Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,107

get another box. Still, I wouldn’t be surprised if Milly showed up with a pair of handcuffs and chloroform.

I run my finger along the now bare desks where laptops and phones once sat. I can imagine the chaos that once rang through this space. Pausing, I let my eyes wander toward Dominic’s glass enclosed office. I wonder what he was like during his reign over this town.

Wandering into his office, I sit down behind his desk, the soft leather chair hugging around me. It’s two days before Christmas. We should be buying presents and celebrating like normal people.

But we’re not normal. We never have been.

Because instead, we’re here, in an office building in West Hollywood, packing up what’s left of what was once both the most respected and feared celebrity news site. Beyond the News is officially bankrupt. After Dominic refused to take my money, the owner of the building evicted him, giving him twenty-four hours to evacuate.

Dominic McCallum, former media mogul and name on every A-lister’s lips is now penniless, homeless, and shunned by the very town that empowered him. That’s why we’re here.

Closing yet another chapter in the fucked-up love story of Angel and Dominic.

And I do love him. I haven’t said it, and maybe I never will.

I shouldn’t. If he’d left me in Chula Vista, none of this would’ve happened. But you can’t control who you love. Regardless of how wrong it is.

Frowning, I run my finger along the bandage on my hand. Hilda found a shattered mirror in the east wing bedroom. Neither she nor Dominic said the words, but the look they shared this morning said it for them.

They think I’ve lost it.

Maybe I have.

To be fair, the trail of blood led from the broken mirror to the bed I woke up in. The one I share with Dominic. I’m not stupid. I know facts when I see them. Nobody planted my blood or slashed my hand in the middle of the night.

I did it. I just don’t know why. I don’t remember.

More time lost. More static. Just more everything.

My thoughts turn to Violet. There are still no leads. She’s a missing person no one cares is missing. My best friend. My family. Just another victim in this twisted story, I think as I spin around in the chair. A casualty of greed and lies. Lies and greed.

Greedy little twisted lies.

“Dominic?”

My palms slam against the desk, stopping the constant rotation of the chair. It takes a few seconds for my brain to stop sloshing around in my head. Finally, it calms enough that I can see through the glass wall to the man standing at the office door. My defenses immediately go up. I’ve never seen him before. He’s muscular with bulging biceps that could crush me with one grip. I’m not sure what to do. I can lock myself in the office, but the damn thing is made of glass.

“Miss?” He steps further into the office. “Is Dominic McCallum here?”

I stand, hovering in front of the desk.

Tell him he’s right outside.

“He’s gone,” I blurt out.

Dumbass.

He takes another step, narrowing his eyes. “Are you Alexandra Romanov?”

Tell him no.

“Yes.”

Seriously?

Although his stare lingers, my answer seems to satisfy him. “Then you’ll do. This concerns you anyway.”

My spine straightens. I forget his beady eyes and focus on the folder he has tucked under his massive arm. Okay, now he has my attention.

Leaving the safety of Dominic’s glass box, I venture out into the open and stand awkwardly in the middle of the bullpen as this man stares at me, his eyes heated with what I now see as anger.

He makes a tight fist, pointing a finger at me as he charges forward. “You can tell Dominic McCallum he’s a motherfucking cocksucker.”

“Okay?”

His nostrils flare, and his cheeks flame with rage. “Just because someone rerouted the goddamn test, doesn’t give him the right to call in an anonymous tip and fuck up my life!”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, confused at what he’s yelling about. “What test? What tip?”

“Someone called QuestTech to let them know about my little side job.” A furious smirk stretches across his mouth. “Oh, honey, don’t act like you don’t know. I’m over this bullshit.” Temper flaring, he slams the folder against his palm while pacing inches in front of me. “Usually, it’s no big deal. You want to ensure a guy is your baby daddy, I’m your man. But getting me fired because your fucking test got rerouted”—pausing, he lets out a humorless laugh—“that’s