“Hello, Flower.” He greeted me with a slow, decadent smile. “They said you might be here tonight. So of course, you see, I had to tag along. And it was well worth it, I might say.” His black gaze oozed over me. “You look stunning.”
I gulped. My chest hurt. It was hard to breathe. “Wha—who—Th-Theo? What—what are you d-doing here?”
The smile widened, showing sharp incisors, like a cat about to bat around its prey. He looked the same as always—gleaming black hair, olive skin with the sheen of good skin care, large, dark eyes that twinkled in the dim restaurant lighting. He was maybe slightly thinner after a two-month stint in a minimum-security prison. It was for sexual assault. “Improper sexual conduct” had been the official verdict.
But we both knew what he had done. Theo del Conte, my ex-boyfriend, lover, abuser, psychotic menace, had raped me. In our home. Two rooms from where his friends were drinking champagne and dancing. Just after he had proposed marriage to me…and I had said no. And if the menace in his smile was any indication, he wasn’t anywhere near close to forgiving me for fighting for my justice in return.
Will shoved back in his seat with a loud screech that echoed through the room. “We’re going.”
“Will—” Tricia cut in.
He whirled. “And fuck you very much for springing this shit on us. It’s been four years. Four years. And the best way you could think of to make peace was to bitch slap me, then corner me with a studio head and his demented son at dinner?”
“Now, Will, wait a second!” Tricia spouted. “What are you talking about, demented son?”
“Ah, I think he means me, Trish,” Theo put in amiably. He still hadn’t stopped staring at me. I wanted to shower.
“You.” Will turned to Theo with murder in his eyes. “Motherfucker, I don’t know what your game is showing up here. But Maggie isn’t alone anymore. She’s got me. Read the news, asshole. I’m a fuck lot crazier than you are. I crash boats for the fun of it, and I fuck up strangers like it’s nothing. So don’t think for a goddamn second that I won’t ruin you for looking at my girl the wrong way. Especially after what you did to her.”
“Well, aren’t we gallant.” Theo picked up his butter knife and ran the serrated edge lightly over his fingertips, enough that I cringed. “But you can have fun with my sloppy seconds. That pussy is wrecked anyway.”
Will lunged forward, only to have his arms neatly captured by Benny.
“Easy, man,” Benny muttered. “Let’s not get arrested tonight, eh?”
“Say it again,” Will dared Theo, a large vein popping out on his forehead. “See if Benny can hold me back this time.”
“Will!” shouted Tricia. “What has gotten into you?”
“Chill, man. You gotta chill,” Benny said in a low, calm voice like he was taming a wild animal. “This ain’t the place, my friend. It ain’t. The place.”
Outside the curtained doors, the restaurant had gone much quieter. I held onto the top of the chair for dear life, genuinely afraid that I would fall over if I let go.
“That’s right, Benny. Calm your client,” Theo said.
He turned to the man sitting next to him—an older, suave gentleman in an expensive-looking black suit. He was the kind of man who commanded authority in a room easily without even speaking.
“Right now, he looks more like a beast than a man,” Theo continued. “I’m thinking his new contract should include some grooming requirements, don’t you think, Dad? No one’s going to want to see Fitz Baker on the red carpet looking like The Walking Dead.”
“Theodore, stop.”
The command wiped the smug expression off Theo’s face, and he slouched back in his chair to sip on his drink and send me death-glares over the rim of his glass. Will, having relaxed enough that Benny set him free, immediately returned to my side, wrapped a hand around my waist, and guided me toward the exit.
“We’re going, Lil,” he said. “Walk away.”
“Yes, walk away.” The deep voice of the well-dressed man, who was apparently Theo’s father, brought the room to a halt. “Go ahead. But it will cost you everything you have.”
Will stopped. Beside him, I swallowed. Outside, the chatter was audible again—I only wanted out.
“Shit,” Will whispered. Then he looked at me with sad, regretful eyes, and turned around.
“Will?” I asked, cowering into his side. “Will, what are we doing?”
