say it. She was too cunning. Hell, she probably suspected that I was recording this conversation. And maybe I should’ve been.

“Ooh. Someone’s testy. Having trouble learning your lines again?”

I seethed. I wanted to remind her that that had happenedonce.But her comment was unnerving because I was used to taking on roles that allowed for more improvisation. Since my new part stayed faithful to the text of the novel, I wouldn’t have as much freedom with my lines.

“Maybe you should have your nanny help you run them,” she said, her voice dripping with honey.

Emerson had offered to help months ago, though I knew it was in jest. But I couldn’t impose on her more than I already had. Even if I could use the practice, running lines with Emerson would be too risky, considering the subject matter.

“I’m sure she’d be happy to help you with all sorts of things,” Trinity added in a suggestive tone. “If she isn’t already.”

I clenched my fists. Trinity had some nerve. She’d upset Brooklyn, on Christmas, no less. And now she was insulting Emerson. I was done.

“Get to the point, Trinity. Or I’m hanging up.”

“I want Marie Antoinette’s diamond and pearl necklace.”

No.I scoffed. “No fucking way. I’d rather see you in court.”

I ended the call without giving her a chance to respond. I would never give her that necklace—or any other piece of jewelry that had been part of my mother’s collection.

I threw my phone across the room, and it collided with the wall with a satisfying crunch. I’d probably regret that later, but at the moment, I couldn’t find it in me to care.

Trinity didn’t matter. Her bullshit didn’t matter. My time with Brooklyn was precious, and I wasn’t going to let Trinity—or anyone else—ruin it.

CHAPTERNINE

Ilifted the champagne glass to my lips, surveying the room as I counted the minutes until I could leave. It was the annual end-of-year party for the studio, and it was a star-studded event. I wondered what Brooklyn and Emerson were up to. I wished I were watching movies on the couch with them, instead of parading around in a tux and pretending to be remotely interested in any of these banal conversations.

I peered out at the LA skyline, my mind elsewhere. Preoccupied with our upcoming trip to Abu Dhabi.

Jackson had already sent part of his team there to prepare. In a few days, he and another one of his team would fly out with Emerson, Brooklyn, and me. I was wound tight with anticipation. About the filming. About…everything.

Annalise’s tell-all had released. Trinity had filed her custody challenge. I was trying to hold it together while running a studio and raising Brooklyn. And in the center of it all was Emerson, the true calm in the chaos, grounding both Brooklyn and me whether she realized it or not.

The past few months, I’d come to rely on her, trust her. And not just with things that pertained to my daughter. I’d ask Emerson for fashion advice. Business advice. Her thoughts on my workout. I’d make excuses to spend time with her. I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

It was a problem.

My phone buzzed, and I removed it from my pocket to see Brooklyn’s name flashing on the screen. I furrowed my brow. She wouldn’t have called during a work event unless it was important. Maybe she’d called by accident?

I stepped into the hallway. Before I could even say hello, Brooklyn was talking at full speed. Something about Emmy and an ambulance. Panic zipped through me. I wasn’t sure whether her words were garbled with tears or my ears were full of blood. The stuff whooshed through my head, and my heart was racing.

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