Starlet: A Dark Retelling

by Cora Kenborn

  Dominic and I come together like a force of nature. Like two magnets unable to control the intensity pulling them to each other. My hands tangle in his hair as he lifts me up by my thighs, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

  His mouth takes mine in a punishing kiss. It’s desperation, and ferocity, and loathing. It’s everything we are and everything we’re meant to be. It’s this house, chanting our names as he reaches between us, guiding his swollen cock toward my entrance.

  There’s no teasing. No touching. No whispered words.

  I don’t need it. I’m slick with desire and dripping with torture. I rock against him, craving an outlet for everything that isn’t mine. For all the things I’ll never have.

  “Please,” I beg, suspended between worlds.

  He stares at me with a predatory look in his eyes.

  New but familiar.

  “Frozen,” I whisper. “Your eyes are frozen.”

  I don’t know what that means, but it breaks something in Dominic. Bending his knees, he drives into me with one vicious thrust. I scream at the invasion, my body revolting.

  “Is this what you want?” he hisses, pumping hard as I cry. “You want me to hurt you?”

  I nod, too overcome for words.

  “Fuck!” He sucks air through clenched teeth. “I told you I wasn’t a good man. I warned you, but you wouldn’t listen. You wore me down, Angel.” Pulling back, he fucks me hard, and I both love and hate him for it. “You kept on and on and on until you won, and now you don’t want me? The real Dominic? Tough shit. You’re going to get him.”

  I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. All I can do is scream his name as he loses control. One violent thrust after the other, every stroke as fucked up as we are.

  “You’re mine,” he hisses, punctuating each word with a slam of his hips. “Mine. Why can’t you fucking remember that? Remember me…”

  The possessiveness in his voice is my undoing. My body splinters all around him, and I cry out his name as I shatter into irreparable pieces. At the same time, Dominic’s body jerks, and he buries his face in the hollow of my neck, roaring out his release as he spills inside me.

  The room stills, thick and heavy with regret. Dominic’s breath is hot on my skin as he pulls out and slowly lowers me to my feet. Neither of us knows what to say, so he turns, tucking himself back inside his jeans while I just stand there, the evidence of what we just did dripping down my thighs.

  Finally, he lets out a ragged breath and rakes a hand through his hair. “Look, about that photo. There’s something else—”

  “Leave.”

  The dim glow from the laptop casts a splash of light across his shocked face. “What?”

  “I need you to leave now.” I close the laptop. Pausing, I run my fingers along the edge of the desk before turning toward the door.

  “Now? After what we just…” His voice trails off as his steel gaze narrows. “What the hell just happened, Angel?”

  I pause in the doorway. “The final act,” I whisper before heading toward the east wing.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Dominic

  My office used to energize me. Inside these glass walls, I controlled the world and everyone in it. Now it’s a prison. These glass walls have become iron bars, and my wardens are the very people who brought me to power.

  Milly leans against the doorframe, her arms folded across her chest. “You can’t hide out here forever, you know.”

  The overdue invoices littering my desk are killing my buzz, so in one uncoordinated motion, I swipe them onto the floor. Satisfied, I reach for a nearly empty bottle of whiskey and take an indulgent swig. “Why not? Wasn’t it you who told me to keep my dick in my pants and come to work?”

  Wincing, she pulls off her glasses and rubs her eyes. “I don’t think it’s your dick that’s the problem here.”

  My fist tightens around the bottle. “Don’t.” Milly flinches at the harsh bite of my tone, but I don’t care. What happened is my fault, and mine alone. It won’t be mentioned inside these walls.

  Now or ever.

  Rolling her lips over her teeth, she pushes off the doorframe and invites herself into my office. “Dom, it’s been five days,” she says, slumping into a chair in front of my desk. “You’re like a pendulum, swinging from one extreme to the other. Either you ghost us, or you’re like the manic party crasher who never leaves. You can’t live like this.”

  Spinning my chair, I turn the bottle up and stare out at the street. “Why not? It worked for Hemingway.”

  “Hemingway shot himself.”

  I glance over my shoulder, offering a whiskey-infused smirk. “Maybe he just knew when it was time to leave the party.”

  “Jesus!” She yells, slamming her palms against my desk, and the sudden movement causes me to swivel my chair back around. “What’s wrong with you? This isn’t the Dominic McCallum I know. The one who went after the most powerful men in Hollywood. That guy knew everything could blow up in his face, but he didn’t care. You know why?”

  I shrug, lifting the bottle again. “Because he’s a fucking moron?”

  “No, because he’s not a quitter.” Letting out a frustrated groan, she shoves her glasses back on her face before collapsing back into her chair. “Have you talked to her?”

  Her.

  She doesn’t have to even say her name. My heart races just at those three letters.

  “Nobody’s talked to her.” I rub the space in my chest that hasn’t stopped aching in five days. “Since the leak, she hasn’t left the estate.”

  Milly chews on my admission for a few hesitant moments. “Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. Maybe after everything blows over, this could be a good thing.” She holds up her hand as I roll my eyes. “I’m serious! Actresses launch successful careers off sex tapes all the time.”