Benny now sat at the table, shaking his head. Theo looked incredibly pleased with himself. Tricia glanced between Will and the older man nervously, like she was watching a tennis match. The older man himself folded his hands and waited.
“Fitzwilliam!” Tricia hissed, as if no one could see her beckoning her fully grown son with one hand like she was calling a small boy.
The man smiled, and a chill of recognition scampered up my spine. It was a smile I knew. Bright. Slick. Maybe a little demented. Just like the bastard sitting next to him. He reached a hand out, though I was much too far away to grasp it.
“I don’t believe we’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, Ms. Sharp,” he said in a voice that rode the edge of civil and sick. “Though I’ve heard plenty about you. Maximilian del Conte. You might know me better as Theodore’s father, but Mr. Baker knows me as the man who currently owns his last contract. A contract worth millions of dollars. One that he never fulfilled.”
“Will.”
Benny’s voice was low, and it was clear on his face that he had known about this the entire time he was trying to escort us to dinner. He hadn’t wanted us to be on time in order to make nice with Tricia. He was doing it so Will wouldn’t piss off one of the most powerful men in New York. In the entire entertainment industry. Hell, in the entire world.
Maximilian del Conte. Chairman of Del Conte Entertainment Group. Maker of destinies and crusher of dreams everywhere.
“Shit,” Will whispered again. He glanced at Benny. “You knew about this?”
Benny looked between us, his gaze landing on me with a fair amount of regret. “I’m sorry, Maggie,” he whispered. “I had to. Max means what he said. Everything is on the line here.”
The hand at my back pushed me gently toward the table. My heels were dug so far into the floor, I almost tripped.
I reared. “What?” I looked frantically at Will, whose shoulders were slouched. Desolate. “Why do we have to stay here. Will, we don’t need to sit down, do we?” I would have rather been literally anywhere else than at that table. Where the man who had ruined my life would watch me like prey for the rest of the evening.
“Oh, he’ll sit down.” Max del Conte’s sonorous voice again seemed to swallow the silence. “Because if he doesn’t, he knows he’ll be ruined. He’ll sit down, Ms. Sharp, because he knows I own him.”
8
“You look good, Flower.”
Theo’s eyes slid over me once more in a way that made me squirm. He had always had the ability to make me feel undressed, no matter what I was wearing. “Better than the last time I saw you.”
Will gritted his teeth. “And you look fucking stupid.” He darted a glare at Max del Conte. “He needs to go. Now.”
But del Conte only shrugged. “My son is getting ready to assume more leadership positions in the business. He needs more negotiation experience. He’ll stay.”
“We’re not negotiating anything if he’s here,” Will bit back as he stood back up. “And he has a restraining order that he’s already violated once. Does he want to go back to prison? The only reason we’re staying in town is to make sure justice gets served.”
“You may want to rethink that.”
I hovered behind my chair, ready to make for the door at a moment’s notice, but as del Conte spoke, my skin felt like it turned to glass.
“Sit down,” he ordered both of us calmly. He raised an arched brow. “Fitz.”
Will’s hand around mine squeezed hard enough I thought my fingers might crack. It was one of the only times I’d heard anyone beside
s photographers, tabloids, and the one fan call Will by his stage name, clearly a shortened version of his full, given name: Fitzwilliam. With one word, del Conte made it indubitably clear exactly what Will was to him: a property. Certainly not a person.
“Will, you need to listen,” Tricia put in, though she was quickly silenced by Will’s black gaze.
“You did this, didn’t you?” he hissed. “Some things never change.”
She didn’t get a chance to answer before del Conte spoke again.
“Five minutes in the same room won’t hurt anyone,” del Conte continued, caressing the edge of his scotch glass. “And Theo will stay safely on this side of the table from you, Ms. Sharp. After I’ve said my piece, if you like, both of you can pretend this meeting never happened and continue to make your case in court. Though, as I said before, I wouldn’t advise it. Perhaps you’ll let me explain why.”
