by Cora Kenborn
Since it’s Saturday, Rosten’s door is wide open. Naturally, I accept the invitation, barreling in with guns blazing.
He’s standing by the wall of glass, staring out over his kingdom with his back to me. “Dominic. What can I do for you?”
Darkness beckons me. It’s where I belong. The moment a man in an Italian suit led me to a black SUV, I sold my soul to it. Served it. Bent to it. I did its bidding and never looked back.
Except one time a pair of sad green eyes brought me into the light. One time I sewed an angel’s wings back on and set her free.
I’ll be damned if I’ll let it all be for nothing.
I charge toward him, crashing both of us against the glass. Grabbing his tie, I wind it around my fist. “You can tell me what the hell you think you’re doing to Alexandra.”
“I’m making her a star,” he croaks.
“I meant your little private sessions, you sick fuck. How long have they been going on?”
His face starts to turn purple, and his mouth opens and closes like a fish. While the visual amuses me, I need the fucker to talk, so I loosen my grip. “Alexandra needs special training.” He coughs as he tugs on his collar. “A firm hand, if you will.”
Letting out an inhuman roar, I pull my arm back and punch him in the face, his nose exploding into red rivulets.
His hands fly to his face. “You son of a—”
I grab him by the throat and drive my knee into his gut, cutting him off. Pulling my gun from behind my jacket, I slam him against the glass again while shoving the barrel under his chin. “Tell me I’m a son of a bitch now, you cocksucker.”
“How did you get that through the metal detector?”
“I used to fuck one of the guards. Nice girl. Bad lay. Next question.”
Even with a bullet ready to blow his head off, he smirks. “This was a costly mistake. We had a deal.”
I shove the gun deeper into his throat. “Fuck your deal. I agreed to get Alexandra to sign your contract, not suck your dick.”
“But she’s so good at it.”
“Motherfucker!” I drive my knee into his gut again and again. Eventually, the only thing keeping him upright is my hand around his throat.
“You also realize,” he wheezes, “this nullifies our agreement about your mother.”
“My mother is—”
“Being supported by your whore. I know. How many times have I told you, McCallum? I own Wyatt Everly and every son of a bitch in that hospital. I don’t care if Alexandra buys the whole damn wing. My word is God.” He smiles again, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Poor Brenda. How will she ever fare on the streets?”
I swear to fuck, I almost pull the trigger. One bullet and it’d be over.
One problem solved.
But that leaves the others. I’d be behind bars, leaving Rubio and Luciano to run free. Angel would learn the truth, and I wouldn’t be there to take her someplace safe this time.
Releasing my hold from his throat, I pull my gun back and drive my fist into his ribs. “I’ll handle my mother.”
He lets out a rattled laugh. “Like you handle things for Luciano?”
I still, my finger curled around the trigger. He can’t know. The odds are impossible. Luciano is too calculated. Too careful. Too premeditated to risk knowledge buried under blood oaths and death.
Rosten’s nostrils flare as he stands, straightening his blood-stained suit jacket. “I told you, boy. I run this town. No one takes a shit without me knowing it. You won’t do a damn thing but tuck your limp dick between your legs and go back to your piece of shit gossip rag.”
I raise my gun, pointing it right between his eyes. “And if I don’t?”
He walks forward, standing right in front of the barrel, daring me to pull the trigger. “I’ll finish what Freddy Wiseman started.”
I don’t see Angel on Sunday.
Even though she sent five more texts and three more voicemails, I ignored them all. My mind was too muddled to deal with questions I couldn’t answer. After leaving Silverline, I took care of a few loose strings then went back home, got on my Harley, and drove.
I had no destination. I just needed an open road and the roar of the engine to clear my head. To plan. To figure out how to check off the rest of my boxes.
Now here I am pacing the inside of the garage elevator at the Romanov mansion at eleven-thirty on Monday night. She’s not going to like what I have to say, but there’s no other option. I got her into this mess, and I’ll get her out of it.
I did it once. I can do it again.
It took every ounce of restraint I had in me to let her step foot on that studio lot today, but one call to Brent set my nerves at ease. He promised to be her shadow, and since I didn’t get a call all day, I assume that bastard kept his hands to himself.
As soon as the elevator doors open, Angel runs straight into me and buries her face in my chest. “Thank God, you’re here. I don’t know what to do. She didn’t even say goodbye. That’s not like her. I know I told her to leave, but all her stuff is still here, so I called the bar, but no one’s seen her. I called the apartment. Nothing.” She looks up at me, those earthy green eyes frantic as they search mine for an answer. “Why wouldn’t she say goodbye?”
“What are you talking about?”
Her shoulders sag, the dark circles under her eyes more prominent than ever. “Violet’s missing.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Angel
For the last hour, Dominic and I have sat in silence on opposite ends of the cinema room couch. I don’t know why we ended up here. Maybe because it’s the room most likely to contain whatever ugly truth eventually spills out of both of us.
We’re both swimming in oceans of lies, barely keeping our heads above water. But the sea is a vast, dark place, and we can only fight for so long before we both slip under the surface. Dominic has retreated into a dangerous shell I’m afraid to break, and I’m haunted by a nightmare that won’t leave me.
