Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,19

didn’t—”

“I got that role because I’m a damn good actress, McCallum,” I say, cutting him off. “But because of you, every producer assumed I was much better at spreading my legs.” Opening my eyes, I stare at the wall in a swell of fury. “The name Jade Saxton became a joke. No one would return my phone calls or give me an audition. At least one that wasn’t on my knees.”

There. I said it. I unleashed the words I’ve held in for so long. So why the hell don’t I feel better? Why is the hollow pit inside my stomach still there?

Because he never paid for his sins, a voice whispers. Because you lost everything while he built an empire. Because you sank to the bottom while he floated away.

Last First Kiss was supposed to be my big break. It was payment for a lifetime of pain. I knew the producer was a sexist pig. Everyone knew it. Maybe some of those girls blew their way into their roles, but not me. I earned mine. But none of that mattered when Beyond the News decided it was open season on Paulo Bellini.

If you had a vagina, you were guilty. No trial. No defense. Dominic McCallum banged his almighty gavel, and that was it. We were all hung in the court of public opinion.

“So why Chula Vista?”

I cut my eyes at his flippant change of subject. Once again, he just rips off the scab and leaves me to bleed. “Car broke down. Money ran out. The G-Spot was hiring.” I shrug. “Take your pick. Trust me, if everything had worked out, I’d be in Phoenix by now.”

“What’s in Phoenix?”

It’s a question I’m not prepared to answer, so I don’t. Instead, I roll my neck, wincing at the tight muscles. “It’s been a long day, Mr. McCallum. As much as I’ve enjoyed being harassed at work, dragged into alleys, pushed against walls, and attacked in my own home, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to take my shower and go to sleep now.”

“No.”

I blink. “I’m sorry, did you say no?”

“Pretty and observant. You’re quite the package, Angel Smith.” He tosses a smug wink at me, and all I can think about is stealing that knife in his pocket and jabbing it in his eye.

Try winking then, asshole.

“Now that we’ve resolved past grudges—”

“Resolved?” I laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

But he is, which is made obvious by the fact he continues to speak. “I believe we still have my offer to discuss.”

“Get out.”

“Just give me five minutes, and if what I have to say doesn’t convince you to give me five more, I’ll leave.”

“Does this have anything to do with the shit you tried to pull with Reggie’s new girl?” He doesn’t answer, and for the second time today, I hesitate. Probably a huge mistake, but I don’t see how this could get any worse. “Five minutes, and you’ll leave?”

“You have my word.”

“Great,” I mumble. “I’ll add it to the other worthless shit I own.” I motion toward our pathetic excuse for a couch. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” He’s all confident and powerful, and fucking infuriating. The way he smiles around the words and the way those electric eyes never seem to blink, causes me to ache in the worst kind of way. The pain isn’t brutal, but more like subtle stabs. Sort of like taking a running leap into a giant pit of thumbtacks.

He’s the asshole who stole your dream, I remind myself. I can’t let a pretty face and a nice body distract me from reality. A sinfully defined toned body. I swallow hard, running a hand along my throat where my pulse is dancing the tango.

Five minutes. I agreed to this to get him out, not to proposition my stalker, so I clear my throat and sit in a nearby chair. Tossing the camera beside me, I clench my hands together in my lap. “Let’s hear it, Mr. McCallum.”

“It’s Dominic.” His broadened smile sends my resolve flying out the window and a rush of heat between my legs.

No! I’m not attracted to him. I let out a groan and clench my teeth. Focus, Angel.

He leans forward and balances his elbows on his knees, “You seem nervous, Miss Smith.”

He’s close. So close I ditch my own rules and breathe him in. God, he smells good. A deep mix of rich coffee and earthy pine. Like Christmas morning. Well, what I imagine Christmas morning would smell like. Not that I’ve ever