  Dragging a hand over my face, I let out a heavy sigh. “Not when said actress is already tits deep in a studio scandal and rumors about collusion with yours truly.”

  Greg Rosten might be a sexual predator, a pathological liar, a narcissist, and an extortionist, but he doesn’t make idle threats. He promised I’d pay for putting my hands on him, and he delivered.

  Five days ago, the picture of Angel and me uploaded to the dark web and immediately crossed over into mainstream. Within minutes, it went viral, and our lives irrevocably changed.

  And not equally.

  Hollywood is the double standard capital of the world, after all.

  I’ve tried calling her, but there’s no answer. Not that I expected there to be. I got so caught up in making her feel what she refused to hear, I neglected to tell her the blackmail didn’t die with Freddy Wiseman.

  She threw me out before I could tell her about Rosten’s threat. Maybe that makes me just as responsible as him.

  “What about you?” Milly asks. I glance up to see her head cocked to the side and her eyes boring into me. “How are you doing?”

  “Me?” I let out a dry laugh. “Oh, I’m great. You know, other than having to fire all the employees you just rehired, being days away from getting kicked out of this building, and having my house and car repossessed.”

  She opens her mouth for what I have no doubt is another motivational speech when the main BTN line rings. It can ring until the end of time for all I care, but when I see Milly’s ass lift off the chair, I shove a finger across the desk.

  “Don’t you dare!” I warn. Milly’s one of the only friends I have, but if she makes one more move toward that phone, I’ll wrestle her to the ground. “It’s either a bill collector or another reporter wanting an exclusive on...” I swipe my hand through the air, mocking their newest bullshit headline. “Alexandra Romanov’s Erotic Fall From Grace.”

  She plops back down with a huff. “Wouldn’t they just call your cell phone?”

  I smirk as the ringing stops only to immediately start again. “They would, if I didn’t toss it in the garbage outside my house.”

  Good luck ge
tting a quote now, fuckers.

  Four rings later, Milly slams her palms against the armrests of the chair. “Well it’s driving me insane.” In a blur, she’s out of her seat and stomping out the door.

  “Wait!” But before I even get the word out, she’s halfway across the bullpen.

  Fuck it.

  Sinking back into my chair, I spin back around and look out onto the darkened street again. Corralling Milly is like herding cats. Control the controllable, as my mom used to say.

  Another one of Brenda McCallum’s nuggets of wisdom. Don’t spend your time flipping your shit over things out of your hands. Concentrate on taking hold of what’s in your grasp and manipulate it to your advantage. I’ve done it my whole life.

  That’s what this whole damn thing has been about.

  Controlling the controllable.

  I didn’t start the hunt for a lost little girl, but I seized the opportunity to control it. Sure, I needed the money, but that was a fringe benefit. Two birds, one stone, no mess.

  But when you build a labyrinth of deceit, you can get lost in your own maze.

  Maybe in the beginning my reasons were a selfish attempt at protecting myself. As long as I found Alexandra Romanov first, people would stop looking. They’d stop questioning. And in case the little girl with green eyes broke her first pinkie promise, another queen would have already been crowned.

  But that was before a down-on-her-luck cocktail waitress from Chula Vista, California stole twenty bucks from me and something I didn’t even know I had.

  A heart.

  She slowly brought me back to life, and in return what did I do? I turned her loose in her own labyrinth. The one that slowly chipped away at her sanity and soul, pushing her toward the edge.

  Every day I watched more and more of Angel slip away as the truth bled through the fissures in her mind. I saw it coming and said nothing. Not out of fear of losing my freedom, but out of fear of losing her.

  I watched my mother break before my eyes.

  I refused to watch Angel break, too.

  Be careful what you ask for.

  Now it’s too late for apologies or confessions. It’s almost poetic. I finally get the balls to say the words to her, and she didn’t want to hear them. But I meant every word.

  I love her.

  I think I always have. The type of love changed over time, but she stole my heart the moment I saw her. The hope in her eyes when she first looked at me sealed my fate. Sitting there in the eye of the storm, she looked at me like I was her world.

  “Are you God?”

  Every jagged piece of me belongs to her. Even the ones hell-bent on cutting her and drawing blood. Somehow, she’s smoothed the edges just enough to tolerate the bite without breaking the skin.

  I’ve never allowed anyone this close, and it feels like I’m being smothered and set free at the same time. Like soaring headfirst into the sun only to suddenly burst into flames. She’s my salvation and damnation. My redemption and ruin.

  The biggest mistake I’ll never regret.

  As soon as I hear footsteps, I palm the back of my neck and spin back around. “Let me guess, Rosten sold the rights.”

  Milly’s face is chalk white. “Dominic…”

  “I hope he knows I deserve at least a third of the—”

  “Dominic!” she says, again, her voice unsteady. There’s a silence in her tone that chills my blood, but it’s her next words that bring me to my knees. “It’s your mother.”

  Chapter Forty

  Angel

  Whether you’re at the top of the world or the bottom of the river, time stops for no one. You can’t wish it away, and you can’t turn it back. It moves forward at its own steady rhythm, oblivious to the change going on around it. Awake or asleep—it doesn’t matter. The hands of the clock move whether you’re conscious of them or not.