The girl in my dream looked like me. A mirror image, but different. I know her. I’ve heard her voice so many times before. In dreams. In my head. In whispers. But seeing her and touching her has changed everything.
“You’ve protected her for so long, but she’s getting stronger. You know it; you just can’t see it.”
Brenda McCallum’s words echo in my head, and I know she was right. I’ve known it all along, and last night the power shifted, and I became the weak one. I’m no longer in control.
“I want you to break your contract.”
The words feel like a punch to the chest. My nails dig into my arms as I turn to face him. “What?”
Dominic doesn’t look at me, his body remaining rigid as he continues to stare at the blank screen. “Quit the movie. Tomorrow.”
“I can’t quit.” I know he hates Rosten, but this whole thing was his idea. His elaborate scheme. He pushed me toward him. He told me to sign with Silverline. I’m not sure what wires crossed in his brain, but we’re in too deep to walk away now.
Snapping his head around, he glares at me. “You have the money, so buy out your contract. Just don’t go back there.”
We stare at each other, engaged in a battle of wills as cold sweat scatters across my forehead. It’s not that simple. My back is against the wall. His back is against the wall.
Rosten will ruin us both.
“You can’t ask me to do that.”
Sliding across the couch, he curves his palm around my jaw, his icy blue eyes hardening. “I wasn’t asking.”
I’m pacing the floor when the elevator door finally opens. Stopping dead in my tracks, I meet Detective Rubio’s gaze and search for a hint of promise, only to find the same blank stare I’ve encountered for the past seven days.
“Have you found anything?”
He sighs, his usually immaculate suit worn and wrinkled. “Not yet. But it’s only been a week.”
Only a week.
&
nbsp; A week since I threw her out of my life.
A week since I filed a missing person’s report.
A week since she disappeared into thin air.
I turn away, resuming my pace, my stomach churning as I wrap my hands around my waist. A week. A week. A week. I wish Dominic was here. Even though there’s still an uncomfortable distance between us, his presence makes me feel safer.
“Miss Romanov, are you all right?”
His question takes me by surprise, and I spin around. “Why?”
Instead of answering, his gaze flicks toward my waist. Glancing down, I realize the skin on my arms is red and raw from being pinched between my fingers. Clearing my throat, I drop my hands by my side.
“May we should sit somewhere and have a few words?” He sounds insistent but exhausted. Like me. But not like me. Never like me. I’m sure he goes home at night, crawls in bed, and sleeps just fine. I’m sure he closes his eyes knowing screams and faceless angels aren’t waiting for him.
Well, fuck that.
“No. We can talk here.”
“Very well,” he says, finally dropping the act. “How well do you know Dominic McCallum?”
I pause again, my muscles twitching. “Why? What does Dominic have to do with anything?”
“Are you aware Greg Rosten sued him for libel and settled in arbitration for four-hundred-thousand dollars?”
Fools. They think they can turn us against each other, but they’re wrong. He can’t tell me anything I don’t already know. I’m in control, not him. Our secret is sacred.
We’re sacred.
“Yes.” My eyes dart toward the elevator. “If that’s all, I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”
But he doesn’t leave. He steps forward, his dark eyes digging into mine, searching for answers he’ll never find. “What about his impending bankruptcy? Don’t you find the timing odd that McCallum found you only weeks before losing everything he owned?”
“Sometimes, fate always finds a way.”
“Perhaps.” He walks a slow, deliberate circle around me. “Or maybe a man makes his own way.”
He stops right in front of me, and I hold his stare.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Gritting my teeth, I clear every ounce of emotion from my voice. “Are you following up on Violet’s disappearance, or do you have a personal vendetta against Dominic, Detective Rubio?”
“Come on, Alexandra, he set you up, and you know it. Do you ever wonder why he showed up at the right place at the right time? Why he’s so fascinated with your past and your parents’ murder? Why he knows so damn much about it?”
I close my eyes, blocking out the vitriol he’s trying to bury me under.
No. You can’t get in my head. There’s no more room.
I promised Dominic I was his, and a promise is forever.
“This conversation is over, Detective. Hilda will see you out.”
“No need,” he growls. “I’ll see myself out.”
The blonde reporter holds the microphone up to Kya Perrone’s smiling mouth. “What do you have to say about the recent shake-up at Silverline Studios? There must be a lot of pressure taking over such a highly-publicized role.”
I stare at the television screen, scowling as Kya smiles into the camera. “Alexandra Romanov’s contract release from Silverline was unfortunate, but I’m excited for this opportunity.”
Contract release my ass.
On Dominic’s demand, I bought out my contract with Silverline, but that’s not the story Rosten spun to the media. As far as the world knows, Alexandra Romanov was canned and tossed out on her ass for shitty acting and a diva attitude.
Now all I have is time, so I’ve spent it picking apart every minute of the last three and a half months.
“Do you ever wonder why he showed up at the right place at the right time?”
“Rook? What the hell are you doing?”
