Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,14
two-minute conversation and go in for the kill. That kind of skill is only taught at the school of hard knocks.”
“Are you done, or do you want to read my palm next?”
Damn it, I’m starting to like this girl.
Don’t get me wrong, I have two eyes and a dick, but I also enjoy a challenge. She’s throwing up roadblocks faster than I can knock them down, and that gets me off more than anything. If I hadn’t spent the week running interference between a handful of fake heiresses and a tabloid hungry mob, I might drag this out. But I’m not one to beat a dead horse, and this one is clinging to life by a thread.
The moment I go in for the kill, she tilts her head down, and my mind blanks. I don’t think to ask. My hand drifts on its own, my thumb brushing along the delicate curve of her neck, a spark of something I can’t explain igniting.
She inhales slowly. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
I blink, the spark fading away. Instead of chasing it, I grab the brass ring already in reach. “You’re a little rough around the edges, but with a little coaching, we could actually pull this thing off.”
She smacks my hand away again, only this time there’s hesitation. “Pull what off?”
“I’m talking about a way out of this hellhole. Forget the wallet. Forget the cops. What if I told you I can offer you the acting job of a lifetime? One that can put five hundred thousand dollars in your pocket in less than two weeks?”
Chapter Seven
Dominic
She narrows her eyes, like I’ve offended her. Unbelievable.
Muttering out a curse, I dig in my newly retrieved wallet and pull out a business card. “I overheard you and that purple-haired bitch in there,” I say tipping my chin toward the bar. “I know you’re an actress, and your phone isn’t exactly ringing with offers.” Before she can spout off any more insults, I give her hand a tug and press the card into the middle of her palm. “This isn’t something I care to discuss next to a dumpster. Since you refuse to give me your number, mine is on the card. Think you can knock that chip off your shoulder long enough to call it?”
Her eyes trail down to the card in her hand. I watch as they scan the words embossed in gold, her lips mouthing the name I’ve yet to reveal. Then every inch of her stills.
“Dominic McCallum,” she says, spitting out my name as if she can’t stand the taste of it. She looks up, disgust burning bright and hot in that murky, green glare.
“Yes?” It’s all I offer. I’ve just thrown down the gauntlet. It’s up to her whether she accepts the challenge.
Holding my stare, she rips the card in two and tosses it to the ground by my feet. “Fuck you.”
“Tempting, but I want an answer first.”
“Fuck—”
“Fuck you, I know. You’ve said that already.” Stepping forward, I cage her against the wall again. “But wishes come in threes, cupcake. So, if I were you, I’d be very careful about tossing out a third. Even with your shitty attitude, I might be tempted to grant it.”
“You can go straight to hell.”
“No thanks. Been there, done that. I don’t recommend it unless you’re into getting fucked in the ass by Satan.”
She stares at me for a minute like she doesn’t know what to say. Eventually, she just shakes her head and blows out a slow breath. “What do you want from me?”
It’s a simple question which should have a simple answer, but I’m losing focus as our close proximity starts taking up all available space in my head. “Everything,” I growl.
I don’t know who leans in first. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s her. Maybe it’s both of us. All I know is I’m imagining those lips wrapped around something a hell of a lot more enjoyable than an insult.
“Everything okay out here?”
The voice comes out of nowhere, and we spring apart like two over-wound Jack-in-the-boxes. Angel glances over my shoulder, a nervous smile tipping the corner of her cheek, so I follow her line-of-sight straight to a shock of purple hair and black Sharpie-rimmed eyes.
Great.
“Yeah, a customer lost his wallet and thought I might have seen it, but he was mistaken. Right?” She stares at me with a dare blazing in her eyes. If cocktail waitressing doesn’t work out for this woman, she has a solid future in extortion.