  Tick tock tick tock tick tock.

  It’s been ten days since I watched Dominic drive away from my bedroom window, and nine since the world turned against me. I know because time may hate me, but the sun greets me each morning.

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

  I’ve counted every one of them in this bed. In these clothes. I can’t face anything outside these four walls. This room is my safe place. It’s where I listen to the clock, watch the sun, and wait.

  The east wing is so peaceful.

  Far away from the shouts and chants of the crowd gathered outside the iron gates. Some want me to leave. Some want me to answer for my sins. A few want me to die. I should’ve been prepared for this. The leak came from an “anonymous” source, but it has Rosten’s disgusting stench all over it.

  “Miss Romanov?”

  Rolling over, I glance toward the door to find Hilda standing there, a forlorn look etched in the lines of her face. “Has there been any news about Violet?”

  She shakes her head. “No, ma’am, I’m sorry.”

  “Oh.” I figured as much. Even my calls to Detective Rubio have been ignored. Violet has been gone for three weeks and nobody seems to know why. Dejected, I roll back over and wait for the click of the door. When it never comes, I peek back over my shoulder to find her still standing there. “Is there something else?”

  “You haven’t answered your phone.”

  “Can you blame me?” I snap. “There are only so many times you can be called a whore. Although, I have learned how to say it in five different languages.”

  “Miss Boone has tried calling you for four days,” she blurts out, stepping further into the room. “The estate’s number is inaccessible, so she sent this.” Reaching into her apron, she pulls out a white envelope. It looks like it’s been through atomic warfare. As if reading my mind, she adds, “Lars opens your mail for security purposes. I’d never intentionally invade your privacy, but…” she trails off again, worrying her lip.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Instead of answering, she shoves it toward my chest. “Here.”

  I don’t want to take it, but before I can stop myself, Milly’s slanted, left-handed words stare back at me.

  Alexandra,

  I thought you should know Dominic’s mother passed away last Thursday. The hospital says it was an allergic reaction to a new medication. There wasn’t any money for a burial, so she was cremated over the weekend. Dominic’s not doing well. I know things aren’t good between you two, but you’re the only one who can get through to him.

  I just thought you should know.

  Milly

  My chest aches. My eyes burn. My hands shake.

  I read it three more times and each time the ache, burn, and shaking intensify.

  Dominic.

  He needs me.

  “Hilda, I—” I look up to find her gone. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except getting to him. I don’t care if he wants me there or not. Stumbling out of bed, I tear down the hallway toward the shower.

  Twenty minutes later, I walk out of the mansion for the first time in ten days.

  Lars leaves the limo idling in the driveway as I bang my fist on Dominic’s door again. “I can do this all day, McCallum.”

  When there’s still no answer, I walk to the window and try my best to see inside. There’s no movement. No sign of life, but his damn car is here. Frustrated, I continue around the side of the house, and, ignoring Lars’s protests, I climb over the wooden gate. The patio is deserted, so I press my nose against the glass pane and peer into an empty house.

  “Dominic, please. I know I pushed you away, but I was scared. I still am. All I know is when I’m with you I feel safe and terrified all at the same time. I don’t know who I am anymore but deep down,” I yell as my voice breaks, “I think you do. And that’s why I pushed you away. Because the truth is, I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of me.”

  Silence.

  “Dominic.” His name is a weak sigh. A final plea. A sinner’s prayer.

  Silence.

  Letting out a defeated sigh, I o
pen the gate this time and walk back down the driveway only to stop and turn back around.

  His Harley is gone.

  My shoulders sag. My head knew it, but a part of my heart held onto a shred of hope he was listening. I nod to Lars, who dutifully exits the limo, waiting by the rear to open my door when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, so my thumb goes straight to the decline button when something stops me.

  Static. Scratching.

  “Six is coming,” I whisper.

  “Miss Romanov?” I look up to see Lars moving toward me with a concerned look on his face. “We need to go. Now.”

  Six is coming.

  “Hello?” I don’t remember answering. But suddenly, the phone is at my ear.

  “Miss Romanov?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “My name Vanessa Hunder. I’m a nurse at Moss Valley Wellness Hospital. I’m sorry to bother you, but we’ve been trying to get in touch with Mr. McCallum and have been unable to reach him. Since the billing department has listed you as a personal contact, we thought you could have him call us immediately.”

  I glance back at the empty space where his Harley usually sits. God knows where he is, how long he’s been gone, or when he’ll come back. “Of course. Is there a problem? If there’s a final payment that needs to be made, I—”

  “No, nothing like that. We were clearing out Brenda McCallum’s room and found a sealed envelope with her son’s name on it. Someone needs to pick it up in the next forty-eight hours or it’ll be labeled as unclaimed property.”

  “What happens to unclaimed property?”

  “It goes into storage.” There’s no inflection in her voice. As if tossing away someone’s last possession is as easy as taking out the trash. “I’m not sure where, Miss Romanov. We don’t track it from there.”

  I don’t hesitate. “I’ll be right there.” Lars is already forming a rebuttal when I skirt around him. “Take me to Moss Valley. Now.”