Will’s jaw flexed as he ground his teeth together. Every muscle in his neck and face seemed to be cast in high relief; even beneath the confines of his shirt, I could see his biceps bunch. He didn’t look like a privileged actor sitting down to dinner at a fancy restaurant. He looked like a Viking who wanted to set fire to the whole joint.
“Yo.” Benny reached across me to nudge his friend in the shoulder. “I’ll take Maggie home if you want. But you need to hear Max out, and I’d prefer to be here with you.”
Will darted a nasty glance at him. “I’m sure you do.”
Benny shrugged, guilt playing across his face as he glanced at me. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to me. “But if you didn’t come, he wouldn’t have either.” Then he looked back at Will. “F, you need to listen.”
Will opened his mouth to protest, but I shook my head and finally spoke.
“It’s fine,” I said, finally able to find my voice as I managed to slide into one of the chairs. “I’ll stay.”
“Lil—”
I looked up, fighting every instinct I had to beg Will to take me out of this room. This restaurant. This city. But something was clearly important enough that Benny was willing to risk his friend’s wrath by bringing me here. If Benny was as loyal as Will said he was, that by itself told me we needed to do as he said and hear del Conte out.
“Where you go, I go, right?” My voice sounded small. Pathetic. Even more scared than I felt, which was already genuinely terrified.
The harsh scowl that had been on Will’s face since we walked into the room softened slightly. His gaze drifted down to my lips. Then he closed his eyes and blew out a long breath.
“Right,” he said as he sat down next to me. He turned to del Conte. “You have five minutes. Starting now.”
Again, that terrible, nasty smile appeared. “Good boy. Well, imagine how surprised we all were to read the news two weeks ago.” Del Conte took a measured sip of his scotch. “Fitz Baker. One of Beauregard Pictures’ most valuable commodities. Back from the dead, wouldn’t you know?”
Will ground his teeth. “What do you want, Max?”
“Will, be nice,” Tricia started, but quieted quickly when she was once again on the receiving end of her son’s foul temper.
“Don’t think for a fucking second I don’t know you sold me out to these vultures, Mom. I’ll deal with you later.”
My gaze bounced between Will, the del Contes, Tricia, and Benny. The tension in the room was growing exponentially by the second, and by the way Benny was also looking at his friend, we both were coming to the same conclusion: there was no way Will was going to last five minutes.
“Right,” Will said, turning back to del Conte. “So. What the fuck do you want?”
Del Conte’s eyes turned to steel. He didn’t say a word.
Will’s eyes narrowed. “I’m out of the game, Max. You know that. I crashed a boat to escape this rat race. I’m out.”
“Ah, but are you?”
Will’s eyes flared, and he opened his mouth like he was about to shout every obscenity in the book at del Conte’s smug face when he was interrupted by the entry of a waifish server.
“Hello, everyone,” she said as she approached the table looking bored until she caught sight of who was sitting around it. “Oh. Oh! Hel-hello there.”
Will rolled his eyes, Benny winked at the waitress, and Tricia snapped her fingers in the air. Several large gold bracelets on her wrist clinked together.
“Can we order sometime this century?” she asked.
The waitress, newly recovered from the shock of seeing Will, straightened toward the rest of the group. “Of course. What can I get for you all tonight? Would you like to hear the specials?”
Del Conte didn’t even spare the girl a second glance. Instead, his focus was purely on Will. “You know what I want,” he said. “It’s not on the menu.”
I looked between them, back and forth, without a clue. “Will, what is he talking about?”
“Maybe come back in a few minutes, honey,” Benny told the waitress, who, bug-eyed, scurried out of the room, much to Tricia’s irritation.
“Ben!” she hissed. “I was hungry!”
Benny shrugged. “You can eat in five minutes, Trish. That’s all this is gonna take.”
“You had a contract, Mr. Baker.” Del Conte pulled the attention back to himself. “For three pictures with Beauregard, a studio owned by del Conte Entertainment, you might recall. You only completed two. Now, I’m not a lawyer, son, but I employ some very good, expensive ones. And they all tell me that if you don’t fulfill the terms, you’re going to be in breach. Which, perhaps you may remember, can get very expensive.”
