Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,23
it happen. Wishes and hope are useless weapons, and the fool who stands with his hand out waiting for life to step up to the plate only ends up with two things.”
“What?”
His lip curls. “Empty hands and an empty wallet.”
Chapter Eleven
Dominic
Present Day
Angel narrows her eyes. “What’s that look for?”
We’re sitting across from each other at an outdoor cafe about ten miles outside Chula Vista. Coming here was a strategic move to force her out of her comfort zone. At the bar and her apartment, she had the upper hand. Now we’re on neutral ground, and there’s nowhere to run. No Violet to interrupt. No door to throw me out of. And I’m not leaving without the answer I want.
“Nothing,” I mutter, forcing myself not to stare at her like a fucking pervert.
She doesn’t buy it. Made evident by the exaggerated eye roll as she dumps at least a quarter cup of sugar in her coffee. I watch her lift the cup to her mouth, and she catches me staring at her lips. She pauses, the corner of her mouth curling in a knowing smirk.
Fuck.
This devil-kisses-my-ass vibe she has going on is doing nothing to calm the hard-on I’ve had for damn near fifteen hours. There’s only so many times a man can jerk off before his dick needs medical attention.
Angel opened the door before I could knock this morning, dressed to kill in a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a camouflaged shirt with criss-cross ties half-way down her chest. On anyone else it would look basic, but on her it looks effortlessly sexy.
Angel clears her throat again, her hands locked tight around her cup. “You were saying?”
I study her, saying nothing. There’s wisdom in silence most people don’t take the time to hear. After all, humans have two ears and one mouth for a reason, a fact that seems to escape most of Los Angeles. While the loudest voice usually gets the most attention, sometimes, it’s the most subtle things that make the most noise.
And Angel’s noise is literally a noise. Every time she’s uncomfortable she clears her throat. I don’t even think she’s aware she’s doing it. And I’m sure as hell not going to tell her.
“I was going to say thank you for hearing me out,” I say.
“You didn’t give me much choice.”
“Have you thought about my offer?”
As usual, she makes me wait for an answer as she takes a thoughtful sip from her cup. The corners of her mouth turn down as she studies the sugary liquid. “Haven’t thought about much else.”
“And?”
There’s a loud clink as she settles her cup back into its saucer. Turning, she digs through a faded canvas bag and pulls out a newspaper, those smoky green eyes flashing as she holds it up to my face. “Have you read this?”
“Is that a serious question? That’s like asking Bill Gates if he follows the stock market.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. My point is, the public is tearing all these girls coming forward to shreds, Dominic.” She clears her throat again as she points to the bottom of the page. “This poll alone claims seventy-two percent of the country thinks she’s dead. This is a bad idea. We’re going to crash and burn.”
We’re going to.
Her wording doesn’t escape me. “Does that mean you accept?”
“I’m speaking hypothetically.” The words fall flat, her attention settling on something over my shoulder. Whatever it is causes her to lean forward. When she tilts her chin up and peers even closer, I see the moment aggression and petulance give way to curiosity and intrigue.
Curious, I twist around to find a woman sitting at a table behind us. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about that, but it’s what she’s holding that catches my attention.
I watch as she shakes her head at the same paper Angel’s holding, muttering to herself. “Fifteen years later, and they still haven’t found her. Maybe she’s the only smart one in the bunch.”
“Excuse me.” I flash a smile so bright it belongs in a toothpaste commercial. “Are you talking about the Romanov murders?”
Fact number one: a polished smile will hide a lot of rust.
The woman smiles back. “Yes, why?”
“Well, I couldn’t help but overhear, and I’m intrigued with your insightful analysis.”
Fact number two: flattery will get you everywhere.
She blushes and beams and whatever other shit women do when falling for a cheap line. I’m almost insulted. She could at least make me work for it.
Stifling a smile, I turn cock my head to the side.