Glancing up, I see Dominic standing over me. He looks about as exhausted as me. The lack of sleep is getting to us both. “Watching TV.” Sighing, I pat the cushion next to me. “Sit down.”
He hesitates for a moment, then sinks down beside me as if his bones can’t stand the strain anymore. All I want to do is crawl in his lap, bury my face in his neck, and tell him we’re going to be okay, but there are already enough lies between us.
“Detective Rubio came by today.”
His jaw clenches. “Any word on Violet?”
I shake my head. “No. But he said something that got me thinking.”
I’m terrified to give Rubio’s taunts a voice, but if I don’t, they’ll eat away at the few pieces of me I have left. He may hate me for asking, but I’d rather take a razor and slice open a vein than slowly bleed to death from digging at scars.
“Why do you know so much about the Romanovs?” My hands twist in my lap. “From the minute you walked in this place, you’ve never asked for directions. It’s like you—”
Static rages in my ears as a blinding zigzag line tears across my field of vision.
“Where are we going?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Somewhere safe.”
“How will we get there?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then follow me. I know the way.”
Just as quickly as they came, the lights and voices disappear, and the static clears. All that I’m left with is a racing heart and Dominic’s stone stare.
“Like you know where you’re going,” I finish.
“Rook…” The cold indifference of this past week chips away as panic flickers in his blue eyes. There’s a moment of awkward silence as if he’s trying to think of the perfect phrase that will shove me back in my cage. But it’s too late.
His mask has slipped.
Every breath feels weighted. “What’s going on here, Dominic?”
“Nothing.” His body twitches as the storm rolls in. He expects me to hurl both of us into a tirade of hysterics. But I’ve learned.
Sometimes a gust of wind can cause more destruction than a hurricane.
“Violet told me you had an arrangement,” I say, my voice calm. “When were you going to tell me that? Or were you ever?” Before he can piece together a response, I hit him with another accusation. “How do you just happen to have someone who can falsify DNA tests? That’s not normal, Dominic.”
He swallows hard. “Rook...”
“Is that part of your past?” My voice hitches up an octave. “The one you won’t tell me about. How are you connected to Luciano Ricci?”
Dominic’s expression changes. Leaning forward, he presses our faces only inches apart. Startled, I lean back, only to have him erase my gains, his hands pinning me against the arm of the couch. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I’m both terrified and exhilarated.
As if reading my thoughts, his lips part in a salacious smirk, and he surges forward, crashing his mouth onto mine, commanding a kiss my body is conditioned to want. For a moment, I lose myself in the feel of his possession. Then I remember this is what he does.
He uses my weakness for him as a weapon against me.
Breaking the kiss, I push him away as I press the back of my hand against my lips. “You were late for the party. Where were you?”
“Angel,” he groans, diving toward my lips again, but I block him, with a palm against his chest.
“Where. Were. You?”
A dark scowl clouds his face. “Can we not do this right now?”
The night we ran lines together runs through my mind. It was the night Rubio confronted Dominic in the garage. I asked him about it, and he told me not to worry.
But detectives don’t show up at your house for no reason.
“That was the night that the photographer ‘jumped’ off the Colorado Street Bridge. The same one you argued with at your house. Was that you?” I shout, shoving his chest. “Did you kill him?”
His stare turns cold. Unfeeling. Black.
; “Oh God.” I shudder, the room starting to spin.
Dominic lets out a roar, and I flinch as he wraps his fingers around my jaw. “You want to play show and tell? Fine.” Releasing my face, he grabs a tight hold around my arm and yanks me off the couch. He barely gives me time to stagger to my feet, before dragging me down the hall.
“Dominic,” I beg as he stalks down another hallway like a man possessed. “Stop!”
Finally, he pulls us both into the study. After tossing me into the desk chair, he opens my laptop and logs into his email account. Seconds go by, my heart thundering in my chest until he finds what he wants and clicks on the attachment.
“There,” he growls. “You want to see what I’ve been dealing with? Take a good fucking look.” Once I see what he’s pointing at, my stomach turns inside out. “Thanks to Freddy Wiseman, your pussy was about to become a national headline.”
The image swims in front of me. “No.”
“We were being blackmailed, sweetheart. Good old-fashioned extortion. So, am I sorry that shitbag is dead? No. If you hate me for that, so be it. But I won’t apologize for protecting the woman I lo—”
“No!” I shriek, leaping out of the chair and barreling into him with both hands. “Don’t say it! Not now!”
He doesn’t. His hands seize my face, pulling me against him and kissing me hard. I want to fight him, but I collapse under the force of his touch. I want him. I want this. I need to feel something other than lies and loss. I need his voice in my ear, not hers.
I need to feel what’s real.
In this life.
“Fuck me,” I groan against his mouth.
Dominic’s eyes darken, and he pushes my back against the wall. Jerking my dress up, he winds his fingers around my panties and rips them off with a single tug. Tossing them like garbage, he tears his jeans open, pushing them down just far enough to pull out his cock.
There’s a hum of silence. A sliver of peace just before Hell rises up and rains down on the sinners, drowning them in their own greed and lust.