“Fine.” Will tipped back in his chair, looking like a kid caught in the principal’s office and not an Oscar-nominated actor in a five-star restaurant. “I’ll be in breach of contract. What’s the penalty?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Theo sneered. “How about a hundred mil, asshole?”
Will’s chair legs slammed to the ground. “That’s not what was in the original contract. A breach only cost twenty. Twice my original fee. No more.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, everyone,” Benny said. “Let’s not go crazy here.”
Tricia grumbled into her glass while my jaw dropped. Will talked about a twenty-million-dollar penalty like it was a few hours of community service, not more money than most people would ever see in their lifetimes.
“That was before you decided to jump ship, my long-haired friend.” Del Conte reached across the table and tugged on a loose lock of Will’s hair. “This, though. I think my son is right. This is going to need to come off. Can’t have my biggest commodity looking like an extra in a Biblical drama.”
Will smacked the fingers away with a loud slap that made me flinch. “You can keep your fucking hands to yourself.”
Del Conte shook out his hand. And laughed. “Still have that rebellious streak, I see. Well, it was always a money-maker on film. Not so much off, though.” His humor turned ice-cold. “Now. It would be better for everyone here if you remembered that I own you. End of discussion.”
Will was practically vibrating. “How do you figure, Max?”
The look spreading across the older man’s face couldn’t be called a smile. Smiles make people happy. They glow. Max del Conte’s expression sent chills down my spine. It was nothing short of evil.
“By the time of your ‘accident,’ your last two films with Beauregard Pictures earned three times their budget, and well over half a billion dollars. Each.” He drummed his fingertips on the tabletop. “You owe me one more, which you pulled out of under false pretenses. Fraud, if you will. Beauregard might need to reassess its damages. Emotional, of course. Financial. A lot of people lost their jobs on that final picture because the star wasn’t around to do it. Sets were destroyed. Grips, PAs, costume designers, effects people. Everyone lost income. And someone is responsible, don’t you think?”
I held my breath. Beside me, Benny studied the table. Will’s expression told me that even though he had money, he didn’t have that much money. Definitely
not the kind of money that could take on a beast like Del Conte Entertainment and win.
“All right,” he said finally, speaking through his teeth. “So you want me to do one last film?”
“Not just any film,” del Conte said. “This one.”
A script landed in the middle of the table with a hard slap. Will pulled it in front of us to read the cover.
“Green Lantern?” He looked up, disgusted. “Seriously? This is damaged property. No one has been able to make this concept work. You might as well flush three hundred million dollars down the toilet.”
“Theo here will be overseeing it. He’s got his thumb on the pulse right now. He’ll do a good job producing.”
I glanced at Theo. He winked. I shuddered.
“I’m not signing on to a franchise, Max,” Will said as he flipped through the pages. “And this writing is shit.”
“We’ll cross the franchise bridge when we get to it,” del Conte said as he fondled his scotch glass. He took a long drink and smacked his lips. “Funny thing about superhero movies. They tend to make a lot of money. I’m sure you can make it something worth watching. The world is going to clamor for the next Fitz Baker movie. You’ll give them a good show.”
“Bro.” Benny’s voice pulled Will’s attention. He looked down at the script and back up with raised brows, as if to say, “that’s life.” To Will’s right, Tricia studied her glass, uncharacteristically quiet.
Will looked through a second, smaller stack of papers under the script. “What’s this?”
“Your new contract,” del Conte replied. “As I said, we require some…addenda to the old one. Consider it a generous penalty for your original breach.”
Will flipped through the papers. “Ah. I see. Bit of a finder’s fee in here, huh, Mom?”
Tricia examined her French-tipped nails. “It’s a standard agent fee that’s none of your business. It doesn’t come out of your cut, whatever that will be.”
Will’s brows rose as he thumbed to another page. “Do I look like I’m still fifteen fucking years old to you? It’s in my contract. And it’s not going to be this, I can tell you that.” He passed the papers to Benny, who immediately glanced through whatever section they were talking about.
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